The cave was up on the side hill like I told you, and looked down on the river. I told you, too, how Uncle Ike Bond was always fishing when he could get time, which was most always, and he used to come past almost every time we were there. After a while it got so he’d stop to talk to us or we’d go down to talk to him. Finally one day he grinned, knowing-like, and asked what we were doing there so much.
We looked at one another, and then Mark reached around and scratched his back. That meant, of course, that he had to speak about something important right away, so we got up and told Uncle Ike we’d be back in a minute. He grinned and nodded.
We went off out of earshot, and Mark Tidd whispered:
“Uncle Ike’s a pretty good f-f-friend, ain’t he?”
We said yes, he was.
“I think he’s catchin’ on that we’re up to somethin’.”
“Maybe so,” I said.
“Let’s make him a m-member. Then he can’t give us away. Besides, he’d be a pretty valuable one, anyhow.”
We talked it over awhile, and it was decided unanimous to make him a Ku-Kluxer, so we went back to where he was sitting.
“Uncle Ike,” says Mark, “can you keep a secret?”