“What did this Galy-had do with it?” says I.
“Oh,” says Mark, “I calc’late he just f-found it—and let it go at t-t-that. Just like a knight. Spend a year l-lookin’ for a thing, and when he f-finds it, instead of takin’ it home to put on the what-not and show to folks, he jest says, ‘I spy,’ and gallops off again.”
“Looks silly,” says I.
“Was s-silly,” says he.
“Say,” says I, after thinking the thing over a while, “it just come into my head that us fellers was pokin’ our heads into somethin’ that didn’t concern us. What we monkeyin’ with this mystery for, anyhow?”
“Binney,” says Mark, “you s’prise me. Hain’t we newspaper men? Well! Hain’t it the b-business of newspaper men to git the news?”
“You bet,” says I.
“And won’t the answer to this m-mystery be the b-biggest news ever p-printed in a Wicksville paper?”
“Guess so,” says I.
“That’s why we’re after it,” says he. “Besides,” he says, “the young Duke’s in t-trouble, and a feller that won’t help another feller out when he’s in t-trouble hain’t much good.”