For all he knew to the contrary, the bag had suddenly come to life and had jumped into the air like a grasshopper. Maybe he believed in spooks. I don’t know. Anyway, he took to his heels. A talking bag was more than he could stand.
It was funny. Oh, boy, how we laughed! Still, we didn’t waste any time. Dropping through the trapdoor to the kitchen floor, we grabbed the bag and hoofed it for the river.
To this day we don’t know where the soap man disappeared to or what became of his old horse and soap satchel. But it was a wise thing for him that he cleared out. Otherwise he would have landed in jail. For the officer was looking for him the following morning. If he is still alive, I imagine that he’ll give Tutter a wide berth hereafter.
Coming to our boat, I whipped out my knife and cut the tie rope, wanting to get away from the pier as quickly as possible. Scoop cranked the motor. Put! put! put! Did the little old exhaust sound good to us? I’ll tell the world. The spy couldn’t catch us now.
Passing the Woodlawn Bay Hotel, we soon [[219]]came within sight of the bridge, a shadowy span in the early darkness. Hearing us coming, Deacon Pillpopper ran to the pier to meet us to learn how we had come out and to help us put the boat away.
It was after nine o’clock when we came into town. And when we rounded the hotel corner, there sat Gennor in his red automobile, directly under a street light, sort of posing important-like for the benefit of the common, everyday people passing along the sidewalk.
But his pushed-up chest went punctured when we hurried by, carrying the leather bag. Oh, boy, did his eyes bulge! But he kept shut. For he had sense enough to realize that he was licked.
Scoop chuckled.
“I wish I could have seen his face when he discovered the empty luggage box. I’ll bet he felt sick.”
We learned afterwards that the red car struck a bad bump shortly after it had disappeared from our sight. No doubt the bag was thrown from the car into the road, where it was picked up by the soap man.