A week later the Outlaws were sitting round the large wooden table of the one-time nursery in Ginger’s house. In a strained silence they wrote out the letter drafted by William, a copy of which was before each of them. The table was covered with ink stains. Their hair, their faces, their tongues, their collars, their fingers were covered with ink. Most of them wrote slowly and laboriously with ink-stained tongues protruding between ink-stained teeth.
“Dear Sir or Maddam (ran the copy),
On Satterdy we are going to have a Wembley not the one in London but one here so as to save you fairs and other exspences there will be natifs in natif coschume with natif potts and ammusments and other things which are secrits till the day entranse will be one penny exsit free ammusments are one penny hopping to have the pleshure of your compny,
Yours truely,
The Wembly Comitty.
P.S. It is a secrit who we are.
P.P.S. It will probly be in the feeld next the barn but notises will be put up latter.”
When the notes had been written the Outlaws were both physically and mentally exhausted. They could run and wrestle and climb trees all day without feeling any effects, but one page of writing always had the peculiar effect of exhausting their strength and spirits. As William said, “It’s havin’ to hold an uncomfortable pen an’ keep on thinkin’ an’ lookin’ at paper an’ sittin’ without a change. It’s—well I’d rather be a Red Indian where there aren’t no schools.”
The notices were distributed by the Outlaws personally after dark in order the better to conceal their identity. They did not deliver notices to their own families or the friends of their families. Their own families were apt to be suspicious and not very encouraging. The Outlaws regarded their families as stumbling blocks placed in their paths by a malicious Fate.
At last, spent and weary and ink-stained, they bade each other good-night.
“Well, it oughter turn out all right with all the trouble we’re takin’ over it,” said Ginger rather bitterly. “I feel wore out with writin’ an’ writin’ an’ walkin’ an’ walkin’ and stickin’ things through the letter boxes. I feel sim’ly wore out.”