CHAPTER VII
After supper we met at the office, though I'm bound to say I wasn'ttickled to death with the prospect of what was ahead.
"Mark," says I, "here we're goin' out to Center Line Bridge to meddlewith somethin' that don't concern us. It 'u'd serve us right if this ManWith the Black Gloves caught us and gave us the larrupin' of our lives."
"'Tis our b-business," says Mark. "Anythin' that's suspicious is thebusiness of a newspaper man. There's news in it.... And b-besides Ifigger it's our duty to do."
When Mark Tidd starts talking about duty you might as well lay down androll over. You couldn't change his mind with a ton of giant powder.
"Duty?" says I. "How?"
"Well," says he, "as citizens. Maybe these f-fellers are plannin'somethin' that ought to be stopped, and there hain't anybody to stop itbut us, b-because nobody else suspects 'em."
"All right," says I. "I expect I can run as fast as any of you."
"Besides," says Mark, "the man the Man With the Black Gloves is g-goin'to meet is named Jethro."
"What's that got to do with it?" I says.
"Heaps," says Mark, and then shut up like a clam. That's the way withhim. Sometimes he gets it into his head to be mysterious and to keep hisnotions shut up under his hat. Well, when he does you might as wellforget them, for he's as close-mouthed as a bulldog with a tramp's pantsin his teeth.
"Come on, then," says I, "let's get it over."
It was a half-hour's walk to the bridge, but before we got within aquarter of a mile of it Mark halted us.
"We can't go bangin' up t-t-there with a brass b-band," says he. "Therewouldn't be any meetin'. We got to come the Indian."
"Crawl a quarter of a mile through witch-hazel and swamp on our bellies,I expect," says I.
"There hain't any law compellin' you to come, Binney," says Mark, "but If-figgered you wouldn't want to miss anythin'."
"I don't," says I, "not even a good lickin', which most likely we'llgit. You hain't got any idea, Mark," says I, "how I love a goodlickin'."
He laughed and says, "Say, Binney, anybody'd think you was a millionyears old. Hain't there any f-f-fun in you? Here's a reg'lar game top-play that beats any game you can think up, and we can add to it byp-pretendin'." He was the greatest fellow for pretending I ever saw, andwhen he was at it he almost had you believing that what he _madebelieve_ was so.
"Go on," says I, "start up your game. I'll be taggin' right on behind."
"All right," says he. "Us four kids are the f-f-faithful followers of ayoung Duke. This young Duke has disappeared, and we kind of figger hisenemy, the Knight With the Black Gauntlets, has captured him and isholdin' him for r-ransom. See? But we don't know where. But our scoutstell us the Knight With the Black Gauntlets is close to our castle andwe set out to watch him to see if we can't rescue the Duke--and here webe. We know our enemy's ahead somewheres, and we want to git clost tohim to watch him and overhear what he s-says, if he says anythin'. Mostlikely the Duke will make us all knights if we rescue him, and I'vealways sort of hankered to be a knight."
"Me too," says Plunk. "Them knights sure had a circus, ridin' aroundwith lances and bustin' up tournaments and lickin' everybody they met byslammin' 'em over the head with an iron mallet or pokin' 'em off a horsewith a lance. That there Richard Cur the Lion was the best one, eh? Say,Mark, what did they call him Cur the Lion for? Curs and lions hain't gotmuch in common."
"'Tain't Cur," says Mark, "though it _does_ s-sound like it. You spellit C-o-e-u-r. The whole thing means 'of the Lion Heart.'"
"Fine," says Plunk. "That's a bully name."
"If you want a name," says I, "I'll give you one."
"What?" says he.
"Plunk of the Wooden Head," says I, because I was sort of disgusted.
"And I'll g-give _you_ one," says Mark. "It's Binney of the Complainin'Tongue."
I didn't say anything. There wasn't anything to say, and I might haveknown better, in the first place, than to go fooling with a scheme ofMark's and making fun of it. So I shut up and was glad to.
"Now," says Mark, "I f-figger that Knight'll stop clost to the bridgethat crosses the river dividin' his lands from ourn. Maybe there'll be am-messenger a-waitin' there for him. It's our business to hear what'ssaid, because a word may be d-dropped that'll show us where he'simprisoned our master, the Duke."
"How'll we manage it?" says Tallow.
"Divide up," says Mark. "You two men-at-arms, Tallow and Plunk, sneakover and come to the b-bridge from the left side of the road. There'sthick alders growin' right there and you can scrooch down in 'em. Binneyand I will t-tackle the job from the right. Then, if one p-party'sdiscovered and s-slain, the other party's got a chance to come throughalive and rescue the Duke."
