"I won't mind it! But one of you Whitneys will wish you'd minded
yourselves when Jeff and me find out who killed my pop!"
"We will?"
"Yes, you will! And me and Jeff are on the track."
"You be?"
Jeff's image came to stand beside Dan, so that he no longer felt small,
alone and so terribly frightened. With his friend beside him, he could
do anything. "Ha!" he exploded. "You think Jeff's a peddler, but he's
not." Dan cast desperately for an apt description and thought of the
most awesome image his mind could conjure up. "He's a policeman. A real
policeman. Now he's gone into Ackerton for more policemen, and soon's he
gets some, they'll get every one of you darned Whitneys. You wait!
You'll be sorry, Jeff said so!"
"So-o," Barr Whitney purred. "So-o."
"Aren't you--Aren't you going to do anything to me?"
"Can't think of ary I'd do, 'cept mebbe string you on the hook an' use
you for bait."
No longer interested in fishing, Barr Whitney splashed back across the
creek and disappeared in the forest. Immensely gratified, Dan watched
him go.
He'd told those Whitneys.
* * * * *
Except that the fluffy kitten did not like the bird cage and expressed
his dislike with frequent far-carrying "_miaouws_" that attracted the
attention of everyone else in the day coach, Jeff's trip from Ackerton
to Delview was almost routine. It was not entirely so because twice the
conductor threatened either to take the kitten into the baggage car or
throw Jeff and his luggage off the train. Both times a chorus of dissent
rose from the six other passengers in the car. The train did not make as
many stops as the one from Delview to Ackerton had, but it was equally
slow and the kitten provided diversion.
When they finally reached Delview, the kitten stood erect and glared at
everything in sight. Obviously he was a creature of great character and
he would fit in perfectly on Granny's hill.
Pack on his back and the caged kitten dangling from his right hand, Jeff
strode down Delview's main street. He had decided, as he usually did, to
guide himself by whatever circumstances seemed to require. If he felt
too tired, he would put up at one of Delview's two hotels overnight. But
the events of the day, particularly his astounding success with Granny's
tapestries, had roused him to a pitch of enthusiasm so high that he was
not at all tired. The star-lighted night was ideal for walking and Jeff
made up his mind to go right through to Smithville. He should get there
some time in the early morning hours. He was anxious to see Dan again
and to watch Granny's eyes when he told her what he had done with her
tapestries.
He was hungry, but the first café he entered was one of Delview's
exclusive eating places and the late diners who still lingered there
stared in horror at the caged kitten. A waiter asked him to leave, and
Jeff did not feel like arguing the point. The second café, not so
pretentious and presided over by a fat man with a completely bald head
and a clean apron, was less particular. Jeff laid his pack down, put the
cage on a chair and ordered,
"Steak, fried potatoes and coffee. Heavy on all three and a saucer of
milk for the kitten."
"Sure, bud, sure."
The fat man poked a pudgy finger at the kitten, who crouched in the cage
and evidently imagined himself unseen. He sprang suddenly, and when he
leaped against the cage's door, it burst open. The kitten slithered
through, jumped to the table, gave everything in the restaurant a
haughty look, scrambled to Jeff's shoulder and began to purr
contentedly.
"Cute lil' feller!" the fat man said admiringly. "Why do you keep him
caged?"
Jeff saw opportunity. The cage had been only a means for getting the
kitten from Ackerton to Granny's. But if the kitten preferred Jeff's
shoulder, he was welcome to ride there. The fat man was obviously
interested in the cage.
"Usually I don't," Jeff admitted. "I got the cage to bring him through
from Ackerton." He added, as though it were an afterthought, "Darn'
thing cost me two dollars."
"_Hmm._ Need the cage any more?"
"I don't know."
"My wife's been lookin' for such. She keeps birds. What'll you take for
it?"
Jeff forsook bargaining. His pack was full, and since the kitten seemed
happy on his shoulder, he did not want to carry the cage to Smithville.
"Swap for the dinner."
"It's a swap."
The fat man, who apparently was also the cook, went into the kitchen. He
came back with a platter containing a huge steak and an ample supply of
potatoes. He also had a mug of coffee that held at least a pint. The
kitten scrambled from Jeff's shoulder to the table top, turned up his
nose at the saucer of milk placed before him, and looked appealingly at
Jeff's steak.
Jeff grinned. This kitten knew what he wanted and was willing to try for
it. Jeff fed him a small piece of steak, then another, and a third. Only
when Jeff firmly refused to give him any more did he turn and lap up
every bit of the milk. When it was time to go, he climbed back on Jeff's
shoulder and pressed his naked nose and pads against his friend's neck,
where they would stay warm.
Jeff walked swiftly through the cool night, stopping every hour or so to
rest. He enjoyed every second of it.
Dawn was faint in the sky when they came to Smithville, and rising and
stretching on Jeff's shoulder, the kitten greeted it with a hearty
_miaouw_.
"Who's there?" It was the constable, Bill Ellis.
"Jeff Tarrant," Jeff called.
"I've been waiting for you."
Even though the constable was only half-seen, there was about him a
great hesitation that was mingled with a certain furtiveness as he came
through the darkness. Jeff waited, more than a little surprised.