But for just about a couple of seconds, Pee-wee didn’t budge. Gee, I
couldn’t blame him.
“Look at Grove’s light up there,” I said.
Away up on the road we could see the fire good and plain, and even
something dark moving near it.
“Shall I call to him?” I asked.
“No, don’t,” Harry said. I guess it was just because he didn’t exactly
want us to be shouting with that thing lying so near us. Anyway, we kind
of spoke in whispers—I don’t know why.
I said, “Well, you can see for yourself now that no one could fall as
far out from the cliff as this. Grove’s fire is right near the edge,
isn’t it? Look where that fire is and look where we are.”
“It’s blamed funny there aren’t any footprints,” Harry said; “he’s right
in the trail.”
“It’s a mystery like I told you,” Pee-wee whispered. As we moved nearer
I could see how Skinny was clinging tight to Harry.
When we got near the rocks, Pee-wee seemed to get his nerve back—most
always that’s the way it is with scouts. Anyway, he has plenty
now—that’s one thing.
He was quite a little distance ahead of us and I saw him lean down and
hold his torch over that body. Then, all of a sudden, he set up a shout
that took me off my feet.
“_I’ve solved the mystery! I’ve solved the mystery!_” he yelled.
Harry said, “Shh, speak easy. Isn’t he dead?”
“He—he—isn’t even _alive_—I mean he wasn’t!” our young hero shouted.
“Look at him! Feel of him! The mystery is solved!”
It was solved, all right. Pee-wee grabbed hold of one of those sprawling
legs and hauled that body out from between the rocks. The way he handled
it, I’d say it weighed about five or six pounds. It was just a rag
dummy.
We stuck our torches into the earth and sat down on one of those big
rocks and had a good laugh.
“You thought it was _me_,” our young hero shouted; “you thought it was
_me_——”
“You mean _I_, not _me_,” Harry told him; “we realize now our
mistake—that we should ever have mistaken one with a tongue like yours
for a dummy. The plot certainly grows thicker; I never expected to find
a rag soldier.”
“Anyway, we’ve had a good time,” Pee-wee said.
“Rag-time, I should say,” Harry said; “but what is the meaning of this
dark and dismal mystery? Why this rag-time dough-boy?”
“Search _me_,” I said, “it has _me_ guessing.”
“That shows how much you all know,” Pee-wee yelled; “that shows how much
what-d’ye-call-it you have—deduction. This is where those movie men were
making their play and that rag dummy got hurled off the cliff in a
jealous rage, just the same the school teacher in _The Cowboy’s
Revenge_!”
“A jealous rage, hey?” Harry said.
“Sure,” the kid said; “wasn’t one of those movie men in Utica dressed
like a soldier? That was the one that was supposed to be thrown off the
cliff; that one is this one—see?”
Harry just sat there, whistling. Then he said, “I guess you’re right,
kid. They chucked him out too far. It was easy, because he didn’t weigh
anything. This is the climax of a terrible tragedy.”
“I—I bet it’s a dandy play,” Pee-wee said; “I’m going to see it when it
comes out.”
“Too bad it can’t end with a picture of boy scouts on the trail of a rag
dummy. The play might be called _The Ragtime Scouts_,” Harry said.
I said, “Yes, and who was the first one to say that was Pee-wee.”
“Guilty,” Harry said; “but yet I was right; I said there was no life in
that figure, and there isn’t. Shall we take our friend along with us? It
seems kind of cruel to leave him here at the mercy of wind and storm.”
“Sure, take him,” I said; “we’ll put him in the Raven Patrol; they’re a
lot of dead ones.”
Harry slung Mr. Ragtime (that’s what we called him) over his shoulder
and we started back along the trail. On account of being wet, that dummy
was heavier and it hung limp and looked even more like a real soldier
than it did before, I guess. It seemed awful funny for Harry to be
marching along ahead of us with that thing over his shoulder.
That trail ran along close under the cliff and showed us an easy way up.
Pretty soon we hit into the road and passed the place where we had
supposed Pee-wee had fallen, and then came to the auto. Grove had the
fire burning on the edge of the road right near the car, and he was
sitting there keeping warm when we came along.
Harry said, “We’ve brought with us one of the most famous movie stars,
the Hon. Ragtime Sandbanks; allow us to introduce him. He’s full of
stuff that isn’t worth anything, like most movie plays. Just the kind of
hero that you kids are fond of clapping your hands at. If they’d only
take a few more of those celebrated movie stars and chuck them off a
cliff, it would be a good thing. Well, Grove, old boy, you been lonesome
waiting? Here old Ragtime, dry your clothes out if you want to ride with
us.”
“How are we going to ride without any juice?[1]” Grove wanted to know.
“We’re not,” Harry said; “who wants to volunteer to go to Lurin? That’s
the nearest town, I think. Take the old battery in and see if you can
get another one. I don’t see there’s anything else we can do.”
-----
[1] Electricity.