The men on the edge of the marsh received him with a broad grin.
“Well,” said Hike to them, “I think I’ll go to bed. Tired of walking. Say, have you got anything to eat?”
“Kid,” said Bat, the leader, “you’re all right. (Shut up, you Snafflin—you only got what was coming to you!)”
“Mosquitoes kind of thick to-night,” observed Hike, cheerfully. “Think we’ll have a little rain. Seems wet.” He stooped down and brushed an imaginary speck of dust off the only place on his trousers that was not thick with mud.
“You’re all right,” grinned Bat, again. “Hanged if I’m going to tie you up again. But there’ll be two men—two—watching you, all the time. Kid for a kid—yes, and for a man—you’re a wonder. Say, how did you cut through them ropes without a knife?”
“I let your friend Snafflin look at ’em,” said Hike, “and they just rotted in two. Well, I guess I’ll go to bed. Is the water hot enough for a bath?”
CHAPTER XIII
DETECTIVE POODLE
Lieutenant Adeler and Poodle Darby had not received a single word from Hike, even by noon of the day after his disappearance.
General Thorne grew alarmed. The police were quietly notified, without letting the newspapers know; and two police detectives were put on the case. Besides them, two operatives from a good private detective-agency were employed. The great Poodle had to box his own ears, to keep from feeling conceited at the way in which these private detectives consulted him; and the anxious respect with which they hinted that they knew how Poodle had aviated with Hike across the country.
Poodle talked the case over with Lieutenant Adeler; suggesting that Captain Willoughby Welch must have something to do with the matter; but this the Lieutenant, good army-man as he was, refused to listen to. Then Master Poodle took a long walk with himself, and thought the whole thing over thoroughly. He decided: “Here’s where I become a grand little detective.”