Mark Tidd, Editor Part 7

"Sure," says I, "but what else did you want to figger on?"

"The Wigglesworth business," says he. "I wanted to p-p-puzzle out what's goin' on, and I wanted to s-sneak out and see that boy and t-talk to him. I bet he knows things Lawyer Jones didn't get out of him. Boys don't always tell men all they know.... Well, I'll just have to f-f-find time to do both."

"We'll help all we can," says I. "Maybe we'll be _some_ good."

"Now don't go gettin' sore," says Mark. "I hain't ever slighted you yet, have I? Eh? When anythin' was g-goin' on you got plenty to do, didn't you?"

"Yes," says I.

"Well," says he, "more l-likely you'll get more 'n you want to do this time.... I do wisht I could figger out where that boy comes in. Rock's his name. What's he got to do with Henry Wigglesworth? Why didn't Mr.

Wigglesworth speak to him at all? Remember Lawyer Jones said he didn't.

Then what m-m-made Mr. Wigglesworth come s-sneakin' in at night to look at him? That's the hardest of all. He could see the b-boy all day. What for did he want to be p-p-prowlin' in with a lamp to look at him at night? It's all mixed up. But you can bet there's s-somethin' behind it all that'll m-make a dandy newspaper story when we get to the b-b-bottom of it."

"Maybe we won't," says I.

He turned on me quick. "We will," says he, "or bust."

"Huh!" says I. "We can't always come out on top."

"We can always if we t-t-try hard enough. The reason some folks is always f-f-failin' is because they don't think hard enough and work hard enough. Laziness makes more f-f-failures than bad luck."

"Maybe," says I, "but this looks like it was too tough a job for just kids."

"Wait and see," says he.

"I'll help you," says I.

Lots of fellows would have told me to mind my own business, or maybe laughed at me and said I wasn't smart enough to help, but not Mark.

"All right," says he, "two heads is b-better than a sack of meal. What I m-miss you may see, and what you don't catch on to may stick out plain to me. Let's get at it."

CHAPTER IV

The first thing that happened was the coming of the Man With the Black Gloves. All of a sudden we looked up and there he was standing in the door, squinting at us with his disagreeable eyes. You haven't any idea how quiet he'd come. One second he wasn't there; the next second there he was, and no fuss about it at all.

"Howdy!" says Mark.

"Proprietor in?" says the man, chopping off his words like he hated to use them at all.

"I'm one of t-them," says Mark. "What can I do for you?"

"Liner ad. How much?" He didn't throw in one extra word for good measure. After he was gone Mark says he bet he was stingy as anything.

He said he guessed so because he hated to give away the cheapest thing in the world-which is talk.

"Cent a word," says Mark.

The Man With the Black Gloves poked out a paper to Mark and says, "Head it 'Personal.'" Then he pa.s.sed over a quarter and Mark counted the words and gave back the change. The man turned and went out as quiet as he came, not even nodding good-by.

Mark stood looking after him, and when he was out of ear-shot he turned to me and said almost in a whisper, "Binney, l-l-look here!"

Something in his voice made me come quick. I took the paper out of his hand and read what was written on it. It said:

Jethro: On deck. Report. Center Line Bridge. Eight. G. G. G.

"Funny kind of an ad.," says I.

"F-f-funny kind of a man," says Mark. "What d'you make of it?"

"Nothin'," says I.

"He's up to somethin'," says Mark.

"Huh!" says I. "Haven't we got work enough and mysteries enough on hand without goin' out of our way to find another?"

"But," says Mark, "this is _s-s-suspicious_."

"What of it?" says I.

"Looks to me," says he, "like it was our d-duty as newspaper men to l-l-look into it. May be for the good of the community."

"Rats!" says I.

"He hain't plannin' no good," says Mark.

"Likely he hain't," says I, "but what business is it of ours?"

"Everything is a newspaper man's b-business," says Mark, "even things that hain't none of his b-business."

"That sounds crazy," says I.

"Anyhow," says he, "I'm goin' to f-f-find out what's the meanin' of this ad."

"Go ahead," says I, "and if you get into trouble don't ask _me_ to pull you out."

Mark looked at me and grinned, and I grinned back, for it _was_ funny.

Usually the one to get folks out of trouble wasn't me. I was better at getting them into it. But Mark, why, he made a sort of business of jerking us out of sc.r.a.pes we got into!

"Why," says I, "would a man put in an ad. like that? Why doesn't he go tell this Jethro instead of puttin' it in the paper?"

"One reason," says Mark, "is because he d-d-don't want to be seen near where this Jethro is stayin'."

That did sound reasonable.

"Yes," says Mark, tugging at his ear. "Jethro's expectin' this feller.