"I should say it was some letter," said Porky. "And you are perfectly welcome." He rose and looked at his wrist watch, frowning as he did so. "Most night again," he said. "Seventeen o'clock by their queer old way of counting. It's mighty funny where my brother is." He walked restlessly to the window and with unseeing eyes stared hard at the ragged uptorn world outside.
CHAPTER IV
WHERE WAS PORKY?
Where was Beany?
Beany himself, trussed up neatly with many cords and wearing a scientific gag which made speech or yells impossible, yet which did not hurt him very much, would have been glad to have been able to answer that question.
Where was Beany? Beany didn't know where Beany was, and also he felt a natural and lively curiosity as to where Beany was going to be in the near future.
He had entered the passage in the wall on the spur of the moment; he had acted without counting the possible cost or the probable consequences.
Usually the boys acted together; if possible, they always left some clue for the other to follow. Hence they had hitherto come out of some pretty dark and serious scrapes with whole skins and a desire for further adventures. But this time Porky, in the General's office, Porky, sound asleep with his head on the General's desk, could not know that his twin brother was faring forth alone on a desperate adventure. If he had known at the moment what was happening, if any warning could have pierced his sleep-drugged brain, well, this story would not have been written.
Beany popped into the secret passage and slid the panel shut behind him with a careless backward-reaching hand. His eyes and his thoughts were on the pitchy dark before him. He thought with a sense of relief that he had a tiny flashlight in his pocket, but whether it would flash when required to do so was quite another matter.
Beany was bitter on the subject of flashlights, knowing well how apt they are to respond to every touch when not required particularly to do so, and having learned by sad experience that it was when the festive burglar was in the room, the pet kitten down the well, or the diamond in the crack that they would not flash at all. So he merely felt of the pocket where the flash reposed, and stood silent, back against the panel, waiting to accustom those marvelous eyes of his to the dense darkness.