didn't have _The
Hoosier Schoolmaster_, not wanting her to ask where it was, so he
wouldn't have to tell her.

Both Poetry and I were out of doors in a jiffy and the door was half
shut behind us when Poetry's mother said, "Hadn't we better wrap it
up, Leslie,--just in case you might accidentally drop it?"

"I promise you, I won't drop it," Poetry said, "besides we want to
hurry. I want to take a picture of something before the sun gets too
far down. Come on, Bill, hurry up!" Poetry squawked to me, and I
hurried after him, both of us running fast out through their back yard
in the direction of Bumblebee hill.

But Poetry's mother called to us from the back door and said, "Where
are you going? Mrs. Mansfield doesn't live in _that_ direction."

Poetry and I stopped and looked at each other.

All of a sudden we knew we were caught, so Poetry said to me, "What'll
we tell her?"

And remembering something my pop had taught me to do when I was caught
in a trap, I said all of a sudden, quoting my pop, "Tell her the
truth."

Poetry scowled, "You tell her," he said, which I did, saying "Mrs.
Thompson, the gang had _The Hoosier Schoolmaster_ this afternoon, and
we left him--I mean _it_--down on Bumblebee hill. We have to go there
first to get it," and all of a sudden I felt fine inside, and know
that Pop was right. Poetry's mom might not like to hear _exactly_
where the book was, right that very minute, and it didn't seem exactly
right to tell her, so when she didn't ask me, I didn't tell her.

Poetry's mother must have understood her very mischievous boy, though,
and didn't want to get him into a corner, for she said, "Thank you for
telling me. Now I can phone Mrs. Mansfield it will take a little
longer for you to get there with the book--and, by the way, if you see
Mr. Black tell him about next Wednesday night--you probably will see
him. I told him you boys were over on Bumblebee hill, and how to get
there. He seemed to want to see you."

Poetry and I both yelled back to her, saying, "You told him WHAT!" and
without another word or waiting to hear what she said, we started like
lightning as fast as we could go, straight for Sugar Creek and
Bumblebee hill, wondering if by taking a short cut we could get there
before Mr. Black did; and in my mind's eye, I could see Poetry, IF we
got there first, making a dive for _The Hoosier Schoolmaster_ on the
snow man; and I could see myself, making a leap for the man's head,
and kn