Mark Tidd, Editor

by Clarence Budington Kelland

  CHAPTER XIII

  The first thing we did when we got home was to hunt up Plunk and Tallowto find out if anything had been heard of Rock, but he was still just asmissing as ever--and even more so.

  "Well," says Mark, "we got to f-find him, and find him quick. We needhim in our business and he needs us in hisn."

  "You hain't goin' to give him up to Jethro like you said--honest, areyou?"

  "You b-b-bet I am," says Mark, and there was an end to that.

  "To-morrow mornin'," says he, "you f-f-fellows be at my house at fiveo'clock, and we'll git after him. I got an idee," says he.

  "Five o'clock," says I. "What's the use of goin' to bed at all?"

  Mark he sort of grinned and says: "This Rock business is a sort ofs-s-side issue with us. What we're doin' for a livin' is run anewspaper--and we got to give consid'able time to it."

  That was Mark Tidd all over. Business was first. He could tend tobusiness more and harder than any kid I ever heard of.

  Next morning we were on hand when Mark said, and off we started towardthe place where we lost track of Rock. Mark was as sure as ever he wassome place close around. "Bet I can p-prove it pretty quick," says he,"and after I've proved it I bet I can go straight to where he's asleepthis minute."

  "Shucks!" says I.

  "Will you eat a r-rotten apple if I can't?" says Mark.

  Well, I knew him pretty well, and when he talked like that he was prettysure he knew what he was talking about, so I sort of backed down as easyas I could. He didn't say anything, but just grinned aggravating.

  There was just one farm out that way, and Mark headed us in the yard andaround to the barn, where Mr. Soggs was milking.

  "'Mornin', Mr. Soggs," says he.

  "Up kinder early, hain't ye?" says Mr. Soggs.

  "Ketchin' worms," says Mark. "Say, Mr. Soggs, been missin' anythin'around here l-l-lately?"

  "How'd you know?" says Soggs. "You boys hain't campin' out around here,be ye? 'Cause if ye be, and it's you that's been a-pesterin' my wife,stealin' pies off n the winder-sill and sich, I'll have the law on ye."

  "Not guilty," says Mark. "What was stolen?"

  "A hull apple pie 'n' a hunk of ham 'n' half a loaf of bread."

  "Too bad," says Mark, but I could see a twinkle in those little eyes ofhis. "Hope it didn't spoil your meal, Mr. Soggs."

  "I managed," says Soggs, "I managed."

  "To be sure," says Mark. "Well, we'll be movin' on. G'by, Mr. Soggs."

  "G'by to ye," says he, and off we went.

  "There," says Mark when we were out of hearing. "Now what you got tosay?"

  "Same's ever," says I. "What's a missin' pie got to do with Rock?"

  "Rock et that pie," says Mark.

  "Fiddle-de-dee," says I, but I wasn't so sure about it. Mark he acted so_certain_.

  "Now," says he, "we'll go and g-get him."

  He started off like he knew exactly where he was going, and we followed.He led us along the bluff above the river for a spell, and then starteddown. In a minute I saw where we were. We were just across fromButternut Island, and right above our old cave--the cave where Mark andTallow hid Mr. Tidd's turbine a long while back, and where Sammy, thehalf-breed Injun, used to live.

  "Bet he hain't there," says I. "He couldn't ever find it."

  "He must 'a' found it," says Mark, "because he's in it right now."

  "How d'you know?" says I.

  "Because," says he, with another aggravating grin, "there hain't noother place for him to be."

  Well, down we went, quiet-like, and peeked in the cave. It was prettydark there, but all the same we could see something. It looked likesomebody asleep, and Mark he grinned at me again.

  "You sneaked up here and found him," says I.

  "Didn't," says he; "jest figgered it out--and there he is."

  He was that proud of himself just then that you couldn't touch him witha giraffe's neck.

  "Rock," he called, soft-like, "Rock."

  Rock jumped up so sudden he was like to have busted his head against thecave roof, and looked around scared.

  "It's Mark Tidd and the f-f-fellers," says Mark. "Come on out."

  "How'd you find me?" says Rock, after he'd got over being scared andsurprised.

  "Well," says Mark, "I knew you must be somewheres around, because youcouldn't of got away. You'd be seen or somethin'. We followed you to theriver and then lost your tracks, so I knew you were perty clost to here,hidin'. This is the only good hidin'-place for a long ways, so If-figgered you _had_ to be here--and here you are."

  "Glad Jethro hasn't as much brains as you have, Mark."

  "Why?"

  "Because he'd have found me, instead of you."

  "But," says Mark, "we're a-goin' to take you back to him."

  Rock just looked at him.

