“A scout—a scout—he’s supposed to be thrifty,” Pee-wee breathed excitedly; “he’s supposed to be economical. Thirty-one cent adventures are all right. What—what’s the use of wasting money?”
“He may be right at that,” said Ray reasonably.
“Oh, absolutely,” said Fuller.
CHAPTER XXXIV
THE CLUE
If Hope Stillmore could have seen the old lady’s partner at cards as he appeared creeping stealthily down the stairs in that still, dark hour, she would have laughed. For the girl was not without a sense of humor.
The three adventurers had dressed in a great hurry and in a sudden inspiration (as Pee-wee would have called it) Fuller had thrown a fancy table cover over his shoulder and drawn it in at the waist by a broken trunk strap (souvenir of the departed Braggens) which he had found in the room. He looked not unlike a Spanish bull fighter.
A scout is supposed to be not only economical, but cautious, and Pee-wee did not follow his two friends quite to the scene of excavation. He did not take his thirty-one cents’ worth all at once, but prudently fell behind, taking about fifteen cents’ worth. Fuller stepped up first, Ray presently joined him, and Pee-wee advanced as he gathered courage. One look at the stranger informed the three that he was the man they had seen at the station.
Like a flash of lightning, Fuller reached for the coat.