He rapidly repeated the
conversation he had overheard.
"Where is the flower-house?" asked Beany.
"It must be the greenhouse," he said. "I think I have seen the
shorter one of those men helping the head gardener."
"I tell you what! It's your turn now, because I heard them plan
this. So you go camp at the flower-house by-en-by, and I will
keep watch around the gates to see if they change their minds and
go out."
"What good will that be?" said his brother. "You didn't see
either of their faces."
"No, but I saw their pants," said Porky. "I can look at all the
legs, can't I? But they won't be there. I will watch to make
sure; but they will be right where they said, over by the
flower-house. See, they don't use any science. All they do is
get in a crowd, or back up against a good high wall, and tell
each other their real names. If we bring this across, I've a
mind for us to be detectives."
"There's the college education," Beany reminded him.
"Well," said Porky, "I suppose detectives ought to know a little
something. Come on back, I want a sandwich. I have lived on hot
dogs now for two days. Notice how small they are getting? The
dog part, I mean."
As they rounded the grandstand, a heavy automobile truck backed
up to something covered with a tarpaulin.
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