We kept about half a block behind Jiggins & Co. and on the other side of the road, taking pains to keep people between us and the men. We watched them go into several places, probably to ask about Uncle Hieronymous, but every time they came out disappointed. Finally they stopped and argued a few minutes, and then wheeled suddenly and came back toward us. The streets were pretty clear by this time, and there was no chance for us to mingle with the crowd and get away. All we could do was duck into a dark stairway.
Jiggins & Co. crossed the street to our side and came walking up the sidewalk slowly, like they were pretty well played out. If they felt anything like I did they were, and there’s no doubt about it. Between falling off a train, paddling all day, and walking all the evening I felt like I was about ready to give up the ship. Another mile and I knew I’d up and splinter all to pieces on the sidewalk. Next day somebody’d have swept me up in a dust-pan and wondered where in the world all the slivers came from.
The nearer the enemy got the farther Mark and I scrooched back into the stairway. In a minnit they got right in front of us, and I heard Jiggins speak to somebody.
“Good evening, mister,” he says.
“Good evening,” says the stranger.
“We just came to town,” says Jiggins. “Been here two hours. Walked and walked. Looking for a man. Old man. Lumberman. Know any lumbermen?”
“Heaps,” says the stranger. “Used to be a lumber-jack myself.”
“Just our man. I knew it as soon as I saw you. Says I, ‘There’s the feller.’ Yes, sir. I said it just like that. Knows lots of lumbermen. Fine. The one we’re looking for travels around carrying the name of Hieronymous Alphabet Bell. Know him? Old feller. Lives up Baldwin way.”
“Sure I know Hieronymous,” says the stranger. “Hain’t seen him for months, but I know him. Him and me used to bunk together.”
“He’s in town. Came to-day. Can’t find him. Where’d he be apt to be?”