Jimmy stopped suddenly. “Footprints,” he repeated. “Say, Brook, can we get to the place where you found the coat by walking?”
“Sure,” Brook said. “It would take twice as long as it would in a canoe, but,” he added ruefully, “it would be twice as safe.”
“Then let’s go,” Jimmy yelled. “I want to have a look at the footprints you found in the clearing.” He turned to Pat. “Okay if we go?”
Pat nodded. “As long as you all stick together this time.”
As they hurried through the brush with Brook in the lead, Jimmy explained. “A few days before you came, Alf,” he said, “we had a lot of excitement. I told you how Penny fell down into the old well, but I didn’t tell you that somebody came snooping around the place that night.”
Alf stared at him. “You certainly didn’t. What’s the idea of keeping secrets from one?”
Jimmy grinned. “The truth of the matter is that I forgot all about it. First we figured it was a tramp, and then when we realized that he must know his way around our property pretty well, we decided it must have been one of those dopey villagers who think there’s buried treasure on the place.”
Brook stopped to turn around and glare at Jimmy. “What do you mean ‘dopey’? If you don’t believe in that buried treasure, why did you lure us into helping you dig up every spot that didn’t have something growing on it?”
Jimmy’s dark eyes twinkled with laughter. “I believe in the treasure all right, but I wouldn’t be dopey enough to trespass on other people’s property at night trying to find it. You can get a bullet through your head very neatly that way.”
“Oh, I see what you mean,” Brook said, completely mollified. He started off again at a fast trot. “Was your night prowler a dopey villager?”