“Search me,” Jim responded.
“Seems as if I’ve got a kind of hazy idea of reading something about some old race or other using plows like that,” Bob remarked.
“Me too. Maybe it was the Egyptians.”
“Maybe, but holy hoofs, what’s this kid doing it for?”
“As I said before, my esteemed step-brother, you are at liberty to search me thoroughly, but if you find anything, you have to let me in on it,” Jim laughed. The boy watched them a few minutes longer, then picking up his tool, he hurried back to his work.
“You know, Jim, we thought this neck of the woods was going to be dull as ditch-water, but I’ve got a hunch that if we stick around we may be able to crowd some real excitement into our visit. I’m dying to know who this kid is and where he came from, mystery number one; I’d like to do some flying about Isle La Motte and perhaps we can see something that will solve mystery number two—what’s happening to Uncle Norman’s turkeys—”
“I’d like to do some observing and see if we can’t get a line on that gang that is giving friend Bradshaw such deep furrows between his handsome eyes,” Jim laughed.
“Me too, but gosh all hemlock, wouldn’t Dad kid the life out of us if he knew we are out to help the little old world!”
“Not only Dad, but the whole shooting match on the ranch. Tell you what, Aunt Belle and Uncle Fent said we could stay as long as we like, and they meant it, even if we are boys. Let’s organize a secret—s-e-c-r-e-t—mind you, detecting bureau, or what ever it is, and stay until we solve the three mysteries!” Bob proposed.
“I’m on. This end of the world doesn’t look so bad to me. We’ll let the folks know we’re taking root for a while, the three of us, that includes Her Highness. We’ll keep on the job until we win, or we have to admit we’re licked.” Bob held out his hand and the agreement was made, without further discussion.