“Read this paper before you look under the seat,” Pee-wee yelled.
“Speak not to me, P. Harris,” Harry said; “you’re the cause of my downfall. I was an honest young man until I met you.”
“You make me tired!” Pee-wee fairly screamed.
Just then somebody, gee whiz, I don’t know who, because everyone was laughing so, but anyway, somebody started to lift the back seat of the Cadillac when Pee-wee tumbled pell-mell into the car and pushed him out and sat plunk in the middle of the seat himself.
“There’s going to be—a—a—what-d’ye-call-it—a revolution!” he said.
“I’ll join it,” Brent said.
“Put me down,” Harry told him, “the more adventures the better. I like revolutions.”
“I mean a revelation,” Pee-wee yelled; “you just read that paper!”
Laugh! Gee whiz, I don’t know whether anyone there remembered about those things under the seat. Maybe Grove thought he had dreamed it. As for Skinny, he had been too far gone under the buffalo robe to think twice about it, I guess. I just watched Harry and Brent, while Harry read the articles out loud, with all the fellows crowding around him, to get a squint at it. And all the while, Pee-wee sat straight up on the middle of that back seat like a king on his throne. He was holding the seat down against all comers. He looked like a young hero.
“A burglary, hey?” Harry said, awful funny. “Let’s see; jewelry and silverware and a punch bowl. Fine. And Elsa West. Brent, you didn’t steal Elsa’s necklace, did you, without me knowing anything about it? I would have been glad to help you. I make a specialty of necklaces. Well, P. Harris, I’ve read the article. Tell us the worst.”