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Updated: May 10, 2025
At least it came slowly enough for everyone to see that it was coming directly toward the brass cannon. The Bradleys certainly saw this, for they ran as fast as they could, and kept on running. The ball caught the cannon under its mouth and tossed it in the air, knocking the flagpole into a dozen pieces, and passing on through two of the palm-covered huts.
Just then her eye fell on the flagpole, and we followed her horrified gaze. The flag had been neatly cut away! Tish's eyes narrowed. She looked positively dangerous; and within five minutes she had cut another flag out of the back breadth of the petticoat and flung it defiantly in the air. Who had cut away the signal McDonald or the detective?
By this time they had passed through the village and, after walking about half a mile down a country road, they emerged on a green, park-like meadow, at the further side of which stood a neat cottage. Portions of a whale's huge bones dotted either side of the path as ornaments, and in front of the cottage stood a flagpole from which fluttered the Stars and Stripes.
The little schoolhouse with its flagpole on top and its two doors in front, one for boys and the other for girls, stood on the crest of a hill, with rolling fields and meadows on one side, a stretch of pine woods on the other, and the river glinting and sparkling in the distance. It boasted no attractions within.
Two little brass cannon thrust their muzzles over the parapet to seaward and the central space of grass about the flagpole was neatly surrounded with a decoration of scallop shells. "Could anybody but an old sailor have created this place?" asked Brendon. A middle-aged man with a telescope under his arm came along the terrace to greet them.
At the end the proud structure was a lonely obelisk furred in a green covering to the very flagpole on its peak, from which waved disappointed yet still aspiring runners. Upward and outward continuously, empty lot, fillingstation, artistic billboard, all alike to the greedy fingers. Like thumb and index they formed a crescent, a threatening semicircle, reaching forward by indirection.
Macey the teamster pointed out the barely visible bit of black fluttering a hundred and sixty feet above the pavement. "Now how about the reward, Mr. Macey?" demanded the teamster. "That will be paid you, if you return the scarf to Mrs. Macey," replied the real estate man dryly. The teamster's jaw dropped. For the uppermost eighteen feet of the spire consisted of a stout flagpole.
McDonald called to her as she passed, but she ignored him. 12, noon. Really, there is something mysterious about all this. The detective was evidently whittling a flagpole. He has erected it now, with a red silk handkerchief at end. It hangs out over the water. Aggie bass, but under legal size. 1.15 P.M. The flag puzzles Hutchins. She is covertly watching it. It is evidently a signal but to whom?
"Well," Hawkins said sharply, breaking in upon my reverie. "Don't stand there mooning. Did you ever see anything like it before?" "Once, when I was a child," I confessed, "I fell while climbing a flagpole, and that night I dreamed " "Bah! Come along and watch her work." "No!" I protested. "Oh, no!" "Good Lord, why not?" cried Hawkins. "My wife," I murmured.
"Someone has been making a flagpole," said the Angel, running the toe of her shoe around the stump, evidently made that season. "Freckles, what would anyone cut a tree as small as that for?" "I don't know," said Freckles. "Well, but I want to know!" said the Angel. "No one came away here and cut it for fun. They've taken it away. Let's go back and see if we can see it anywhere around there."
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