“’Cause I’m goin’ back to stick with Mark,” I grunted, kind of sharp. “There ain’t nobody in Wicksville goin’ to say I ain’t got as much sand as Mark Tidd.”
“I sha’n’t go back,” Binney says. “I didn’t ask him to stay.”
“Me too,” agreed Plunk.
“Nobody asked you to go back. Somebody’s got to do the hollerin’ on the island, ain’t they? Well, all you got to do is sound like a whole picnic. Now git.”
I went back up the hill cautious and sneaking and sat down just back of Mark. He didn’t hear me till I slipped, and then the way he jumped reminded me of a big rubber ball bounding.
“Whillisker!” he panted, “but you scairt me!”
“Too bad. If I scairt you what’ll the wild man do?”
He grinned kind of sickly. “What you doin’ here?”
“I come to stay,” I says. “Plunk and Binney can make enough row.”
He looked pretty thankful, but tried not to show it. “There ain’t no need,” he says.