“Rock et that pie,” says Mark.
“Fiddle-de-dee,” says I, but I wasn’t so sure about it. Mark he acted so certain.
“Now,” says he, “we’ll go and g-get him.”
He started off like he knew exactly where he was going, and we followed. He led us along the bluff above the river for a spell, and then started down. In a minute I saw where we were. We were just across from Butternut Island, and right above our old cave—the cave where Mark and Tallow hid Mr. Tidd’s turbine a long while back, and where Sammy, the half-breed Injun, used to live.
“Bet he hain’t there,” says I. “He couldn’t ever find it.”
“He must ’a’ found it,” says Mark, “because he’s in it right now.”
“How d’you know?” says I.
“Because,” says he, with another aggravating grin, “there hain’t no other place for him to be.”
Well, down we went, quiet-like, and peeked in the cave. It was pretty dark there, but all the same we could see something. It looked like somebody asleep, and Mark he grinned at me again.
“You sneaked up here and found him,” says I.