"Huh!" says I. "I know which party I hope gits slain, if anybody does,and I hain't one of it."
We started off then, Mark and I going to the right, and Tallow and Plunkcutting off through the woods to the left.
"We want to get there g-good and early," says Mark, "so as to get allp-placed and settled before the Knight with the Black Gauntlets comes."
"All right," says I. "Maybe I can't think as fast as you can, but I canmake my legs go faster."
So off we went, for a while going as fast as we could plug, then, whenwe were getting so near that a man on the bridge might hear us, Markmade me stop hurrying and crawl.
"Maybe they got g-guards out," says he, "and we can't take any chances."
So we crawled the rest of the way, dodging from one tree to another andgetting mud on our knees and tearing holes in our pants. But it was fun.I was beginning to get excited myself, and I believe I really got toworrying about the young Duke that was held a captive. Yes, sir, I feltpretty bad about the hole he had got himself into, and says to Mark Ihoped they gave him enough to eat and treated him decent.
That's how persuading Mark is. He really gets you to think things arehappening that he's only pretending about.
Anyhow, we got to the bridge, or rather so close to it we could look itover careful and see if anybody was there. But not a soul was in sight.
"'Tain't safe," says Mark, "even if it looks l-like it was. They may bein ambush along the road. We got to f-find out."
We kept on crawling until we were sure nobody was on our side of thebridge anywheres. Then Mark made us wade the river, which was only aboutup to our knees in spots, to be sure nobody was hid on the other side.It would have been fine if there hadn't been a hole there and if Ihadn't stepped in it. But I did, and fell down and floundered around andlet out a yell.
"Hey!" Mark whispered. "Shut up! Want to git a l-lance through yourstummick?"
"Don't expect a feller to drownd without makin' a noise, do you?" saysI. "I notice you didn't fall into any holes."
"No," says he, with a grin. "I had you walk first so if there was oneyou'd sort of warn me of it."
"Which I done," says I, feeling pretty chilly and not what you couldcall comfortable.
"You've been wet before," says he, "and it didn't hurt you."
"Probably," says I, "it won't hurt me this time, but that hain't noreason I should be happy about it."
We didn't say any more until we'd scouted out the other side of thebridge and found that none of the Knight's men were hidden there.
"Now," says Mark, "we want to hide ourselves so's we can overhear whatthey s-s-say. Let's f-find a good place."
It was an old wooden bridge, and when you looked up at it from below youmade up your mind that it had better be fixed some time before long, foryou could see through cracks and splits and broken boards right up tothe sky.
"What's the matter," says I, "with hidin' down under the bridge, rightat the end? Nobody'll look there, and we can sit on the bank in the mudand be comfortable. I love to sit in the mud," says I.
"Good idee," says Mark. "Fine idee. We can hear p-plain, and not onechance in a hunderd of bein' seen."
Under we got and settled there as comfortable as was possible. I don'tkn
ow if you ever sat in black mud under an old bridge with your clothesdripping and the evening chilly, but if you did, and got any fun out ofit, why then, you are better at enjoying yourself than I am. My teethgot to chattering.
"Keep s-still," says Mark.
"You'll have to hold my jaw if you want me to," says I. "The cold makesit wiggle and rattle my teeth."
"Stuff your cap in your mouth," says he, which I did. Oh, it was apleasant party, what with chewing on an old cap and all that!
"Wonder if Tallow and Plunk are on deck," says I.
"Sure," says he; "you can always d-d-depend on _them_."
"Meanin'," says I, and feeling sort of peevish, "that you can't dependon me."
"You n-notice," says he, "that I picked you to come with me, don't you?"
That made me feel pretty good, like praise always does make a fellow,even if he don't deserve it, and after that the cold wasn't so chillynor my clothes so clammy on my back.
After about half an hour, which seemed like a week, we heard a horsecoming. It stopped at the end of the bridge and a man got out. Hewhistled, but nobody answered, and the man started to pacing up and downfrom one end of the bridge to the other. Then in another ten minutes upcame another rig, and a man got out of it.
"I been waitin' for you," says the first man.
"Huh!" says the second, and we recognized him as the Man With the BlackGloves, or the Knight With the Black Gauntlets, like he was promoted tobe to-night.
"Well?" he says in a minute.
"Everythin's all right," said the first man. "Rock don't remembernothin' he hadn't ought to, 'cause I've questioned him mighty close.Nobody's been sneakin' around to see him, though a lot of Jakes havedrove by to stare at him since them kids had that piece in the paper."
