Pee-wee's first impulse was to shout, but on second thought it occurred
to him that the army of invasion consisting of two, one of them might
make a flank move on hearing his warning voice, and that one detective
could thus drive the criminals into the very arms of the other, as they
passed through the back yard of Chin Foo's laundry. Chin Foo's back yard
was a sort of trap.

So instead of shouting he descended from the fence with lightning agility
and ran across the field as fast as his legs would carry him, and
pell-mell into the group.

"Two detectives are coming down the alley," he panted. "Beat it over
that way and then you'll _sure_ not run into one of them because they've
got--got--a lot of strat--strat--strat--strat--egy--they have--you'd
better hurry up."

The time it required for the group to disperse can not be indicated by
any word in the English language. They were there and then they were not
there. As Pee-wee stood amid scattered coins and dice he was conscious
of distant forms scaling fences, wriggling through holes, and of one pair
of legs disappearing majestically over a dilapidated roof. As a
disorderly retreat it was a masterpiece.

It was not in Pee-wee's nature to run from anything or anybody. So there
he stood amid the telltale mementoes of the dreadful game while
Detectives Slippett and Spotson strolled into the field. They were just
in time to behold a fleeting vision of forms wriggling through fences,
gliding around buildings, and scrambling over roof tops.