“I think he’s a pirate disguised as a soda clerk,” I told him. “Maybe he’ll foil us yet.”
“We’d better come in two or three times each day and get sodas,” the kid said, “then we can watch him.”
“Good idea,” I told him.
“Oh boy, won’t it be great!” he kept on. “When do you think we’ll start? We’ll go down to the library to-morrow and find out about that poplar, hey? And I’ll get a couple of big new bags to bring home the gold.” Jiminy crinkums, that kid was already on his way home with the treasure. I expected to see him the next day with a red sash on and a red cloth tied over his head and a dagger between his teeth.
I said, “Kid, don’t get too excited; I’ve got Harry Donnelle’s number all right. He’s not counting on finding any treasure. He just wants some place to go, that’s all. Maybe there’s one chance in a hundred of finding any gold. Don’t lose any sleep over it.”
“The automobile ought to have a name,” he said.
I said, “All right, we’ll call it the good ship Cadillac; that’s the kind of a machine it is.”
“There ought to be a mutiny,” he said.
“The only thing to mutiny will be the carburetor, or maybe the magneto,” I told him, “and then we’ll have to put in at some desert island and hunt for a garage.”
“Will the whole troop go?” he asked me.