"I'M goin' to put mine in here, so's it'll come in handy when I haf to get at it." "Well, I guess I'll keep mine there, too," Sam said.

Thereupon he deposited his scribbled slip beside Penrod's in the cigarbox, and the box was solemnly returned to the secret place whence it had been taken.
"There, THAT'S 'tended to!" Sam said, and, unconsciously imitating his friend's imitation, he gave forth audibly a breath of satisfaction and relief.
Both boys felt that the financial side of their great affair had been conscientiously looked to, that the question of the reward was settled, and that everything was proceeding in a businesslike manner.

Therefore, they were able to turn their attention to another matter.
This was the question of Whitey's next meal.

After their exploits of the morning, and the consequent imperilment of Penrod, they decided that nothing more was to be done in apples, vegetables or bread; it was evident that Whitey must be fed from the bosom of nature.
"We couldn't pull enough o' that frostbit ole grass in the yard to feed him," Penrod said gloomily.

"We could work a week and not get enough to make him swaller more'n about twice.