Mark Tidd, Editor

  CHAPTER XI

  Mark was around at my house, whistling for me, before I was throughbreakfast, so I gobbled down my last four pancakes and hustled out. Hehad another lunch as big as a trunk, so it was safe to say we wouldn'tstarve before noon.

  About a half a mile from the Wigglesworth place we saw a buggy comingtoward us like the horse was running away, but it wasn't. A man wasdriving, and the man was Jethro. When he saw us he pulled up so short healmost snapped his horse's head off, which was mighty poor driving.

  "Hey!" says he. "Seen a kid down that way anywheres?"

  "L-lots of 'em," says Mark.

  "Don't git fresh," says Jethro.

  "I wasn't," says Mark. "I was t-t-tellin' the truth."

  "Did you see a kid," says Jethro, "that looked like he was runnin'away?"

  "How does a kid l-look that's runnin' away?" Mark asked.

  Jethro reached for the whip like he had intentions of taking a lick atus, but he changed his mind.

  "You know all the kids in Wicksville," says he. "This was a strangeone--one you hain't never seen before. See sich a one?"

  "No," says Mark. "What's he runnin' away for?"

  "'Cause he's a ongrateful little skunk," says Jethro. "If you see anystrange kids sort of hidin' around, you tell me and I'll give you adollar."

  "You're Mr. Wigglesworth's man, hain't you?" says Mark, like he didn'tknow.

  "Yes," says Jethro.

  "Didn't know you had a b-boy," says Mark.

  "He wasn't mine. I was sort of guardian over him."

  "Oh!" says Mark. "And he's run off and you want us to help you f-findhim?"

  Jethro didn't say anything for a minute, but thought it over. Then hesays to himself something about kids being all over creation and seeingeverything that goes on. After that he says to us:

  "You kids make a business of lookin' for this runaway, and I'll pay youfive dollars if you find him."

  "Why don't you advertise?" says Mark, and at that Jethro looked sort ofstartled.

  "Look here," says he, "no advertisin' goes. This is a secret between youand me. See? You hain't to talk about it to anybody or you don't get nofive dollars."

  "Mum's the word," says Mark.

  "You report to me at Wigglesworth's house," says Jethro, "if you findout anything."

  "All right," says Mark, and off drove Jethro. When he was gone Markturned and winked at me.

  "Hired by the enemy," says he. "Now there's a way we can get into theWigglesworth grounds and house any t-t-time we want to without makin'Jethro suspicious."

  "Sure," says I, "but what's this runaway business? Has Rock run off?"

  "It l-looks that way," says Mark,

  "What for?" says I.

  "How should I know?" says Mark. "Let's head for the arbor and see ifhe's left a l-letter."

  We ducked off the road and slid up the hedge. This time Mark was toointerested in what was really happening to do any pretending about dukesor knights, so we just sneaked along like a couple of boys till we gotto the arbor, and wriggled through the hedge. There was a letter in thehiding-place.

  _Dear Friend_ [the letter said], I'm going away. I don't like it here because Jethro keeps getting meaner and meaner, and watches me all the time like I was in jail, and won't let me do anything. I won't stand it. Jethro isn't anything to me, and neither is that man with black gloves that comes and scowls at me and asks a lot of questions. I'm going off to China or Florida or the South Sea Islands or some place, so most likely I'll never see you again.

  I don't know what I was brought to this place for. If anybody has a right to make me stay, why doesn't he say so? I might as well be in jail. I guess I can earn a living, all right. Maybe I'll go to Alaska and dig gold. Maybe I'll write to you some day.

  Yours truly,

  _Rock_.

  "H'm!" says Mark. "He's g-goin' a lot of places, hain't he?"

  "Wisht I was goin' with him," says I. "The South Sea Islands soundsfine."

  "But it's quite a walk," says Mark, "especially when you think aboutcrossin' the Pacific Ocean to get there."

  "He'd stow away on a vessel?" says I.

  "Shucks!" says he. "Rock won't get twenty m-miles from Wicksville."

  "Bet he does," says I.

  "Shucks!" says Mark again. "We got to f-find him, and I hain't goin' tolook in Alaska, nor Florida, either."

  "You hain't goin' to give him up to Jethro, be you?"

