Then we all marched in, just as if nothing had happened—you know, kind of careless like.
Westy said, "Good morning, it's a beautiful afternoon this evening. Is dinner ready?"
The girls just couldn't speak, they were laughing so hard. Two of them were trying to pluck the feathers out of a couple of chickens, and by that I knew the worst hadn't happened. But they weren't paying much attention to their work; they were just bending backward and forward and screaming.
"L—l—look at him!" Grace Bentley just blurted out; "it's tooexcruciating!"
I said, "Pee-wee, don't ever quote the handbook to me again. 'A scout is kind.' You have deliberately murdered that poor omelet. Don't ever say you don't believe in frightfulness."
"You make me tired!" he yelled. "Didn't youtell me the way to flip—flop—didn't you say to catch—didn't you say to toss—graceful——"
"I said to toss it up gracefully," I told him, "and to let it turn over in the air and then to catch itinsidethe pan. But tell me this,please, so I can die in peace; what are you doing with the curling iron?"
"He was going to open—he was going to open—a—a—can," the girl they called Billie said, all the while trying not to laugh; "oh, dear me!"
"He wanted us to cut the chicken up to fr—fr—fr—fr—fry!" Grace Bentley screamed.
"Oh, he's a regular cut-up," Connie told her.
"He sm—sm—ashedthe potatoes so they—oh, just look at them!" one of the others managed to blurt out.
The kettle full of mashed potatoes looked as if a bomb had fallen into it; there were gobs of mashed potatoes all around on the trees and ground for about ten feet. It looked like a snowstorm.
"He flavored the onions with mosquito dope—cit—citronella," Pug Peters shrieked.
"Sure," Wig said; "a scout is resourceful."
"You all make me tired!" Pee-wee yelled; "how can you flip when you trip——"
"Walter," I said, very gentle and kind like, "take off your apron and ask for an armistice. It's your only hope; unconditional surrender. Here, give me the frying pan; look at the grease all down your leg, you're a sight."
I began gathering up the gobs of omelet from his head and his shoulders, while the girls sat on the ground all around and just laughed and laughed. Honest, I thought Pug Peters would have a fit, she laughed so hard. Grace Bentley nearly had hysterics.
"How can you—tell me this——?" Pee-wee yelled; "how can you trip—flip—if you flop—I mean trip—you make me sick. That could happen——"
"Sure, it could happen to Edison," I said; "you should worry. Get your apron off and your face washed before some of us die."
Poor kid, he was a wreck. We washed him up and brushed and cleaned his suit the best we could and collected all the odds and ends of omelet. Westy wanted to try to fit them together like a picture puzzle. That omelet looked like the map of Europe after the war. But one thing, the chickens were saved. In another ten minutes,I suppose, odds and ends of chicken would have been flying in the air.
Pug Peters said she was sorry, because she had been wanting to eat some of that omelet to see how it tasted. She said it had maple syrup in it.Good night!Grace Bentley told us there was peppermint extract in it, too. Anyway, it had an awful death.
From all we heard, about the only thing Pee-wee didn't use for flavoring was fountain pen ink. There was a bottle of glue there and I don't know how he happened to miss that. The mashed potatoes were flavored with strawberry, but they weren't so bad. The onions had a funny taste, too; kind of like pineapple. He had made some fried muffins, the same way that I usually did, and Westy and Connie and I had a good game of one o'cat with one of them. Westy knocked a home run and even that didn't break it.
As soon as the girls could manage to talk straight, they got busy plucking the chickens and we cut them up and fried them. Pee-wee retired from his strenuous career of cook and just sat by and watched us. He didn't say much. A scout knows when to keep still.
Maybe you think we didn't have a good dinner,but mm-mmm, that chicken was good. We boiled some more onions and added them to the others, so the pineapple flavoring wasn't so strong, and I flopped some flapjacks. I can make a flapjack do three summersaults and catch it. We ate the muffins, too, even though they were hard, because scouts are supposed not to be scared of things that are hard. They tasted sweet kind of, like marshmallows, and we decided that Scout Harris had used powdered sugar by mistake, instead of flour. Anyway, he said powdered sugar and flour looked alike. Especially we thought that was what he had done, because the sugar can had flour in it, and we put flour in our coffee. But anyway, it wasn't coffee. It was Indian meal. We should worry.
