“Shucks!” says the man.
“Wigglesworth was queer—and suspicious. Look how he acted toward the boy. Maybe he made a writing. Seems like he must have. Didn’t tell anybody, so far as I can find out. That’s certain, I guess. But he must have written. Must have. And we’ve got to find it. Never can tell when a writing will pop up just when it will send you higher than a kite.”
“I’ve looked till my eyes is wore out.”
“Look some more,” says the Knight.
“Where’s Pekoe?”
“Nobody knows. Gone off to South America or India or the North Pole again, likely. He won’t bother us.”
“May some day.”
“Don’t believe he knows enough about things. If he had he’d hung around.”
And right there Tallow Martin let out a sneeze. I knew it was Tallow, because there ain’t a man, woman, child, horse, cow, or mule in Wicksville that could enter a sneezing match with him and even get second prize. Tallow would get all the prizes if there was a dozen.
“What’s that?” says the Knight.