But before they could get going, the shack still had to be locked, with Flicker inside, and this took a while. Old Pete thought he had the padlock in his pocket. He was always sure that someone would want to steal the treasures he picked up at the dump. He behaved like a miser who has money hidden under his mattress. The padlock was not in his pocket, so he went in and looked, and finally Nick found it, fallen to the ground and hidden under a piece of iron pipe. One thing about Old Pete was that he would not be hurried. “All in good time” was his favorite phrase.

At last they set forth, each with a rifle, Old Pete having borrowed some shot from Nick, and slowly, at Old Pete’s pace, they climbed the hill toward the Chapmans’, while he kept up a steady stream of talk. He noticed a striped maple.

“Darned if I knew that was there. Best wood for whistles. Know that? Whistlewood we used to call it. I could make one to call Flicker.”

And a little farther on, he asked Nick to hold his horses. The fact was that Old Pete was short of breath, so they sat down on a stone wall and watched a chipmunk dart back and forth, chattering.

“We must be sitting on his hole. Mad as a cow in spring. Listen to that!”

All this time Nick said nothing, nor did he seem to be listening exactly. He was simply waiting—waiting for whatever it was that held his imagination, caught and beating its wings like a bird caught in a net. He wiped the sweat from his upper lip. Inwardly he cursed himself for asking Old Pete along—why had he done such a fool thing? Well, if they got into trouble, it would be just as well to have a witness—that was one reason. But maybe the real reason was that Nick was scared—scared of himself and what he might do. It was like patrols in the army—two weren’t as trigger-happy as one.

Now they had turned off the fork and were on a ridge, with Chapman land posted on both sides of the road. So far there had been no sign of the car with New York plates. But Nick kept his eyes open and pretty soon he saw the glint of metal down a grassy road that had been used for getting to a lumber lot but was all grown over now. There was no one to be seen around the car. Nick and Old Pete peered in the window.

“Wish I could get hold of that six-pack,” Old Pete muttered as he noticed it on the floor.

“We’re not thieves.”

Luckily there could be no argument. The doors were locked.

“Well, what do we do now, Captain?”