THE LOST LETTER Then Elmer Sawyer (he's a Raven) came up to me and said, "He'll do it, Roy; don't worry.

And they'll get it too, because everybody in town is out these nights looking at the searchlights down the Hudson." That was one lucky thing.

A lot of cruisers and torpedo boats were down in the harbor and up the Hudson, and we could see their searchlights even in Bridgeboro.
Wig looked all around the cabin as if he was hunting for something and then he said, "No searchlight, I suppose." If we had only had a searchlight it would have been easy, but there wasn't any on board.
"Don't you care," Pee-wee said to me, "he'll think of a way." Oh, jiminy, but he was proud of Wig.

I could see that Wig was thinking and for just a few seconds it seemed as if he couldn't make up his mind what to do.
"Can you smudge it ?" Connie Bennett asked.
"Guess so," he said, "you fellows rip open the ends of these cushions, but don't tear the covering any, and somebody get the stove cleared out; see if there's a damper in the pipe, and see if there's any bilge under the flooring.

It'll take those fellows about twenty minutes to chug up to Bridgeboro." Well, in two seconds he had us all Hying every which way, Elks, Silver Foxes and all.