I was very glad to send it to you, Mr. Ricks, because I knew
its receipt would make you very happy, and I like to scatter happiness
wherever I can. The Scriptures say we should return good for evil."
Cappy Ricks bounded to his feet and shook a skinny fist under Matt
Peasley's nose.
"You're a damned scoundrel!" he piped, beside himself with rage. "Be
careful how you talk to me, young man, or I'll lose my temper; and if
I ever do--"
"That would be terrible, wouldn't it?" Matt laughed. "I suppose you'd
just haul off and biff me one, and I'd think it was autumn with the
leaves falling!"
Cappy choked, turned purple, sat down again, and glanced covertly at
Mr. Skinner, who returned the glance with one that seemed to shout
aloud: "Mr. Ricks, I smell a rat as big as a Shetland pony.
Something has slipped and we're covered with blood. Incredible as it
may seem, this rowdy Peasley has outthought us!"
"Did you get the letter we sent Captain Grant at Panama?" Skinner
managed to articulate presently.
Matt nodded affirmatively.
"Opened it, I suppose!" Cappy accused him.
Matt nodded negatively, produced the letter from his pocket and handed
it to Cappy.
"Where I was raised," he said gently, "they taught boys that it was
wrong to read other people's private correspondence.
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