The girls were awful nice and I guess they were glad of everything that happened, because it made so much fun. Pee-wee didn't lose his pull with them, anyway, that was sure. They said he wasjust simply excruciating. Pug Peters said that anyway, the principal thing was for a scout to know how to eat, and Pee-wee didn't fall down there, you can bet.
A scout is hungry.
Now you'd think that after what happened, our young hero, P. Harris, wouldn't go hunting for any more glory for a couple of days. But late that very afternoon, he performed one of his most famous feats. It was an accident, but anyway, he scooped up all the credit. That's always the way it is with Pee-wee; things go his way, and then all of a sudden, zip goes the fillum, he's a boy hero.
After dinner that afternoon, we took a walk through the woods with the girls and helped them get some birch-bark, because they wanted to make birch-bark ornaments. It's dandy taking walks on Sundays. We got some hickory nuts, too. I said we'd climb the trees, because girls couldn't do things like that and scouts could climb. I said, "A scout is a monkey."
"Girls can do lots of things, too," Pee-weepiped up, oh, so nice and gallant; "do you mean to tell me girls aren't monkeys—too?"
"Don't, you'll start my head aching again," I told him.
"Oh, you said we were monkeys," Pug Peters said; "you're perfectlyhorrid."
"I mean, because on account of climbing," he said; "because they know how to climb. I mean,youknow, the ones that know how to climb——"
"Baboons," Westy said.
"Sure," Pee-wee piped up; "No, not baboons, you make me sick!"
"We accept your apology," I told him.
Every time Pee-wee opens his mouth he puts his foot in it—and then blames somebody else.
Late in the afternoon we left the girls at their camp. We said we'd come over to see them next day—that was Columbus Day. But the way it happened, we didn't see them again until a long time afterwards, and that's going to be in another story. So if you like girls, you'd better be sure to get the next story. Gee whiz, I used to make fun of girls, but anyway, I like them a lot. Pee-wee says they're so kind of hospital; he means hospitable. And I'll always rememberCamp Smile Awhile,you can bet. Because we had more than a good smile there; we had a good laugh. Girls are all right.
Then we hiked along the woods' path that led around the lake, back to Ridgeboro. Our car looked mighty nice and cosy, you can bet, as we came along.
"We're having a mighty good time here," Connie said; "I'll be sorry when we have to drag ourselves away."
"We don't have to drag ourselves away," I told him; "all we have to do is to sit still and be dragged away."
"This is the life," Westy said.
Connie said, "Sure, life on the rails; it's got life on the ocean wave beaten a hundred ways. When do you suppose they'll pick us up?"
"Tuesday morning is the first freight," I told him. "There's a passenger train to-morrow night, but it doesn't stop here, see?" And I showed him the time table.
"We should worry," I said; "we've got nearly twenty dollars from the movie show. I've got Mr. Temple's fifty sealed up in an envelope; we're supposed to forget that. Guess I might as well keep the time table, hey?"
"I bet it's fun living on the railroad," Wig said.
"I'd like to be a brakeman," Pee-wee shouted.
"That would be a good job for you," I told him; "you make so many breaks. I think you ought to be cook on a dining car."
"It's dangerous working on a railroad," Connie said; "lots of men lose their lives; sometimes they lose their hands or their fingers, too."
"If you lose your life, what's the use of keeping your fingers?" Westy said.
"Sure," I said; "they would only be a nuisance."
"But I mean it," Connie said; "I heard that. If a man works on a railroad long enough he gets killed."
"If he lives long enough he dies," I said.
"There's a large percentage of mortality," Connie said.
"A large which of whatness?" I asked him; "stand up and speak clearly so all the class can hear."
"All right," he said; "it's true."
"It's all right if you have your private car," Wig said. "All you have to do is to sit back and take it easy."
"Sure, if you're in your private car it's all right," Connie said.
By that time we had come to the car and Pee-wee was the first one to go up the steps. Now I don't know whether maybe it was because we had been talking about railroading that Pee-wee thought he'd play brakeman, but anyway, like the crazy kid he was, as soon as he was on the platform he grabbed the wheel that's connected with the brake and turned it out of its ratchet and twirled it around, shouting, "All aboard! All aboard!"
