And the
funny thing about it was that the little gnome had given the clue
to his benefactor and not his father who knew nothing about the
frightful revelation of that morning until it was all over.
So perhaps there is a little god of good turns after all, who,
all unseen, administers punches in the nose and pays back two
hundred and fifty dollar gifts and so forth, and has the time of
his life watching how these things work out. Or a "pay back sperrit"
as Licorice Stick might have called him. ...
As Pee-Wee approached the scene of the fire he saw in the bushes
something which caught his eye. This was a torn fragment of clothing.
The bushes were trampled down at the spot. It was not hard for the
scout to follow this line of trampled brush which was so disordered
that he thought it could not have been caused by a walking or fleeing
person. It was well away from the area where the men had fought the
flames.
Here and there something brown and sticky on the leaves caught
the scout's eye. Some one had crawled stealthily through here. Or
else dragged himself through. Pee-Wee shuddered at this thought.
He examined the trampled channel more carefully. And from this
examination he was satisfied of one fact which made him uneasy,
apprehensive.
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