“To Milwaukee, suh.”
“To Milwaukee?” echoed Dave and Victor, almost in the same breath.
“Dat’s perxactly what he done said, suh.”
The boys looked at each other in amazement. Victor clenched his small fists and whistled shrilly, while Dave gazed thoughtfully at the grinning countenance of Benjamin Rochester.
“Tom gone to Milwaukee!” he murmured, in highly perplexed tones. “And left no message for us?”
“No, suh; de gemman didn’t say nuffin,” answered Benjamin. He wagged his head knowingly. “But I had me s’picions, suh; ’deed I had. He acted awful queer, like he were done skeered, suh; an’ kep’ a-lookin’ an’ a-lookin’.”
“Here, Brownie”—Victor Collins seized Dave’s wrist and fairly dragged him toward the door—“come right along. I’ve got an idea.”
The instant they were outside, Victor, his eyes sparkling, stopped by the curb and began a broadside.
“Say, Brandon, remember how I kidded Clifton this morning?” he demanded.
“Yes,” answered Dave.