“Tutter boys, prob’ly.”
“I suppose so. Oh, gee! I guess it isn’t any use, Uncle Abner,” and I was struck by the weary, discouraged tone of the boy’s voice. “I’ve searched and searched. But I don’t seem able to find a thing. And now I wouldn’t dare to go back if I wanted to. For the boys know about the secret door in the chimney. And they’d lay for me.”
“Um.... I’m all out of patience with you, Tommy Weir.”
“Please don’t scold, Uncle Abner.”
“You need to have a good stick laid on you, you do.”
I was beginning to see that the old man’s threats, like his fierce expression, didn’t amount to much.
“Did you ever hear of a cat killer, Uncle Abner?”
“A which?”
“A cat killer—a man who strangles cats. The boys asked me about it over and over, as though they thought I ought to know what they were talking about. And one of them says he saw something at the mouth of the tunnel. You know what I told you!”
“Tommy! Did he say it was creepin’?”