IN THE DEAD OF THE NIGHT
About two o’clock in the morning Pee-wee awoke and was conscious of the
sound outside the house; a low, steady sound, as if someone might be
tossing earth over. For a few moments he was puzzled as to what it was,
then he decided that it sounded like digging.
He arose, crept to the window and looked out. In the grove at the edge
of the lawn was a dark figure. It was moving up and down. As Pee-wee
stared he could see a bright gleam now and then—the gleam of a shovel.
While he looked the figure ceased, and Pee-wee trembled. Then the figure
crept toward the house, paused as if listening, then returned to its
work in the grove.
This was a strange business to be prosecuted with such apparent stealth
in the dead of night. It was not so bad for a slow, dull, poky place
like Skimper’s. It seemed very much like Captain Kidd down there.
Perhaps someone was burying a murdered victim. Pee-wee was much agitated
and very curious. Again the figure crept toward the house as if to make
certain that all was still there. Something of a very sinister nature
was evidently going on.
Pee-wee tiptoed across the hall to the room of his friends and tapped on
the door. They did not hear and he crept in.
“Get up,” he whispered, shaking the slumbering Fuller; “get up, there’s
a dark figure digging in the grove and he’s doing it in secret. Come and
see for yourself. Gee whiz, something serious is happening. Come and
look for yourselves.”
“You’re seeing things,” Ray said drowsily.
“All right, you come and see,” Pee-wee said.
They followed him to his window and looked out.
“He’s digging for bait,” whispered Ray.
“What makes him so afraid then?” Pee-wee whispered.
“Guess you’re right, Scout,” whispered Fuller.
“Let’s sneak down; what do you say? Looks as if there might be something
doing on the old plantation, huh?”
Pee-wee felt a little ashamed. Here, sure enough, was something in the
nature of an adventure, and he suffered a little touch of remorse that
he had thought and hinted about returning to the farm. He could not help
admiring these two young fellows for their cheery habit of taking
everything as it came. It made him feel just a little silly that he had
dreamed of going miles away to some outlandish, unpeopled spot, in quest
of adventure. Perhaps these two young fellows were not so crazy after
all....
“Just the thing, huh?” whispered Fuller.
“Looks pretty good to me,” whispered Ray.
One would have thought they were inspecting something with a view to
buying it.
“May turn out to be a sort of job lot adventure after all, Ray,” said
Fuller. “I haven’t had much experience in pirate stuff. Maybe he’s
burying the fortune that he squeezed out of summer boarders.”
“What do you mean, job lot adventure?” Pee-wee demanded. “It’s a _real_
adventure. Don’t you know a mystery when you see one? Adventures—they
can happen _anywhere_.”
“Too bad you have to go home in the morning,” whispered Ray.
“Are we going to solve it?” Pee-wee demanded darkly. “Are we going to
foil him?”
“Shall we foil him, Ray?” queried Fuller.
“It’s up to you, Fuller,” said Ray.
“Well then, I tell you what we’ll do,” Fuller said, as they left the
window. “We’ll get dressed—”
“Good idea,” said Ray.
“And I’ll stroll down and ask him what he’s doing, and you come along
while I’m talking to him. Scout, you’d better go back to bed so you can
make an early start in the morning.”
“A—eh—a—what d’you mean—a scout is supposed to be helpful,” stammered
Pee-wee.
“I know,” said Ray, “but this is only a thirty-one cent adventure. It’s
really too cheap for you, Scout.”
“A scout—a scout—he’s supposed to be thrifty,” Pee-wee breathed
excitedly; “he’s supposed to be economical. Thirty-one cent adventures
are all right. What—what’s the use of wasting money?”
“He may be right at that,” said Ray reasonably.
“Oh, absolutely,” said Fuller.