“He can’t be dyed very deep,” said Doc Carson, in that sober way of his; “because we haven’t any German dyes to dye him with.”

I was just going to say something to kid Pee-wee along, when I noticed that Mr. Ellsworth was very serious, and Pee-wee was staring like a ghost.

“Boys,” Mr. Ellsworth said, “I have no idea of the full meaning of this paper.”  Then he said how maybe in collecting books we had caught a spy in our net.  He said that he was going to take the paper anyway and show it to the Federal Commissioner, down in the Post Office Building.

“If he’s a spy, we’ll swat him all right,” I said.

“We’ll more than swat him,” Mr. Ellsworth said, and I could see by the look in his eye that he meant business.

CHAPTER III

SWATTING THE SPY—­CONTINUED

We didn’t swat him in that chapter because I had to go to supper, but we’ll surely swat him in this one.  Positively guaranteed.

Pee-wee was proud that he made such a hit with the old gentleman and especially because he got so many books from him.  But when he realized that the paper I found in one of the books had something to do with spying, it was all Mr. Ellsworth could do to keep him quiet.  He told us all not to say anything, because maybe, the old man might find out that he was going to be nabbed and go away.  I guess Pee-wee felt pretty important.  Anyway I know he was frightened, because all the next morning he kept asking me if he’d have to go to court and things like that.

“The only court you’ll go to, is the tennis court,” I told him; so we made up a set with my two sisters, Ruth and Marjorie, and the girls beat us three games.  While we were playing, along came Mr Ellsworth and Commissioner Terry with two strange men, and I could see Pee-wee was very nervous.  They sent the girls away and then began to ask Pee-wee questions.  I could see that they thought the discovery we made was pretty serious.

“Are you the boy that found the paper in the book?” they asked me.  Then they wanted to know what kind of a book it was, and I told them it was a book about German history and they screwed up their faces and looked very suspicious.

“You say that the man spoke broken English?” one of them asked Pee-wee.

Pee-wee was kind of nervous, I could see.  “It—­it—­well it wasn’t exactly broken,” he said.

“Just a little bent,” I said, and oh, you ought to have seen the frown Mr. Ellsworth gave me.

“It was kind of—­just a little—­” Pee-wee began.

“We understand,” one of the men said.  Then the other one spoke to us.  He said, “Boys, we want you to go over with us and we want this youngster to identify the man.  You needn’t be afraid, Uncle Sam is with you.”

But, cracky, I didn’t like it and I guess Pee-wee didn’t either.  I’ve read stories about boys that had men arrested and all that, and I always thought I’d like to be one of those regular heroes.  But when it came to really doing it, I knew then that I didn’t like to help arrest anybody, and I bet most real fellows feel the same way.  I felt funny, kind of.  That’s why I have no use for young detectives in stories, because I know you’ve got to be a grown-up man to feel that way and do things like that.