He went to the Economy post office and on the back of a circular that
he found in the waste basket he wrote another note: "Pat. This is blood money an' I can't kep it. I didunt no when I
undertuk the job wot kind of a job it was. Thers only one way fur yoo
to kep yur hid saf, an that is to tel the trooth abot wot hapuned. If
yoo ar wiling to tel the trooth put a leter heer sayin so. If yoo don't
I am havin' you watshed an you will los yoor job an likely be hanged.
We are arumd so be keerful. This aint yella. This is rite.
THE KID."
It was a long job and he was tired when it was finished, for his days
at school had been full of so many other things besides lessons that
literary efforts were always strenuous for him. When he had finished he
went out and carried three parcels for the meat market, receiving in
return thirty cents, which exactly made up the sum he had spent from
his tainted money. With this wrapped bunglingly in his note he
proceeded to ambush near Pleasant Valley. He had other fish to fry, but
not till dark. Meantime, if that underground telephone was being used
at other times in the day he wanted to know it.
He placed the note and money obviously before the little hidden
telephone from which he had cleared the leaves and rubbish that hid it,
and then retired to cover where he settled himself comfortably. He knew
Pat would be busy till the two evening trains had arrived, after that
if he did not come there would likely be no calls before morning again,
and he could go on his way. With a pleasant snack of sugar cookies and
cream puffs he lay back and closed his eyes, glad of this brief respite
from his life of care and perplexity. Of course he couldn't get away
from his thoughts, but what a pleasant place this was, with the scent
of sassafras and winter green all around him, and the meadow lark high
in the air somewhere. There were bees in the wild honeysuckle not far
away. He could hear their lazy drone. It would be nice to be a bee and
fly, fly away from everything. Did bees care about things? Did they
have troubles, and love folks and lose 'em? When a bee died did the
other bees care? Aw Gee! Mark in--j--No! He wouldn't say it!
Mark was in New York! Yes, of course he was. It would all come right
some day. He would catch those crooks and put 'em in jail--no, first
he'd use 'em to clear Mark. When he got done here he was going up to
watch the old house and find out about that noise, and he'd see whether
Link and Shorty would put anything more over! Link and Shorty and Pat,
and that sissy Shafton and Sam, whoever Sam was! They were all his
enemies! If Mark were only here how they would go to that old haunted
house together and work this thing out. He ought to have told Mark
everything. Fool! Just to save his own hide! Just to keep Mark from
blaming him! Well, he was done saving himself or getting ill gotten
gains. Him for honesty for the rest of his life.