In half an hour he was done, and he said to turn off the flash, which I did, and then I turned it right back on again. That skeleton seemed to jump right out at you as soon as the shack was dark. It didn’t look as if it was painted on a board. The board just up and disappeared, and the skeleton looked as if it was standing in the air and glowing. It gave me the jumps.
“If that thing’s going along,” says I, “you can count me out. Two’s company—three’s a crowd.”
“Fiddlesticks,” says he. “I’ll carry it. Guess we’re ready now. Come on.”
“Hold the dog-gone thing with its back this way, then,” says I, “I don’t want it staring at me.”
So we went out of the shack and headed for the pirates’ lair, or barbed wire entanglement, or whatever it was Catty had decided it was now. Looked to me like he’s made up his mind to have it be a graveyard.
“Go careful now,” says Catty, “and keep listening. We don’t want to run into a trap.”
“You bet we don’t,” says I. “Won’t they have any lights?”
“Maybe lanterns,” says he.
It turned out there wasn’t much light. Pretty soon we got close to the wire. Everything was quiet, but we could see a light in a tent, and after a while we could hear somebody walking up and down.
“The sentinel,” says Catty.