This stealthy meeting under the old elm tree
near the witching hour of midnight was quite to Hervey's taste.
He found Tom already there.
"Now for the buried treasure, hey, Slady?" he said.
"I want you to promise me not to sing," Tom said soberly. "Now listen,"
he added, whispering. "That turtle came from way up in that mountain. It
has T. H. cut on its shell, and I think the carving is new. That
trainman said two men with a kid got out at Catskill. He said the kid
had a jack-knife. His folks said he had a sweater. Maybe the men put the
jacket on him--keep still till I get through. Maybe they wanted to
disguise him.
"It's bad enough for detectives to make fools of themselves and get that
kid's family all excited, without scouts doing it. Maybe I'm all wrong
but we're going to make sure."
"Are you going up there, Slady?" Hervey whispered excitedly, as if ready
to start.
"No, not yet. We're going to find out something about the sweater
first."
"No one is in this but just you and I, hey?"
"And Llewellyn and Orestes. Now listen, I want you to climb up this tree
and don't scare the bird whatever you do. You can climb like a monkey.
Don't interfere with the nest, but feel with your fingers and see if you
can give me an idea what that red streak is made of. Don't call down.
All we know now is that Orestes and Llewellyn came from pretty near the
same spot. Two little clews are better than one big one if they match.
Go on now, beat it, and whatever you do don't call down or I'll murder
you.
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