  "L-look here," says Mark, "you got to trust us if we're goin' to do youany good. And I'll tell you this, that with you gone there hain't theleast chance of ever findin' out about you. You got to _be_ there.... Ishouldn't wonder if the Man With the Black Gloves would be t-tickled todeath, when he got to thinkin' it over, if you was to run away and henever heard of you again. You're a-goin' back there because that's whereyou can do yourself the most good and those f-fellers the most harm. Seeit?"

  "I see your idea," says Rock, "but it don't look very pleasant."

  "Neither does l-livin' in a cave and eat'n' stolen pie look very good,"says Mark.

  "But--" says Rock.

  "Either you go back with us or we quit the whole b-b-business," saysMark. "We're goin' to let on to Jethro that we captured you, and he'llpay us money. And he'll think you hate us, if you act right, and he'lltrust us so's we'll get a chance to nose around a little. I'm mightycurious," says he, "about that cat that Mr. Wigglesworth wrote about,and where it's lookin', and why; and I'd like a chance to l-l-look forit."

  "Maybe you're right," says Rock.

  "Course I am," says Mark.

  "All right," says Rock, "but it isn't very pleasant being shut up andwatched and treated like they've treated me."

  "It won't l-l-last long," says Mark. "Come on."

  We started back, with Rock looking pretty dubious over his prospects. Ifhe had known Mark Tidd as well as we did he wouldn't have felt so muchthat way, though I'll admit _I_ wouldn't have been tickled to death ifI'd been in his place.

  Jethro just rushed at us and grabbed a-holt of Rock,rough-like.]

  It didn't take us a great while to get back to the farm with Rock, andthere was Jethro walking up and down and growling and acting prettyanxious. When he saw us turn in the yard with Rock he just _rushed_ atus and grabbed a-holt of Rock, rough-like.

  "Hey, there!" says Mark. "G-go easy."

  Jethro looked at him a second and let right go, and then began to grin."I guess," says he, "that you kids have earned your money," and hepassed it over.

  "Now," says he to Rock, "what you mean by runnin' off, eh? Had a pertytime of it, hain't you? Well, you let me ketch you tryin' it again, andyou'll wisht you'd been shut up in a cage like a monkey in a circus. Youbet you will."

  "G-got anythin' to eat around this p-place?" says Mark.

  Jethro looked Mark over and laughed right out. Not the kind of laugh afellow likes, but a noisy, bossy kind of a laugh. "You look like yougen'ally got plenty," says he.

  "I do," says Mark, short as could be, because he don't like to havefolks talking about his weight. Then he winked at Jethro and got him offto one side.

  "Say," he says, "that kid's goin' to slip away s-s-sure," says he, "ifhe hain't watched. _You_ can't do it right, but us fellers can. What yousay to givin' us a job guardin' him? We'll see he's kept here till it'stime for him to go somewheres else."

  Jethro scratched his chin and thought it over.

  "How much?" says he.

  "Fifty c-cents a day," says Mark. "One of us'll be here all the t-time."

  "Good," says Jethro. "I'll jest take you up on that. Keep your eye onhim clost. Don't let him git
out of this yard."

  "Don't worry," says Mark. "Now how about s-s-somethin' to eat?"

  Jethro went in and brought us out some pie and a fried-cake apiece--thebakery kind. They weren't very good, but we managed to get away withthem, and then Jethro went about his business, having been fooled goodby Mark, and depending on him to keep his eye on Rock.

  When he was gone Mark says to Rock, "Now you s-s-see why we wanted tof-fetch you back? We got the job w-watchin' you, and we can be with youall we want, and we can s-s-snoop around this place as much as we wantto. And I can tell you I've got a heap of snoopin' to do. And we can seeto it that nothin' happens to you, for one of us will be here all thetime."

  "Mark Tidd," says Rock, "you're all right. You've got more brains inyour little finger than I have in my head."

  Mark sort of threw up his head and pushed out his chest, and his littleeyes just _shone_, he was so tickled. There's nothing that pleases himlike getting praised when he knows it's coming to him.

  "You kids go off and p-p-play somethin'," says he. "I want to nosearound this p-place to see if I can make any thin' out of that writin'Mr. Wigglesworth left. Seems to me l-like it must have meant thisp-place. Don't it to you?"

  "Why?" says I.

  "Because," says he, "there don't seem to be anythin' about the writin'to indicate any other p-place. This was the p-place he was always at.This was where Rock was, and the w-writin' concerns Rock, you can bet onthat. What I got to do is f-find a cat that's always lookin' in oned-direction, and then f-figger on from there."

  "Sure," says I, "you just find me a cat that don't never turn her head,and I'll dig up a bag of gold right under her feet. The cats I knowhain't used to actin' jest like that. Sometimes they move; anyways, theywiggle their ears. And the cat 'u'd _starve_," says I. "How could a catlive that didn't move around any?"

