A REVELATION
As Pee-wee turned from the mail slot he saw Warde and Roy gazing at a
very antiquated bulletin board such as one seldom sees elsewhere than in
a country post office.
These ancient bulletin boards bespeak the country as eloquently as do
the hayfields. They seem never to be new. Articles lost but long since
restored to their owners are still advertised on faded brittle paper,
fastened by rusted thumb tacks of a bygone age. Strawberry festivals,
with strawberries that have gone the way of all strawberries, are here
announced. Auction sales and Red Cross drives long ended here proclaim
themselves like ghosts out of the dead past. Letters waiting patiently
for people whose names are on tombstones are here listed.
Pee-wee pressed his way between Warde and Roy and gazed at a notice by
no means new which, partly overlapped by later notices, had caught the
eyes of his two friends:
WANTED FOR MURDER FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS
REWARD WILL BE PAID BY THE POLICE OF QUEBEC, CANADA, FOR
INFORMATION LEADING TO THE ARREST AND CONVICTION OF CLAUDE
DARRELL, ALIAS DARROW, ALIAS HICKEY JOE, ETC., ETC. WANTED FOR
BURGLARY AND HOMICIDE.
Was last seen in New York, where he tried to enlist for military
service. Hair brown and straight. Complexion dark. Eyes gray.
Height 5 feet 10-1/2 inches. Weight about 140 pounds. Teeth
white and even. May seek work as gasfitter. When last seen wore
a gray suit with double-breasted vest. Walks slightly sideways.
But it was not the reading matter on this notice which riveted the
attention of the scouts and for a few moments held them speechless. Two
pictures, one a front face, the other a profile, were there shown.
"What--" Pee-wee began, anxiously, hesitatingly, as if he dared not say
what was in his mind.
"Yep," said Warde, with a kind of cold resolve, as if one of them must
express their common thought; "it's him--it's Blythe."
Still neither Roy nor Pee-wee spoke, only stood there, gazing
steadfastly at the pictures. The eyes in the full face picture were
looking straight at them. There was the least suggestion of a smile on
the mouth. It seemed as if Blythe might be saying in that simple,
pleased way of his, "Congratulations, now you're a regular scout." Warde
averted his gaze. He felt almost sickened. Then he looked at the
pictures again, steadily, intensely.... He seemed only half conscious of
Roy saying, "I'm going to ask the postmaster how long that's been
there."
Then suddenly Roy felt the authority of his new scout, subordinate
though that scout was. He felt Warde's hand detaining him. "Ask him
nothing," he heard Warde say; "stay where you are." Pee-wee felt this
calm authority, too. Or rather this influence of one who is well poised
and thoughtful.
And still, with spirits drooping, with the whole foundation of their
happiness rudely knocked from under them as it seemed, they stood gazing
at these pictures of their friend. This murderer. Here was another
murder to add to that former one in Canada. The murder of all their
hopes and plans.... The killing of a friendship.
They heard the man behind the lock-boxes come through the little gate.
They heard the gate swing shut. They felt a presence near them.
"Well, what do you find to interest you, boys?" they heard a drawling
voice ask.
"We were--we were just wishing that we had been at the strawberry
festival--the one a year ago last June," replied Warde Hollister.