“Some folks sit and think and think, And some folks writes it down with ink,”
he finished up. “Them that thinks and writes it down,” he says, “is authors and poets and philosophers, and them that jest thinks is loafers.”
We were just getting ready to start out when a man that uncle called Billy came driving up in a rickety buggy. As soon as he got in sight he began to yell at us, but we couldn’t understand what he was talking about. When he got close to the house he drew up and yelled louder than ever:
“No,” says uncle, scratching his chin. “We got a lot of names around, but Collins hain’t one of ’em. Maybe some other’ll do.”
“It’s a telegraft,” says Billy, “and a dummed funny one, too. None of the boys around town could make head or tail to it. Collins was the name. Left word to the hotel he was goin’ to stop somewheres on the Middle Branch. Mighty funny telegraft. Wisht I knowed what it was about.”
“Maybe he’s up to Larsen’s,” says uncle. “I’ve knowed folks to stop there that wouldn’t hesitate a minnit to get telegrafts. Why, Billy, a feller there got a express parcel once.”
Billy held a yellow envelope in his hand and shook his head at it. “Dummed peculiar!” he says. “The only words of sense to it is that somebody’s comin’ t’ meet him. Want to see it?”
“Dun’no’s I do, Billy,” says Uncle Hieronymous. “I got most too much to figger about now without havin’ more added unnecessary.”
“Mysterious, I call it,” Billy says, and shook up his horses. “You bet you I’m a-goin’ to ask the feller what’s the meanin’ of it.”
We watched Billy till he went out of sight around a bend in the sandy road; then Mark Tidd, with his little eyes twinkling the way they do when he sees something more than ordinary funny, says: “We b-b-better get started. There’s consid’able j-jungle to explore.”
Right off we knew Mark was going to pretend we were over in Africa or somewheres plugging along through a forest where the foot of white man had never trod or shot a gun or built a fire. [Note, by Mark Tidd: Must have been a trained foot.]
“I’ll g-go first,” says Mark. “Binney, you be the r-rear-guard. Plunk will watch to the right, and Tallow to the l-left.”
So we started up-stream, keeping close to the water for fear of getting lost.