“You did,” says Mark.
“We knew you were hiding down there. That’s why Jiggins and I made that joke in the wagon. We knew we’d get you all excited.”
“What joke?” Mark asked, with his face as dumb and foolish as a pumpkin lantern.
“Didn’t you hear what we said?” I could see Collins was beginning to feel relieved.
“I hain’t heard no j-j-joke this morning,” says Mark.
Collins turned to Jiggins and said, low, but not so low we couldn’t hear him across the water, “There, I told you they couldn’t have heard.”
“I ain’t so sure,” says Jiggins, looking hard at Mark. “That fat kid don’t appear to me like his ears were wadded with cotton.”
Collins shrugged his shoulders. “They wouldn’t understand if they did hear,” he says. “They’re only kids.”
Jiggins snorted. “I guess, friend Collins,” says he, “you don’t know much about boys.” With that he got up and started back toward the wagon. “Come on,” says he, emphatic-like. “We got something to do, and we got to do it quick.”
Collins turned and laughed and called good-by to us; then he followed after Jiggins. Mark was laughing again.