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"He wants his father should know he's safe," explained Chick-chick, as they looked after the flying figure. "Come on, Brick. They'll be worrying about us, too. You better keep close, Matt. Your head might go bad, it might." Apple was the center of an excited crowd of scouts for there had been no sleep in camp that night. Already they were wigwagging the news of the discovery.
"All right, Chick-chick. Be as funny as you want. If my father ran a garage I reckon I'd know something about tires, too." "'Scuse me! You certainly right, Goosey. Who ought know automobile tires if not me. What I want you see is these tires can be followed anywhere 'cause they're non-skid with that peculiar bar formation. They'll show up on road so we can follow on dead run, we can."
He was unable to understand or appreciate any friendly offers from Glen, for he felt that his share in the proceedings had been ludicrous if not contemptible and expected scant mercy from either Glen or Chick-chick.
Henry Henry, commonly called Chick-chick, did not desire to shine as a great athlete, sport leader, a water witch, or in any of the other specialties in which Matt reveled, but he did pretend to know a little something about beetles, bugs, butterflies and bees. He had long cherished an ambition to find a "bee tree."
We used to swim there last year but it's really too cold for fun. That's just about half way down the Mound, but there's no elms anywhere near." "How would it be to mark that for 'Deep Springs' and put the mark for 'Twin Elms' just where the two elms you speak about are?" "An' then put big star between 'em an' everything be over but pickin' up treasure," put in Chick-chick, sarcastically.
"They know all about me being a hero," said Matt. "But they know I learned something in that cave." "All ready, now," said the doctor. "You hold the bowl," he said to Apple. "And now that you have scrubbed your hands you may hold this pan of instruments," he said to Chick-chick. "And I guess we haven't anything for you to hold," to Glen. "He's going to be the anesthetic," said Matt.
After the men had gone Glen found it anxious work waiting with the deputy and the horses while Chick-chick led the sheriff's posse to glory. "I suppose we'll hear 'em shooting most any minute," he said to the deputy. "Mebbe we will mebbe we won't," replied the deputy. "We won't if things go the way the old man intends." "How is that?" asked Glen.
We were near enough so we could both see the man very clearly." "Well; this other fellow, now; the one you never had seen before? What did he look like?" "Big man," said Chick-chick. "Over six foot. Black hair, no hair on his face. I got good look once and face was all one side like this, it was." Chick-chick drew his face to one side in a peculiar manner. Mimicry was one of his talents.
He felt it in the companionship of Apple and Chick-chick as they marched up Buffalo Mound together that night, carrying their firewood and blankets for the bivouac. There was a new bond of fellowship between them, a bond which Glen would have found it quite impossible to state in words but which was none the less genuine and fixed.
"There wouldn't be any pleasure in it, now," said Chick-chick. "Hold your offer till we get t' camp if ye want t' please me. What I say is let's put all lights out and everybody go to sleep." "Suppose the water comes up on us," objected Matt. "It won't. It can't rise much higher'n the creek level an' we're way above it now. Let's go to sleep." "I can't," Matt still objected. "What's matter?
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