“I guess he doesn’t want his father to know he was using the car,” Westy said. “That’s why he sneaks out.”
“He had to come in with it, though,” I said.
Westy said, “Sure, but that isn’t any reason for him not watching his step when he goes away. He wasn’t going to show himself on Willow Place till he was sure no one was there.”
“Well, there’s no harm done,” I said. “We’ve got the flashlight.”
“Yes, and he’s got our promise,” said Westy.
“He needn’t lose any sleep over that,” I said. “A scout’s honor is to be trusted—Law one, page thirty-four. Correct. Let’s go over and get a couple of sodas.”
CHAPTER XVI—TWO—SEVEN!
I went to bed early that night because I was good and tired. I don’t know how long I had been asleep, but all of a sudden I was wide awake listening to the fire whistle. I guess it must have been the fire whistle that awakened me. I heard four blasts, because I counted them. That would mean the fire was ’way down South Bridgeboro. Then it started again, and I realized that I had only heard the end of it. I counted all the blasts this time. There were two, then seven. I said to myself, “That’s somewhere near the station.” I could hear the engine siren a long way off. Then I went to sleep again.
The next day was Sunday, and as long as I live I will never forget it. When I went down to breakfast there were my mother, father and sister Marjorie at the table. The sun was shining right through the bay window, and that made it seem like Sunday, because on Sundays we don’t have breakfast till about the time the sun gets around there. It made it seem like Sunday, too, because my father had his smoking jacket on.
As soon as I sat down my father said, kind of offhand, “Did you hear the fire whistle last night, Roy?”