“What would you do?” I asked.
“I wouldn't let a doctor bring any, that's what I wouldn't do,” said Swatty. “I'd find out what doctor was going to bring it, and I'd fix him all right, you bet your boots!”
“Well, Doctor Miller is going to bring them, if anybody does,” I said. “He's our doctor and he's Bony's doctor, ain't he? What can me and Bony do, I'd like to know?”
“Well, I could help you, couldn't I?” Swatty wanted to know. “I would n't have to go back on you just because Doctor Miller isn't our doctor, would I?”
“Well, what would we do, then?” I asked, but you bet I felt a whole lot better; if Swatty was willing to help us it was different. He was a good helper. Bony looked better, too.
Swatty pulled a handful of grass and fooled with it and I could see he was thinking mighty hard.
“We've got the cave, ain't we?” he said after while. “Well, then, all we've got to do is to get Doctor Miller and put him in the cave and keep him there, and then he can't do anything about it, can he?”
Of course that was so. I wouldn't have thought of it, and Bony would n't, but Swatty thought of it in less than a minute. But right away I thought of how hard it would be to do. If Doctor Miller had been a kid it would have been easy, but he was a man and he was a mighty big man, too. He was bigger around than any man in town, I guess, and almost as tall.
I asked Swatty, and he said of course we couldn't grab Doctor Miller and push him a mile or so out to the cave and boost him up the clay bank and into the cave.
“We've got to think out a plan,” he said, only he said “plam,” like he always does, and “gart,” instead of “got.” So we thought, and it wasn't any use. So Swatty said we might as well go out to the cave and do some work and think out there. So we went.