“Then,” says I, “you and me is through. We been perty good friends, and we’ve done a heap of things together, and I guess I figgered you was almost as great a man as Napoleon Bonaparte, but you hain’t. I hain’t as smart as you,” says I, “but you can bet I don’t go givin’ away any kids that’s in trouble. You go look for him,” says I, “and I’ll go look for him. But I won’t be tellin’ on him if I find him. I’ll warn him,” says I.
“Binney,” says Mark, “you’re a n-noble young man right out of a book. Honest you are. You’re a hero,” says he.
“I hain’t,” says I.
“L-look here, you saphead,” says he, “have some sense. I’m goin’ to git Rock back into Jethro’s hands,” says he, “but not to help Jethro. We got to have him back here. How we g-g-goin’ to find out about him if he’s run away? Tell me that. There’s somethin’ mighty mysterious and important about him. Jethro and the Man With the Black Gloves hain’t d-doin’ all they’re up to just for fun, be they? Not by a jugful. Rock had ought to have known b-better than to go sneakin’ off, but I s’pose he got l-lonesome. Poor kid! But lonesome or not, he’s got to come b-back.”
I felt pretty silly and didn’t think of anything to say.
“Come on,” says Mark.
“Where?” says I.
“To l-look for Rock,” says he.
“Where’ll we look?”
“Well,” says he, “if you was Rock and was r-r-runnin’ away, where’d you go?”