"When--when are they--coming?" he asked. "I reckon to--morrow, boy. Now, you look here--."

But Pee-wee had gone.

Up the narrow, boxed-in stairs he went, never asking permission. He could see nothing but a big enclosed wagon, dark inside, with Pepsy inside it. He had no more idea what he was going to do that day than the man in the moon. But he knew what he was going to do that very minute.

When a scout makes up his mind to do a thing. ...

Into the little room under the eaves he strode, his eyes glistening, but his heart staunch and his resolve indomitable. And she smiled when she saw him. She was sitting up and she looked ever so little in her nightclothes and ever so plain with her tightly braided red hair. But her eyes were clear and she smiled when she looked at him. ...

"I won't tell anybody where I went," she said, "because I was a smarty and I thought I could make somebody do a good turn ever so--ever so big.

And they'd only laugh at me if I told them what it was. So I'm not going to be a tell-tale cat."

"Pep," he said, "it shows that you're right because lots and lots of automobiles are coming along our road since the old bridge burned down and it's a detour and that means hundreds and hundreds of them have to go past our refreshment place and we're going to make lots of money.

And I thought of a dandy idea, it's what they call an inspiration. We're going to name the place Pepsy Rest, because Pepsy will remind people to buy chewing gum, because that has pepsin in it and as soon as you're all well we'll start in and keep on being partners, because we have a monopoly. Do you know what that is? It's when you can sell all you want of something and n.o.body else can sell it. ...

"Mr. Jensen, he put up a sign, and he said no one should sell things on his property and he owns all the property along the road, and you bet everybody is scared of him. So now we're going to have a great big business and we began as poor boys, I mean girls, I mean a boy and a girl. So don't you believe anything that anybody tells you, not even--not even Aunt Jamsiah. Because you know how I told you I was a good fixer and I'm always lucky, you have to admit that."

"Can I be the one to count the money?" Pepsy asked.

"Sure, and I'll be the one to eat what's left of the things that won't keep," said Pee-wee. "Only don't you worry no matter what you hear--"

She was on the point of telling him how Mr. Jensen had done his good turn after all, and all about what she remembered of the previous night.

But she decided that she was not going to have a boy laughing at her and put it within his power to call her a tell-tale cat some day. So instead she threw her arms around him and said, "Oh goody, goody!"

You know how girls do.

CHAPTER x.x.xII

THE CLEW

Pee-wee never knew until now how much he cared about his little companion of the summer and how little he cared about their roadside enterprise except so far as she was concerned in it. All morning the almost continuous procession pa.s.sed along the road reviewed by a gaping a.s.semblage on the platform in front of the post office. Many motorists who read the enticing promises along the way paused for refreshment only to find the little rustic shelter bare and deserted.

But they were not the only ones to be disappointed. Upon the front porch of Doctor Killem's house there sat in a wheel chair the queerest little figure ever seen outside of a soup advertis.e.m.e.nt. He was of the kewpie type, all head and eyes, and he had a kind of ridiculous air of stern authority about him as he sat all bundled up in blankets soberly reviewing the pa.s.sing cars. So odd and gnomelike was he that he might have stepped out of the pages of "Alice in Wonderland." He would have made a good radiator ornament on an automobile.

This, you will know, was little Whitie Bungel, who seemed not at all disconcerted at being elsewhere than in his own home. He had been moved about so much without any exertion on his own part that he was quite at home anywhere.

Though Pee-wee had spoken in high hope to Pepsy about their unexpected and glowing prospects, he was haunted by thoughts of the terrible thing which was to happen on the morrow. Pepsy was to be taken away, back to the big brick building which she hated, just as the planks of the old bridge had foretold;

Pee-wee's loyalty was so staunch that he did not even consider the things his aunt had said. He was going to save Pepsy from that place and make her the sharer of the fortune that was within their grasp. He made this resolve with the same generous impulse as that which had caused him to put two hundred and fifty dollars within the reach of Mr. Bungel who had boxed his ears.

"I'm lucky," he said to himself as he trudged down to the post office; "I'll fix things all right. I'll show them; I don't care, I'll show them. They won't take her back to that place, not while I'm around."

He did not know how he was going to prevent this but he had unbounded faith in his capacity to fix things and in his good luck.

So, as he trudged along, stepping out of the way of many cars, he came to the home of Doctor Killem.

"h.e.l.lo, soldier," piped up a little thin voice upon the porch.

"I'm not a soldier," said Pee-wee.

"My father can arrest people," said the little gnome, looking straight ahead of him.

"That doesn't prove I'm a soldier," said Pee-wee.

"You've got a uniform," said the gnome. "I'm not afraid of soldiers. My father's got a lot of money, he's got two hundred and fifty dollars and I'm not going to get dead."

"Where's your father?" Pee-wee asked.

"He's up the road and he's going to catch people and put them in jail."

"Is he?"

"Why do you say 'Is he?' I didn't go to the hospital last night. Do you want to know why?" He asked questions as if they were riddles.

"Yes, why?" Pee-wee asked, half interested.

"Because the bridge burned down. Do you like bridges?"

"It isn't a question of whether a person likes them or not," Pee-wee said; preoccupied with his own sorrow and worry, yet amused in spite of himself at this queer little fellow.

"Yes it is," said Whitie Bungel.

"All right then, it is," said Pee-wee.

"Why did you say it wasn't?"

"Oh, I don't know, I guess I was thinking of something else."

"What were you thinking of?"

"Oh, I don't know--nothing."

"Why did you say you were?"

"You didn't tell me about why you didn't go to the hospital last night."

"I can see things that other folks can't see," Whitie announced.

"You're like Licorice Stick," said Pee-wee.

"He's black," Whitie said.

"I know he is."

"Then how am I like him? I'm white. My name is Whitie."

Pee-wee felt like a prisoner at the bar of justice with this little personage swathed in blankets, staring down at him. His wrappings covered his neck and all that could be seen of him was his face, perfectly motionless. Finally he said as if he were p.r.o.nouncing sentence.