Brent said, “No, I was eating a banana. I said two scouts, but really it was only about one and a half. They were supposed to be alert, observant, resourceful.”
I said, “That’s right, rub it into us.”
He said, “While they were arguing on the back step I stood upon a grocery box and crawled through the little window in back of the front seat. I was free, like Monte Carlo—I mean Monte Cristo—”
“You mean Monticello,” I told him.
“You mean Montenegro,” Pee-wee put in.
“The world seemed bright and new,” Brent said.
“You’re crazy,” I told him; “go on, where did you get those clothes?”
He said, “Shh. Can I count on you never to breathe a word? The man I got these clothes from lies dead in yonder swamp.”
“Who put him there?” Pee-wee wanted to know.
Brent said, “Shh, I did. The man was innocent. He was standing in a field beyond the swamp. He was doing no harm. I approached him, crawling through the grass.”