Part 36 (2/2)
Tallow and Plunk went off to the other side of the house like Mark told them. I wished I could have watched the row, because I'll bet it would have been a bully sc.r.a.p. The way the fellows looked when we saw them again made me sure of it. Both of 'em looked as if they'd been in a boiler explosion that had blown them into the middle of a cyclone mixed up with an earthquake. It was just my luck.
Mark and Rock and I waited till we heard Plunk shout as loud as he could, ”You did say it, too. I heard you. What you mean talkin' about me like that?”
Tallow yelled right back at him, ”I calc'late I kin say what I want to, and if you don't like it you can lump it.”
”I've a notion,” says Plunk, ”to hit you so hard your head'll bust like a bad egg.”
”Hit ahead,” says Tallow. ”I dare you to. You da.s.sent. You couldn't bust an egg any-how-not if you _jumped_ on it. Looky here. Here's a chip on my shoulder. You da.s.sent knock it off. Jest touch it with your finger, that's all. Jest brush it off, if you're lookin' to go to the hospital.”
”I'll knock it off,” says Plunk. ”You bet I will. Have I got to chase you all over the yard to do it? Huh! Jest gimme one _lick_ at you, and that'll be all-just one good lick.... There goes your old chip.”
_Spang!_ Tallow swatted at him, and in a second they were at it. Usually when a fellow gets to fighting in earnest he's too busy with his fists to have much time for hollering, but the way Tallow and Plunk yelled and dared each other was a caution. I don't see how they managed it.
”Good kids,” says Mark. ”L-l-listen to 'em. That ought to fetch Jethro.”
It did. In a minute out came Jethro to see what the racket was about, and as soon as he came, the three of us slid in the side door. You bet we were pretty spry about it. Rock knew the way, and he hustled some. We stuck right to his heels. We almost jumped to the top of the first flight of stairs, and would have jumped the next but our wind was getting short. Rock stopped at the bottom of that flight.
”Cough,” says Mark, ”if Jethro comes this way.”
”All right,” panted Rock, and up we went.
All the doors on that floor were shut, but we knew Pekoe's door must be on the left side of the hall and three or four doors from the back of the house. Mark tried the fourth door, rapping on it three times soft, and then three times again.
”Who's there?” says a voice.
”Are you Mr. Pekoe?” says Mark.
”Yes. Who are you?”
”Friends of Rock's. We haven't much time. Got Jethro out of the w-w-way for a minute and sneaked up. We're helpin' Rock. There's some kind of a mystery about him, and we're solvin' it. We got to know what _you_ know.”
”Don't go too fast, young feller,” says Pekoe. ”I don't know you yet, and I hain't talkin' to anybody that inquires. Maybe you was sent by the feller that shut me up here.”
”We weren't. Rock's with us. He's standin' at the f-f-foot of the stairs, watchin'. It was us that s-s-shot at your window yesterday, and it was me that t-t-talked deaf and dumb with you.”
”Oh,” says Pekoe. ”What do you want to know? Why don't you let me out first?”
”We can't,” says Mark. ”Why don't you get out?”
”I'm no sparrow,” says Pekoe. ”It's three stories down and them blinds is nailed. I can't bust open the door. That Jethro didn't leave a thing in the room I could use to bust it down. There hain't a chair or a bed in here. Nothin' but a mattress and some quilts. What kin a feller do with them?”
”Not much,” says Mark. ”And we can't do anythin' now. But we'll git you out. Rock's the m-m-main consideration now. You f-fetched him here?”
”Yes.”
”Why?”
”I got a letter from his father tellin' me to git him at the school he was at and fetch him here.”
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