“Yes. Who are you?”
“Friends of Rock’s. We haven’t much time. Got Jethro out of the w-w-way for a minute and sneaked up. We’re helpin’ Rock. There’s some kind of a mystery about him, and we’re solvin’ it. We got to know what you know.”
“Don’t go too fast, young feller,” says Pekoe. “I don’t know you yet, and I hain’t talkin’ to anybody that inquires. Maybe you was sent by the feller that shut me up here.”
“We weren’t. Rock’s with us. He’s standin’ at the f-f-foot of the stairs, watchin’. It was us that s-s-shot at your window yesterday, and it was me that t-t-talked deaf and dumb with you.”
“Oh,” says Pekoe. “What do you want to know? Why don’t you let me out first?”
“We can’t,” says Mark. “Why don’t you get out?”
“I’m no sparrow,” says Pekoe. “It’s three stories down and them blinds is nailed. I can’t bust open the door. That Jethro didn’t leave a thing in the room I could use to bust it down. There hain’t a chair or a bed in here. Nothin’ but a mattress and some quilts. What kin a feller do with them?”
“Not much,” says Mark. “And we can’t do anythin’ now. But we’ll git you out. Rock’s the m-m-main consideration now. You f-fetched him here?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”