  "That," says he, "is exactly what I'm goin' to do."

  "Mark Tidd," says I, "I wouldn't 'a' thought it. For five dollars you'dsqueal on this poor kid that's in a peck of trouble. Well," says I,getting madder and madder, "you can hunt for him alone. I won't haveanything to do with it. It's a dirty trick," says I.

  "Binney," says Mark, "l-look out or you'll bile out of your shirt. Keepit on," says he. "How many d-dirty tricks have you seen me play onfolks?"

  "None," says I, "but that don't stop this from bein' one."

  He just grinned as good-natured as could be.

  "You're foolin'," says I.

  "No," says he, "I mean it."

  "You'll give up Rock to them men?"

  "Yes," says he, "if I f-f-find him."

  "Then," says I, "you and me is through. We been perty good friends, andwe've done a heap of things together, and I guess I figgered you wasalmost as great a man as Napoleon Bonaparte, but you hain't. I hain't assmart as you," says I, "but you can bet I don't go givin' away any kidsthat's in trouble. You go look for him," says I, "and I'll go look forhim. But I won't be tellin' on him if I find him. I'll warn him," saysI.

  "Binney," says Mark, "you're a n-noble young man right out of a book.Honest you are. You're a hero," says he.

  "I hain't," says I.

  "L-look here, you saphead," says he, "have some sense. I'm goin' to gitRock back into Jethro's hands," says he, "but not to help Jethro. We_got_ to have him back here. How we g-g-goin' to find out about him ifhe's run away? Tell me that. There's somethin' mighty mysterious andimportant about him. Jethro and the Man With the Black Gloves hain'td-doin' all they're up to just for fun, be they? Not by a jugful. Rockhad ought to have known b-better than to go sneakin' off, but I s'posehe got l-lonesome. Poor kid! But lonesome or not, he's got to comeb-back."

  I felt pretty silly and didn't think of anything to say.

  "Come on," says Mark.

  "Where?" says I.

  "To l-look for Rock," says he.

  "Where'll we look?"

  "Well," says he, "if you was Rock and was r-r-runnin' away, where'd yougo?"

  "South Sea Islands," says I.

  He just grunted scornful-like. "Which way would you g-g-go first?"

  "Right to the depot," says I, "and take a train."

  "How'd you pay for your t-ticket? Rock didn't have a cent."

  That was a facer. "Then I'd steal a ride on a freight," says I.

  "No you wouldn't," says he. "You wouldn't go toward t-town at all.Jethro was watchin' you close. You had to sneak away in a s-second whenhe wasn't lookin'. How'd you m-manage it?"

  "Why," says I, "I'd git near the gate gradual, and then I'd run like thedickens."

  "You wouldn't, n-n-neither--especial if you wanted to leave a l-letter.I'll tell you what Rock did. He got hold of p-p-paper and pencil andpocketed 'em. Then he went out in the yard and walked around. You seehow he did the other day when we came here first. He hain't any n-ninny.Well, he'd walk around the yard and after a while he'd c-c-come intothis arbor. For t-two reasons. To leave the letter he was goin' towrite, and to get time to hustle off to quite a d-distance before Jethrosuspected he was escapin'."

  "How's that?" says I.

  "Why," says he, "Jethro'd s-see Rock come in here, and he'd think heknew where he was. He wouldn't come p-pokin' in to see. So Rock wouldwrite his l-letter in a hurry, and scrooch out through the hedge andrun. All the t-time Jethro'd be thinkin' he was right in here. Maybe itwould b-be an hour before he'd begin to wonder what
Rock was up to sol-long and come in to see. In an hour Rock could move off quite a ways."

  "Sure," says I, "but where'd he move to?"

  "He'd git away from the road," says Mark. "He wouldn't take the roadt-toward Wicksville, and he wouldn't go the other way, and he wouldn'tcross the road and go s-south, because somebody might see him when hecrossed. There hain't but one other way for him to go, and that'sn-north toward the r-river and the woods. That's where he went."

  "Sounds likely," I says.

  "It's sure," says he. "He got through the hedge and took a l-look andseen those woods right there. Then he made for 'em lickety-split."

  "When did he go?" says I. "The letter didn't say."

