“I bet Grove Bronson will want to go after what his sister tells him,” he went on. “He ought to go as her representative, hey? She’s entitled to her share of the treasure—you can’t deny that. Anyway, one of us ought to watch Bennett’s.”

Now this is the way I thought about it, because I know Harry Donnelle. I remembered what he said about how a fellow might just as well take an auto trip in one direction as another, and I didn’t believe he was bothering his head much about finding buried treasure. That’s just the kind of a fellow he is—happy-go-lucky. I guess that’s why everybody likes him. But, cracky, I’m always game for an auto trip and I was crazy to have Skinny (that’s little Alf) go on one, because he had never been in an auto or had any fun like that.

I guess I might as well tell you about Skinny, because the way things came out, it will be best if you know all about him. And especially because he was one of the big four—that’s what Harry called us. Gee whiz, maybe we weren’t very big, but we made noise enough. I guess as long as I’m at it, I’ll tell you about the whole four of us, hey?

big four

Anyway, you know all about Pee-wee, and I guess you know all about me. I’m patrol leader of the Silver Foxes and it’s some job. That’s what makes me so quiet and sad like—I have so much trouble. It’s such a nervous strain, I have to rub it with liniment. I should worry.

Harry Donnelle said that the reason he took Grove Bronson was, because Grove has the pathfinder’s badge and would be a good one when it came to hunting for something. But that wasn’t the reason he took him at all. The reason he took him was, because he’s Grace Bronson’s brother. Maybe he thinks he can fool me, but he can’t. Anyway, Grove is one of the raving Ravens (that’s Pirate Harris’s patrol), and he’s a nice fellow, only he’s left-handed, but he can eat four helpings of chocolate pudding. Gee whiz, that isn’t so bad for a fellow that’s left-handed. I knew a left-handed fellow up at Temple Camp who could sing dandy.

So that leaves only Skinny, because if I were to tell you all about Harry Donnelle’s adventures, believe me, there wouldn’t be any room for anything else, and my sister says I’d better stop using her note paper. Maybe you notice this story is pink—that’s because it’s written on pink paper.

me

Skinny’s right name is Alfred McCord, and he lives in a marsh shanty; there are a lot of those down 

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