There we were in a town we never saw before, with no place to go and no idea what to do next. Ludington seemed to us like a pretty big town after Wicksville, but we didn’t let that frighten us.

“What’ll we do now?” I asked.

“I’m g-g-goin’ to git the gravel out of my ears,” says Mark. “You can do whatever you want to.”

That was a pretty good idea. The gravel I got wasn’t in my ears; mostly it was down my neck. I was full of it. I don’t suppose the railroad company ever missed what I took away, and I didn’t see any reason why I should carry it back, so I left a nice little pile of it on the sidewalk.

“Wish I could wash up,” says Mark.

“And I,” I says, cross-like, “wish you’d quit thinkin’ about how uncomfortable you are and start to thinkin’ about Uncle Hieronymous.”

“Binney,” says he, “d-d-don’t get het up. Think a minnit. Jiggins and Collins never saw Uncle Hieronymous, did they? Then they wouldn’t know him if they met him. And they d-don’t know where to look. They’ll never find him to-night. There hain’t such an awful hurry that I c-c-can’t get the gravel out of my hair.”

“I’ll bet they’re lookin’ for him right now.”

Mark sighed. “There hain’t any use in it,” says he, “but I s’pose I g-g-got to humor you. Come on.”

We went straight ahead till we came to a wide street with electric lights on it. Down to the right you could see stores and business buildings, so we turned that way, and a walk of three or four blocks took us downtown.

“Now,” says Mark, “where do we b-b-begin lookin’ for him?”

“Hotel,” says I, pointing across the street to one.

Mark looked. “No use askin’ there,” he says. “Uncle Hieronymous wouldn’t stay there.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Two reasons,” says he. “In the f-f-first place, he wouldn’t take any comfort eatin’ his meals there, and, in the s-second place, it costs too much. Uncle Hieronymous wouldn’t eat in any b-big dinin’-room with f-f-fifty folks lookin’ on.”

“What kind of a place would he stop at?”

“Either a boardin’-house or a leetle f-f-farmer’s hotel. I b-bet there’s an old hotel here s-s-somewheres where he would f-feel to home, one where there hain’t much s-s-style.”

“Well,” says I, “s’pose we find out.”

We wandered around and found a couple of hotels that didn’t look too fine. In both of them we asked for Uncle Hieronymous, and both times the man behind the counter grinned when we mentioned the name.

“Say,” says the last one, “what’s that feller been doin’? Lots of folks lookin’ for him to-night.”

“What’s that?” Mark asked.

“Two fellers in here not twenty minnits ago askin’ for him.”

“A f-f-fat one and a thin one?”

“Them’s the pair.”

Mark and I looked at each other. It was dead certain Collins and Jiggins weren’t letting any grass grow under their feet.

“They might stumble onto him,” I says.

“Yes,” says Mark, “and they m-m-might stumble onto us, too.”

I never thought of that. We might run bang into them any time, and then what would happen? Something would, that’s sure; but what? I didn’t want to find out.

“We got to go cautious,” says I.

Mark wrinkled his nose scornful-like.

“How’d you come to think of that?” he asked, snappish. I guess that tumble off the train had upset his disposition. I made up my mind I’d leave him alone till he felt better.

After a while he stopped still in the middle of the sidewalk and says, “Hang it!” You never saw such a disgusted look as he had on his face.

“What’s matter?” I asked.

“I ought to be k-k-kicked,” says he.

“All right,” says I. “What for?”

“For not askin’ who Uncle Hieronymous w-w-worked for.”

To be sure. Neither of us had thought of it. It would have been as easy as biting an apple to find him if we knew who his boss was, but we didn’t. Now there wasn’t any way of finding out. Mark felt pretty bad. He said he guessed he was getting feeble-minded and a lot of things like that. And he was mad, too. I was glad to see that, for when Marcus Aurelius Fortunatus Tidd gets mad you want to look out. From now on Jiggins & Co. would have to travel pretty fast to beat us.

About fifteen minutes later I saw Jiggins and Collins about a block ahead.

“There,” says I to Mark, “is the enemy.”

“F-f-fine,” says he. “Come on.”

“Where?”

“F-follow ’em, of course. If they find Uncle Hieronymous we can b-bust in on ’em. If they go to b-bed we’ll be able to get some sleep, too.”

That was a fact. So long as we knew they were in bed it would be safe for us to take a rest, and if they were to find my uncle with us looking on it would be pretty funny if there wasn’t some way for us to warn him before he signed any papers and made over his mineral rights. It looked, as Mark said, like we occupied a pretty fine strategical position. He knows a lot of words like that, and you ought to hear him say them. On a good long word with “s’s” in it like “strategical,” he’ll hiss and stutter and splutter for five minutes. It’s better than listening to a phonograph.

We kept about half a block behind Jiggins & Co. and on the other side of the road, taking pains to keep people between us and the men. We watched them go into several places, probably to ask about Uncle Hieronymous, but every time they came out disappointed. Finally they stopped and argued a few minutes, and then wheeled suddenly and came back toward us. The streets were pretty clear by this time, and there was no chance for us to mingle with the crowd and get away. All we could do was duck into a dark stairway.

Jiggins & Co. crossed the street to our side and came walking up the sidewalk slowly, like they were pretty well played out. If they felt anything like I did they were, and there’s no doubt about it. Between falling off a train, paddling all day, and walking all the evening I felt like I was about ready to give up the ship. Another mile and I knew I’d up and splinter all to pieces on the sidewalk. Next day somebody’d have swept me up in a dust-pan and wondered where in the world all the slivers came from.

The nearer the enemy got the farther Mark and I scrooched back into the stairway. In a minnit they got right in front of us, and I heard Jiggins speak to somebody.

“Good evening, mister,” he says.

“Good evening,” says the stranger.

“We just came to town,” says Jiggins. “Been here two hours. Walked and walked. Looking for a man. Old man. Lumberman. Know any lumbermen?”

“Heaps,” says the stranger. “Used to be a lumber-jack myself.”

“Just our man. I knew it as soon as I saw you. Says I, &l............