"Wigglesworth didn't leave any writing?" says the Knight.
"Huh!" says the second man, and we recognized him as theman with the black gloves]
"Not what you'd call writin'. Though he might. Acted toward the lastlike he was suspicious of me. Didn't let on nothin' to me, and kept tohimself. One night he was writin' in the library, but what he wrote Idunno. Maybe it was letters. He didn't leave anythin' around. That is,except a puzzle or somethin' he wrote out for Rock."
"Puzzle," says the Knight.
"Yes," says the first man, "puzzle, or else he'd gone crazy."
"What become of it?"
"Rock's got it."
"Thought I said to grab every bit of writing you could get your handson."
"This didn't amount to nothin'," said the man.
"You aren't on the job to think, but to do what you're told."
"Well, I done it," says the man; "anyhow I made a copy of it, and givethe old man's writin' to the kid."
"Let's have it," says the Knight.
He read it, or I guess that's what he was doing, because he was stillawhile. Then he grunted, disgusted-like.
"No sense to it," says he.
"Not a mite," says the other man.
"But there may be," says the Knight.
"Shucks!" says the man.
"Wigglesworth was queer--and suspicious. Look how he acted toward theboy. Maybe he made a writing. Seems like he must have. Didn't _tell_anybody, so far as I can find out. That's certain, I guess. But he musthave written. _Must_ have. And we've got to find it. Never can tell whena writing will pop up just when it will send you higher than a kite."
"I've looked till my eyes is wore out."
"Look some more," says the Knight.
"Where's Pekoe?"
"Nobody knows. Gone off to South America or India or the North Poleagain, likely. _He_ won't bother us."
"May some day."
"Don't believe he knows enough about things. If he had he'd hungaround."
And right there Tallow Martin let out a sneeze. I knew it was Tallow,because there ain't a man, woman, child, horse, cow, or mule inWicksville that could enter a sneezing match with him and even getsecond prize. Tallow would get all the prizes if there was a dozen.
"What's that?" says the Knight.
"Sneeze," says the other man.
"Somebody's around here--listening," says the Knight. "It came from thatway. Quick! After them."
Off they went, tearing into the bushes, and we could hear Plunk andTallow get up and flounder away. Mark was disgusted.
"Tallow," says he, "ought to train his nose to be quiet, or sell it to alighthouse for a foghorn. Now the fat's in the f-f-fire."
"They'll never catch those kids," says I.
"Not likely to," says he, "but they'll be on their guard now. They knowsomebody was listenin'--and if somebody was l-listenin' it meanssomebody was suspicious of 'em."
"Looks that way," says I, "but what do we suspect 'em of?"
"I don't know," says he, "but it's somethin' to do with Mr. Wigglesworthand that kid."
"Sure," says I, "but let's not worry about that right now. Let's maketracks while they're gone."
"Can't leave Plunk and Tallow," says he. "Maybe they n-n-need help."
That was Mark all over. He'd stick to you like a corn-plaster, and hewouldn't quit sticking till he'd got you out of any fix you were in. Ofcourse I couldn't go off, either, and not know what had happened, so weclimbed out of the mud and started into the woods after the men.
We didn't go far, though, before we heard them coming back, and laiddown behind some bushes till they were past. They didn't have anycaptives, so we knew the kids were safe.
"Well," says Mark, when it was safe to move along again, "we know onething. We know where our master, the Duke, is imprisoned."
"Oh," says I, "do we?"
"Yes," says he, "he's shut up in Castle Wigglesworth, and they won'tl-let him use his own name, but call him Rock. The next thing on ourprogram is to t-t-try to get a chance to talk to him and l-look over thelay of the land."
We went on back to the printing-office as quick as we could, and Plunkand Tallow were there looking pretty scratched up and dilapidated, andfrightened a little, I guess. Mark didn't say a word about Tallow'ssneezing, though Tallow looked pretty guilty. But Mark knew Tallowdidn't do it on purpose, and he never lit into a fellow much, anyhow. Ifyou did something that was wooden-headed he might look at you so you'dwish the floor would open up and let you through, but that would be all.Oh, he was a bully fellow to go into things with, all right.
"Now," says he, "we b-better get to bed. To-morrow Binney and I aregoin' to Wigglesworth Castle to t-try to see the Duke and to get asquint at that p-puzzle paper he's got. Maybe there's somethin'important in it. Bet there is."
And we all headed for home.
Mark Tidd, Editor Page 7
