Sure enough, the men were there, sitting on the doorstep, when we turned the corner into the clearing. Mark never even hesitated, so we kept right at his heels.
“Hello!” says he. “What you d-d-doin’ here?”
“Came to see Mr. Bell,” says Collins. “He seems to be out.”
Jiggins was screwing his face around as if he didn’t like things very well. All of a sudden he shook a pudgy finger at Mark and said, “Young feller, if you know as much as you look as if you don’t know, King Solomon could take lessons in law of you.”
Mark let on he didn’t understand, but I knew he was tickled. It always tickled him to have folks let on they thought he was smart. He thought he was smart, all right, though he never was disagreeable about it.
“I dun’no’ nothin’ about law,” he said, as vacant as a deserted house. “What d’you mean about Solomon?”
“Huh!” snorted Jiggins.
“Where’s your uncle?” Collins asked me.
“He hain’t got back yet,” I told him.
“Hasn’t got back from where?”