Mark Tidd, Editor Part 13

He took most of the day at it, and when night come around how many do you think he'd grabbed on to? Forty-one. Yes, sir. And he had the cash money for every one of them. That left us with just exactly ninety-one dollars and a half in the treasury, and so we were really some better off than we had been before the collector came around.

"Fiddlesticks!" says Tallow. "Wisht the collector hadn't showed up. We'd almost be _rich_."

"If he hadn't s-s-showed up," says Mark, "we wouldn't have thought up this s-scheme. It's _havin'_ to do things that makes folks do their best. Bein' necessary is one of the best things can happen to a f-f-fellow."

Wasn't that just like him! And you'll notice he didn't grab all the credit himself, though, goodness knows, he was ent.i.tled to it. No, sir, he says, "we" thought up the scheme. He was the real kind of a kid to do anything with, because he kept you feeling good. All the time you knew he was the one that was thinking up things and doing them. All we did was trail around and help. But just the same, he made us feel we had as much to do with it as he did. I expect we worked all the harder because of that. Do you know, I shouldn't wonder if that was a pretty good way for all folks that has other folks working for them to act. The working folks would work harder and take more pleasure in it. I expect Mark had it all figured out that way.

CHAPTER VII

After supper we met at the office, though I'm bound to say I wasn't tickled to death with the prospect of what was ahead.

"Mark," says I, "here we're goin' out to Center Line Bridge to meddle with somethin' that don't concern us. It 'u'd serve us right if this Man With the Black Gloves caught us and gave us the larrupin' of our lives."

"'Tis our b-business," says Mark. "Anythin' that's suspicious is the business of a newspaper man. There's news in it.... And b-besides I figger it's our duty to do."

When Mark Tidd starts talking about duty you might as well lay down and roll 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 it but us, b-because n.o.body 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 with him. Sometimes he gets it into his head to be mysterious and to keep his notions shut up under his hat. Well, when he does you might as well forget them, for he's as close-mouthed as a bulldog with a tramp's pants in 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 a quarter of a mile of it Mark halted us.

"We can't go bangin' up t-t-there with a bra.s.s b-band," says he. "There wouldn'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 I f-figgered you wouldn't want to miss anythin'."

"I don't," says I, "not even a good lickin', which most likely we'll git. You hain't got any idea, Mark," says I, "how I love a good lickin'."

He laughed and says, "Say, Binney, anybody'd think you was a million years old. Hain't there any f-f-fun in you? Here's a reg'lar game to p-play that beats any game you can think up, and we can add to it by p-pretendin'." He was the greatest fellow for pretending I ever saw, and when he was at it he almost had you believing that what he _made believe_ 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 a young Duke. This young Duke has disappeared, and we kind of figger his enemy, the Knight With the Black Gauntlets, has captured him and is holdin' him for r-ransom. See? But we don't know where. But our scouts tell us the Knight With the Black Gauntlets is close to our castle and we set out to watch him to see if we can't rescue the Duke-and here we be. We know our enemy's ahead somewheres, and we want to git clost to him to watch him and overhear what he s-says, if he says anythin'. Most likely the Duke will make us all knights if we rescue him, and I've always sort of hankered to be a knight."

"Me too," says Plunk. "Them knights sure had a circus, ridin' around with lances and bustin' up tournaments and lickin' everybody they met by slammin' 'em over the head with an iron mallet or pokin' 'em off a horse with 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 got much in common."

"'Tain't Cur," says Mark, "though it _does_ s-sound like it. You spell it 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 have known better, in the first place, than to go fooling with a scheme of Mark'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 bridge that crosses the river dividin' his lands from ourn. Maybe there'll be a m-messenger a-waitin' there for him. It's our business to hear what's said, because a word may be d-dropped that'll show us where he's imprisoned our master, the Duke."

"How'll we manage it?" says Tallow.

"Divide up," says Mark. "You two men-at-arms, Tallow and Plunk, sneak over and come to the b-bridge from the left side of the road. There's thick alders growin' right there and you can scrooch down in 'em. Binney and I will t-tackle the job from the right. Then, if one p-party's discovered and s-slain, the other party's got a chance to come through alive 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 Plunk cutting off through the woods to the left.

"We want to get there g-good and early," says Mark, "so as to get all p-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 can make my legs go faster."

So off we went, for a while going as fast as we could plug, then, when we were getting so near that a man on the bridge might hear us, Mark made 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 and getting 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 to worrying about the young Duke that was held a captive. Yes, sir, I felt pretty bad about the hole he had got himself into, and says to Mark I hoped they gave him enough to eat and treated him decent.

That's how persuading Mark is. He really gets you to think things are happening that he's only pretending about.

Anyhow, we got to the bridge, or rather so close to it we could look it over 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 be in ambush along the road. We got to f-find out."

We kept on crawling until we were sure n.o.body was on our side of the bridge anywheres. Then Mark made us wade the river, which was only about up to our knees in spots, to be sure n.o.body was hid on the other side.