Evidently this was the case. For the outside world within range of our ears was a well of silence into daybreak.
Tom got breakfast. And when the dishes were washed and put away, we went outside and covered every inch of the yard. But the midnight prowler had dropped no clews.
We had dinner; then we played games in the front yard. Darkness came. And again we heard the mysterious prowler on the back porch. But this was the night’s only disturbance.
Scoop, I noticed, was pressing hard on his thinker.
“If ever there was a time when I wanted to skip school,” he said to us at breakfast, “it’s to-day.”
I knew what was worrying him. He was afraid that while we were in school the spy would break into the unguarded house and dig up the talking frog.
Yes, it was risky leaving the frog in the house without a guard. We talked it over.
“If you don’t want to leave the frog here,” I said to our leader, “why don’t you carry it along with you to school?” [[32]]
“It won’t go in my pocket.”
“Put it in a lunch box. You can keep the lunch box in your desk. Miss Grimes won’t know what you’ve got in it. She’ll think it’s full of sandwiches and pickles.”