“Sure thing,” Red put in.
“We saw him land in his boat,” Peg picked up. “And, as you hadn’t come into sight, Red and I followed him, to help you in case he tackled you. We saw him switch you into the cave. And we would have rushed to your rescue if the Strickers hadn’t come into sight. While we were debating what to do, the man came out of the cave and disappeared in the direction of his boat. Now was our chance, we said. And we got busy.”
“Guess we worked it pretty slick, hey?” Red bragged on himself.
“I’ll tell the world you did,” I cried. “But let’s get out of here,” I added quickly. “For the killer is liable to be back at any moment.”
Outside I was treated to a sight of the enemy, each one gagged with his own handkerchief and tied, wrists and ankles, with the ropes of the flattened tent.
“How do you like it?” I purred, looking down at Bid in warm triumph.
“Um-m-m-m-m!” he returned, chewing his gag.
“Untie the handkerchiefs,” Peg directed, starting to work. “For we should worry how loud they yell now. Our work’s done.” [[223]]
While he and Red removed the gags I ran up the hill. For it had come to me suddenly that I had dropped my borrowed pants at the spot where the turtle had nabbed me.
“I don’t know whose pants they are,” I told the Strickers upon my return, “but here’s a nightshirt for the unlucky one. So long, Biddie ol’ dear! The next time you see a ghost you want to talk pretty to it and then it won’t harm you.”