“What made you g-go off with him, then?”
“There wasn’t anything else to do.”
Well, we were stumped right there. It was a sure thing that this Pekoe knew something we ought to know, but it looked like he might as well be in China as where he was, for all the good it did us. It made Mark Tidd mad.
“We’re goin’ to t-t-talk to Pekoe,” says he, “and we’re goin’ to do it right off.”
“I’m willin’,” says I, “but I hain’t got any wings to fly up to his window.”
“And Jethro might not like to see a boy flying around the yard like a bird, anyhow,” said Rock, making the first thing that sounded like a joke that I ever heard him try. It wasn’t much of a joke when you come to think of it, but it was encouraging.
“I wish Plunk and Tallow was here,” says Mark.
“I’ll git ’em,” says I, and off I went, running as hard as I could. It didn’t take long to grab onto the fellows and hustle back. When we got there Mark and Rock had their heads together like they were making up a scheme.
“Plunk,” says Mark, “you and Tallow are g-g-goin’ to have a fight. A noisy fight. You got to slam-bang into each other like all git out.”
“G’wan!” says Tallow.