"Well, what is it?" I asked, rather sharply.

"Jest hold your horses a little bit," he retorted. "Grist and me knows,
and so do Mr. Cullop and Mr. Schulmeyer. And I'm goin' to take them and
you two reporters to LOOK at it. All ready? Then come on."

He threw open the door, stooped to the gust that took him by the throat,
and led the way out into the storm.

"What IS he up to?" I gasped to the "Journal" man as we followed in a
straggling line.

"I don't know any more than you do," he returned. "He thinks he's got
something that'll queer Beasley. Peck's an old fool, but it's just
possible he's got hold of something. Nearly everybody has ONE thing, at
least, that they don't want found out. It may be a good story. Lord,
what a night!"

I pushed ahead to the leader's side. "See here, Mr. Peck--" I began, but
he cut me off.

"You listen to ME, young man! I'm givin' you some news for your paper,
and I'm gittin' at it my own way, but I'll git AT it, don't you worry!
I'm goin' to let some folks around here know what kind of a feller Dave
Beasley really is; yes, and I'm goin' to show George Dowden he can't
laugh at ME!"

"You're going to show Mr. Dowden?" I said. "You mean you're going to
take him on this expedition, too?"