With breathless intentness Dee listened for more. A faint “Correct” reached him, then the word “When?” “The Thirteenth” was the answer. After that silence save for the weather reports coming from the Great Lakes and a jumble of messages flying from here and there from boy to boy across the city. The words Dee had heard might well have been some of these, but where had he heard of the “shivering maples” for eyebrows? He racked his mind in vain. Eddie, clamoring for the table, came raving up, followed by Bill.
The three boys were alone. Dee told them what he had heard but for awhile they were able to make nothing of it. Suddenly Eddie exclaimed, “I know what! Do you suppose it is the face we saw on the hillside out at camp that day?”
“I don’t know,” replied Dee, startled.
“What was that?” asked Bill.
The boys told him.
“Well, if there is a face there, what do they want with it?” he asked. “I bet that is it, but how are we going to know what they mean? Say, suppose it has something to do with all that dynamiting? What would 'Wash Seattle’ mean?”
“Washington and Seattle,” said Dee. “The next places to be dynamited.”
“My, my, you are cheerful!” said Bill, shivering. “I say we report this to somebody!”
“We can’t,” answered Eddie. “Frank and Ernest are both away, and I am afraid to tell the police.”
“If we mix up in it, we will get our own little heads blown off like as not,” said Bill ruefully. “Mine is a nice head.”