  "Binney," says he, slow-like, "if you had as m-many brains in your headas you got _words_ you'd be a wonder," and off he went, holding allthree of his chins up in the air, he was so disgusted.

  "He's a funny one, isn't he?" says Rock, looking after him, "but I'llbet he's more fun than any kid I ever saw."

  "You bet he is," says I.

  "What d'you s'pose he's tryin' to find?" says Rock. "It's sure hedoesn't expect to discover a _cat_ that always sits still and looksright in one direction. He's got too much sense for that."

  "Mostly," says I, "you don't get on to what Mark Tidd is up to untilhe's done it."

  "And then," says Tallow, "sometimes you wisht you hadn't. He'd ratherplay a joke on somebody than do anything else in the world except thinkup some business scheme. I'll bet he gets rich some day. Yes, sir, I'llbet he gets richer than his pa."

  "Is his father rich?" says Rock.

  "Got billions," says Tallow, "and Mark got 'em for him, too. We helpedsome, but Mark did most of it. Mark's father is a inventor, and some menstole his turbine, and we fellers got it back again."

  "Say," says I, "let's pester him a little to see what he'll do--aboutthat cat, I mean."

  "Better not," says Tallow.

  "Go on," says Plunk. "Maybe we can get the best of him for once. Tellyou what let's do. Let's make up a poem about a cat that don't move, andrecite it to him. It'll tease him to beat the band, because he hatespoetry."

  "Go ahead," says I. "I hain't no poet. It keeps me busy talkin' ordinarygrammar."

  "Keeps you more 'n busy," says Plunk. "If I talked as bad grammar as youdo I'd git special lessons off'n the teacher."

  "Huh!" says I. "I guess I make folks understand what I'm talkin' about,anyhow. Git at that poem."

  They sat still, thinking about it, and pretty soon Tallow says, "How'dthis do for a first line?

  "There was a boy and he was fat. He went and hunted for a cat."

  "Fine," says I. "Go ahead."

  After a while Plunk scratched around in his head and dug up anotherline:

  "It was a cat that didn't stir, And probably it didn't purr."

  "Rotten," says I, "but what can you expect of sich a crowd?"

  "See what _you_ can do, then," says Plunk. "All right," says I. "Listento this:

  "That was a funny kind of cat; The boy was talking through his hat."

  "Good stuff," says Tallow. "Best yet. Be careful, Binney, or you'll gitsomethin' printed if you don't watch out."

  "Here he comes," says Rock, and, sure enough, there was Mark comingtoward us slow, waddling like a duck just before Thanksgiving. He cameand sat down without saying a word, and anybody could see he wasdiscouraged. Why, discouragement just oozed out of him. We snickered.

  "Say, Mark," says I, "we been improvin' our time while you was gone. Wemade up a poem. Like to hear it?"

  "Go ahead," says he. "I guess I can s-s-stand 'most any thin' to-day."

  "Here it is," says I:

  "There was a boy and he was fat. He went and hunted for a cat. It was a cat that didn't stir, And probably it didn't purr. That was a funny kind of cat; The boy was talking through his hat."

  Mark didn't say anything for a couple of minutes, and we knew we hadhim. At last we had stung him good, and he couldn't think of anything tosay. I was that tickled I reached over and poked Tallow in the ribs.

  Mark looked at me sad-like, and then says: "I got a l-l-little to add tothat poem. How's this?

  "He h-hunted for it all alone, Because the f-f-fellers' heads was bone, And found a cat made out of _s-stone_!"

  He almost yelled that last word, and looked so tickled and excited Iknew in a second that he had the best of us again.

  "What's that?" says I.

  "Come and see," says he, and up we got and followed him. He led us downthe yard a piece where we could see all those carved animals, and thenhe took us around a clump of bushes and pointed down. There was a _cat_!It was a stone cat.

  "Guess she don't move frequent, d-does she?" says he.

  "For cat's sake!" says Tallow.

  Mark grinned. "You said it t-that time. 'The boy was talkin' through hishat,'" he quoted from our poem. "Maybe he was--and maybe not. I waslookin' for somethin' like this. Now, how about cats that don't stir,eh? Guess this cat looks the same way all the time. Don't it?"

  "Mark," says I, "how did you ever think of it?"

  "It _had_ to be this kind of a c-c-cat," says he; "that was p-plainenough."

  "Where she looks she walks," says Plunk. "Let's walk."

  "Nix," says Mark. "Jethro might be l-l-lookin'. We want to foiler outthis thing on the quiet--and we'll do it, you bet. We know where tostart from, and that's the hardest part of it." He turned to Rock, "Iguess we're goin' to haul you out of this scrape," says he, "sooner orlater.... Now we got to git for h-home. I got work to do."