"So that's where you are! Well, I declare! Your parents are worried to death, boys, and my brother has gone off in the Machine to search for you. You had better come down at once!"
"But we can't, Aunt Minnehaha!" And they explained the matter to her.
"Ma-a-a-a!" contributed Uncle Sam, as he joined them at the window and looked out, with his beard draped over the sill.
"Meet our roommate," Tom said, and Mrs. Cheever laughed and laughed.
"So that's where he is. My brother will be relieved to know—and here he comes right now, thank fortune!"
But then, as luck would have it, Mr. Payton had no ladder tall enough—Judge Chater's taste had run to lofty ceilings—so Mr. Caduggan had to be fetched with his. And even after the boys were safely on the ground, poor Uncle Sam remained aloft, bleating wistfully, for though goats are very good at climbing cliffs, they are very poor at climbing ladders, particularly down.
In the end, Mr. Caduggan had to improvise a sort of hammock and, with the aid of a couple of friends, got Uncle Sam into the thing and lowered him from a window. One of the friends, who had thoughtfully brought a camera along, took a picture of the majestic descent and turned it over to the Pork Ferry Sentinel, which printed it, subsequently, with a complete account of the situation.
So that any element of secrecy for which the boys had hoped lay shattered in a thousand pieces.
"You can't get away with anything in this life," Julian remarked gloomily. "At least I can't."