I was obliged to be indefinite, for I was guarding that little secret
between her and myself as my most precious treasure.
As I remember it, I put it to the gang this way: “We ought to behave
ourselves and protect the good name of the town.” They laughed at me and
asked me if I had joined Judge Kingsley’s Sunday-school class.
I knew they didn’t suspect the truth, nevertheless that dig nearly
put me out of countenance on account of the secret I was cherishing. I
blushed and stammered and I lost my grip then and there as a leader--and
it was the same old story--it was on account of a girl. A girl does
rattle the gear of man-business!
One of the fellows remarked that I was getting almighty pious after I
had used them to clean up my own dirty job. He said the most of them
had matters of their own which needed attention, and wanted to know if I
proposed to sneak out on them after all the help they had given me.
I told them that I had thought the thing over carefully and had decided
that what we had done to Mr. Bird was not right or lawful and we’d
better make no more mistakes.
“Then perhaps you want us to correct that mistake and make up a bee and
carry the furniture back to the old cuss,” suggested one of the Sortwell
boys.
When I failed to welcome that notion they turned on me in good earnest,
and in my own heart I had to admit, looking on the surface of the thing,
that they had good reason for thinking that I was both selfish and
ungrateful.
In the Sixth Reader, at school, I had found the story of Frankenstein’s
monster. I saw that in organizing the Skokums I had built a lively
little monster of my own.
“I have a special and a private reason for asking you to quit and be
good, boys,” I told them.
“A member who keeps his private and special reasons to himself and
doesn’t trust the rest of us isn’t much of a help in time of trouble,”
said Ben Pratt. “I have never taken a whole lot of stock in you, Ross
Sidney, and now I take less than ever before.”
From remarks which were dropped I gathered that the rest of them held
similar sentiments.
“They’re going to have a detective in here,” I told them.
“Who said so?”
But that was Celene Kingsley’s secret.
I had hoped that the threat might scare them. It had just the opposite
effect; the boys of Levant had never seen a detective, but they had
read every five-cent thriller on the subject. To be the object of a real
detective’s attention seemed like glorious adventure--and they were sure
that they were, when on their own prowling-grounds, match for any sleuth
who ever dodged behind trees.
But I had stood up before her and had beaten fist upon my breast and had
assured her that she could trust all to me. What sort of a knight was I
to wear lady’s favor and then fail to do and dare in her behalf?
“I had hoped that you knew me better and that I stood higher with you
fellows,” I said. “I’ll admit that you did a big job for me, and I am
grateful. But you all had your fun out of it, for you have said so, over
and over. You’ll have to admit something, yourselves; you’ll have to own
up that we are ashamed of what we did to poor old Bangs. If you keep on
you’ll do other things to be ashamed of. I’m advising you to stop.”
“We don’t want your advice,” said Ben.
“Then you’ll get something from me which you’ll like a blamed sight less
than advice.”
Plainly they were hungry for information.
“What’ll that be?” asked one of the Sortwell boys.
“Try on any more of your doodle-busting in this town and you’ll find
out,” I said. Then I left them and went home.
Some bright chap has made a simile about having as much privacy as a
goldfish. At any rate, by leading an open life, one may be in a position
to prove an alibi.