Dusk was falling, and ahead of them loomed the evil hour of bedtime which they were ever ready to postpone.
“I tell you what,” said William, his freckled face suddenly alight, “let’s go ’n see how he’s gettin’ on—you know, him what we saw ridin’ up in the cab. We c’n go an’ watch him through his window. It’s quite dark.”
******
They watched him in petrified amazement. They watched him as, dressed in a black dressing-gown and a black skull-cap, he pottered about, laying out test tubes and pestles and mortars and crucibles and curious-looking instruments and bottles of strangely coloured liquids. Eyes and mouths opened still further when little Mr. Galileo Simpkins brought in his skeleton and set it up with tender care and pride in its corner.
They crept away through the darkness in a stricken silence and did not speak till they reached the road. Then: “Crumbs!” said William in a hoarse whisper. “What is he? What’s he doin’?”
“I think he’s a sort of Bolsh’vist goin’ to blow up all the world,” said Douglas with a burst of inspiration.
“An’ a dead body an’ all,” said Ginger, deeply awed by the memory of what they had seen.
“P’raps he’s just doin’ ordinary chemistry,” suggested Henry mildly.
This suggestion was indignantly scouted by the Outlaws.
“Course it’s not jus’ ordin’ry chemistry,” said William, “not with all that set-out.”