"I'll take care of this here car of Mr. Bartlett's. The next house we
come to I'm going to stop and let you out a little way past it and
you're going to show what you can do; you're going to go back and 'phone
to tell Mr. Bartlett we're on our way, and I'll wait for you."

"You wanted me to do that at a house that was empty and where there
wasn't any 'phone; I could tell because there weren't any wires. Do you
think scouts can't see things? You just want to get rid of me, that's
all. You want to get rid of me where there aren't any 'phones or people
or anything. Gee, maybe I'm not as strong as you, but anyway I know what
you're up to, that's one sure thing."

"Are you going to do as I tell you?"

"I'm a scout and I'm not going to get out till you put me out, so
there."

Slowly the big car moved up the rocky hill and around the bend and
the finding light which had been focused on the church shifted its area
of distant brightness until Mr. Swiper turned it off just as the two big
headlights threw their glare along the straight level road.

[Illustration: "THE ROAD IS CLOSED," SAID PETER.]

The small figure in the shabby gray sweater and tough looking cap was
nervous and apprehensive and angry with a righteous anger. But he did
not tremble like the poor little lonely figure waiting in the darkness
with eyes fixed upon those two dazzling, glaring eyes.
Five-o-seven-nine-two. There it is, Peter; read it again as the car