  "This m-mornin'," says Mark. "Jethro was all excited. Didn't he act thatway? Like he'd just found out Rock was gone? Sure he did. He acted likehe was most r-rattled to pieces, and the first thing he did was to hitcha horse and go f-flyin' off wild-like, just lookin' for the sake oflookin'. Anyhow, Jethro hain't got many brains. Yes, Binney, you can betJethro just f-found it out."

  "Then," says I, "Rock hain't been gone more 'n an hour or two."

  "That's how I f-f-figger," says he.

  "Come on, then," says I, "he's got quite a start."

  We streaked it along till we got out of the field and into the woods.Maybe you think because Mark Tidd is fat that he can't move. Well you'dget fooled there, for though there's enough of him for two boys andtheir little brother rolled into one, he can get from one place toanother about as fast as the next one. I've read those rhinoceroses andhippopotamuses in Africa are pretty whopping animals, but that when theyget started they can run to beat a horse. I don't know if it's so, butMark Tidd sort of leads me to believe it.

  Right in the edge of the woods Mark stopped and picked up a cap.

  "There," says he.

  "Rock's?" says I.

  "He was wearin' it when I saw it l-last," says he.

  "Must 'a' been in a hurry, not to pick it up."

  "P-panic," says Mark. "He got to runnin' across the f-field and then gotscairt. It works that way. Once you start to run, the idee gits intoyour head s-somebody's chasin' you hard. I'll bet Rock thought Jethrowas right onto his heels. He didn't stop for anythin'."

  "Hope he hain't runnin' yet," says I.

  "Can't tell," says Mark, "but I was right about the way he went, eh?"

  You see, when he did a thing that was pretty bright he liked to havefolks tell him so. Not that he was what you'd call vain. He wasn't, andhe wasn't all excited about himself, either, but he was funny that way,and I guess we liked him all the better on account of it. So I told himhe was right about it, and that it was a good job of figgering thingsout. And I was telling him what was so, too, for it _was_ a good job. Iwouldn't have thought out what Rock had done in forty years.

  We cut straight through the woods to the river, but when we came to itwe stopped, for we didn't know whether Rock went up-stream or down, orwaded across.

  "He didn't wade," says Mark, "b-because he don't know this river. Itl-looks like it might be deep out there, and the current's swift. Hewouldn't tackle it."

  "I guess not," says I, "but which way did he go?"

  "That," says Mark, "is what we got to f-find out. Maybe he didn't comeright down to the river at all, but I think he did."

  "Why?" says I.

  "To see if he couldn't get across. He'd f-feel safer with a riverbetween him and Jethro. But he didn't cross here. It looks dangerous.Either he went up or down, and I think close to the water, searchin' fora place to cross."

  "It's perty soft along here for quite a ways," says I. "Maybe we canfind footprints."

  "You go up," says Mark, "and I'll go down. Holler if you f-f-find anythin'."

  I went off like he said, pretending I was an Indian. Maybe a couple ofhunderd feet upstream I came on a place where somebody had walked rightdown to the edge of the river, because there in the mud were tracksfilled with water. The place was tramped up quite a bit, and there weretracks leading back away from the river toward the bluff and the trees.

  I yelled at Mark and he turned and came.

  We followed the tracks part way up the bluff and then they turnedup-stream, going along among the trees. Then, all of a sudden, they wentup the bank again and turned right back down-stream the way they'd comefrom, and then they went higher till they came to a rail fence rightalong the edge of the bluff and among the trees. From that minute wecouldn't find another track.

  "Huh!" says Mark, after a couple of minutes. "Rock's all right. Knowwhat he did?"

  "No," says I. "What?"

  "Got on top of the fence and went along. Maybe took off his shoes,because the t-top rail hain't scratched up anywheres. Figgered hewouldn't leave any trail. What with his doublin' back and f-f-forth, wedon't know which way he's aimin'. Maybe he went up and maybe he wentdown. He's a good one, all right."

  "Too good for us," says I, sort of discouraged.

  "Huh!" says Mark, like he didn't like my saying that very well.

  "What'll we do?" says I.

  "Eat," says he, "and then hunt both ways. Separate like we did below."

  "All right," says I, and that's what we did. But not a sign had eitherof us seen of him when we met at the office just before supper-time.Rock had just naturally up and disappeared.