“We’ll find it,” Pee-wee said; “we’ll find it if we, if we—drop in our tracks.”
Brent said, “That’s something I’ve always longed to do—drop in my tracks. I’d like to be rescued by a St. Bernard dog.”
I said, “Good night, have a heart. There are dogs enough in this series of thrilling adventures.”
Brent said, “Well anyway, this is the only story of adventure that has a scarecrow for a villain. What d’ye say?”
XXIX—THE MYSTERY DEEPENS
Brent said, “Well, as long as you like my little mystery, we might as well take a peep into it. We may have a couple of hairbreadth escapes, you never can tell. By rights, we ought to quarrel over the treasure after we have found it, and all kill each other. That’s the way they usually do.”
“They don’t do that way any more,” Pee-wee said; “they divide it up.”
Brent said, “No, I insist on quarreling over it.”
He folded the paper and put it back in his pocket. It seemed funny for a paper like that to be in an old black frock coat like ministers wear. I had to laugh at Brent on account of the sober way he tucked it back into the pocket.
I said, “It’s got me interested, that’s one sure thing. But how are we going to find out where that place is?”