“Candle it is, then,” says I, “but if you want me to do my best work, you’ll have to keep me better posted. You’ll be having me jump out of a cellar in a parachute some day, shifting like this without giving notice.”
Anyhow, we fumbled around the shack and found the door, and went inside. Then we shut the door again and Catty lighted the flashlight. It did seem good to be able to see again. I’d missed it like everything.
“What we want now,” says Catty, “is a wide board, about as high as a man.”
We looked all around inside, and finally located a board about the size he wanted, and then we pried it out of the wall. He looked it over as careful as if he was planning to eat it, and then he stood it against the wall.
“You hold the flash,” says he, “while I work.”
“I’m busy holding my nose,” says I, “and I haven’t a hand to spare. It’s swelled so it takes both hands to cover it.”
He pulled a little paint brush out of his pocket. “That’s what I stopped at the drug store to get,” says he.
“Fine,” says I, “and now that you’ve got it, what?”
“Watch and see,” says he.
So I held the flash and he took a tube out of another pocket and stood with his head cocked on one side studying the board, and then he began to paint.