“That’s what this Pekoe would t-t-think,” says Mark.
“But,” says I, “you can’t reach him. If you tried it with a long pole Jethro’d catch you at it.”
“Yes,” says Plunk, “and if you tried it by throwing stones, he’d catch you at that too.”
“Maybe,” says Mark. “But I got a d-d-dodge that’ll work, maybe, and Jethro won’t see it, either. Let’s all git into the arbor where we can’t be seen.”
We went in and Mark asked if Plunk and I had our sling-shots. We had, because we always had them along. You can never tell when you may need a sling-shot in your business.
“Now,” says Mark, “here’s the notion. We shoot at Pekoe’s window. I shoot, then Plunk, then Binney. One, two, three. L-l-like that. Then stop a m-minute, and do it right over—one, two, three. See? Jethro won’t be able to see that,” says he.
“Go ahead,” says I, getting a good stone in the leather, and another in my hand to be ready for the second volley.
Mark shot, then Plunk, then me. Pat-pat-pat, the three stones sounded. Then we did it again. Pat-pat-pat. After that we waited with our eyes glued to the window, and our ears, too. Pretty soon we heard a noise like glass breaking, and then Pekoe, if it was Pekoe, began pushing and banging at the blinds.
“Hope he don’t make too m-m-much noise,” says Mark.
It seemed like he couldn’t open the blinds, so they must have been nailed or fastened somehow, and they were strong, heavy blinds, but he could work the shutters up and down so as to get a better look outside, and we could see his fingers reaching through. We knew he must have his eyes right there, looking, so Mark went to the door of the arbor and stood there quiet. Pekoe couldn’t miss seeing him any more than he could miss seeing the new post-office in town if he was standing right in front of it. That’s one good thing about being fat—it’s easy for folks to see you when you want them to. But, on the other hand, it’s hard to hide from folks you want to keep away from.