"An old plan we stole a long time ago," Gerald explained modestly. "We were just kids then."
Toffee glanced around to see what George was up to.
The ghost had been curiously quiet all day. Occasionally he had wandered over to the catapult and observed it with quiet speculation, then returned to watch Cecil at his chores. Through it all, though, he had kept a careful eye on Marc and Toffee and Gerald. He seemed to have something on his mind.
It wasn't until early evening when he came over to join the group. With the air of a kibitzer he strolled to a position behind Gerald. He stood there for a moment or two, teetering nonchalantly on the balls of his feet, then reached out and touched Gerald on the shoulder.
"I think Cecil needs your help, old man," he smiled. "He's getting ready to stuff the bomb."
"Stuff it?" Gerald asked.
"Well, whatever it is."
"I can't leave," Cecil said. "He told me to stick here."
"I'll stick in your place," George offered. "I'll be positively gluey."