"Let that thing alone," I said, as the rest of us passed into the car.
"There isn't any spark in it," he shouted. Crinkums, that kid is crazy.
He followed us into the car and we all sprawled down into seats, because we were good and tired.
Westy said, "Oh, boy, it's good to sit down. I wonder if our friend Eb Brewster was here. Next stop is the Land of Nod. I don't want any supper."
"G—o—o—d night!" Connie said; "I'll be hanged if we're not moving."
Just then, I looked out and saw the closed up store sneaking slowly away.
facing096WIG AND I GRABBED THE WHEEL AND TURNED IT AS FAST AS WE COULD.Ray Blakeley's Camp on Wheels.Page97
WIG AND I GRABBED THE WHEEL AND TURNED IT AS FAST AS WE COULD.Ray Blakeley's Camp on Wheels.Page97
"Bye-bye, Ridgeboro," Wig shouted; "see you later."
By now the car was moving along at a pretty good clip. The store was 'way behind us and we were rolling sweetly down a grade into a kind of jungle of bushes and tree stumps.
"Good night!" I said; "The plot grows thicker. Where are we at?"
We fell all over each other getting out to the platform, and Wig and I grabbed the wheel and turned it as fast as we could, tightening up the chain.
"I thought you said it didn't have any spark in it," I said to Pee-wee.
"I—Ithoughtit didn't," he blurted out; "where are we going?"
"Ask me something easy," I said; "get out of the way. Grab hold of this, Westy, and pull for all you're worth."
We had the chain tight now and it was only a case of pulling the brakes tight against the wheels, but, oh, boy, that takes some strength. We were rolling along an old pair of rails that were buried under grass and bushes and sometimes we couldn't even see them. It was a regular jungle. I guess maybe they used to back freight cars down thereafter lumber. But it must have been a long time ago, because the stumps were old and the place was all overgrown. Anyway, that track that we had been left on was more than just a switch siding, that was sure.
First I didn't mind so much, because things like that are all in the game, and I thought it would be easy to stop the car. There was hardly any grade at all where the train had left us, that was sure, but it doesn't take much of a grade to start things moving on tracks. I guess that's why they always tighten the brakes when they leave a car. And if there's one person that knows how to start things, it's Pee-wee. That's his favorite recreation.
Anyway, now we saw that we were in a pretty bad fix. The grade was good and steep now and we were moving pretty fast, and no matter how hard we pulled on the wheel, it didn't seem to make the car slow down. I have to admit I was getting a little scared. I guess the other fellows were, too.
"Maybe the thick brush will slow us down," Westy said; "it's awful thick, ahead."
"Not when we've got a start like this," I told him; "we're just cutting it all to pieces."
"Maybe one of us could jump off and put a log on the track," Pee-wee said.
"Yes, and what would happen to the car, and us maybe?" Connie asked him. "You've done mischief enough for one day.Look ahead there!"
Jumping Christopher! There, about a hundred feet in front of us was a road crossing the tracks and a little further, beyond the road, was some water. I guess it was an arm of the lake. Anyway, the tracks ran right downhill to the very edge of it. The car was going too fast for us to jump off now.
Nearer and nearer we rolled, all the while yanking for dear life on the wheel. All of a sudden I had a thought.
"Run through to the back platform and if the wheel there is loose, tighten up that one, too. Quick!" I said.
Connie and Westy ran pell-mell through the car and I heard the jangling of the chain there and I could hear Connie say, "Quick! Pull hard—harder!"
Then, after a few seconds the car began slowing down.
"Pull with all your might," I said to the fellows with me; "you fellows, too," I called out; "she's letting up; pull—hard!"
The car kept slowing down.
"Yank! Hard!" Connie called through to us, "and hold on. Brace your feet."
The car moved slower, slower; then stopped.
"Kick the ratchet-pin in—hurry up!" somebody said, and I pushed it into place with my foot.
"All right, let go."
The car was standing right square across the road, but anyway, that was better than being in the water. Any port in a storm, hey?
I guess our nerves were all pretty much unstrung, anyway, I know my hands were good and sore.
"I thought we were goners," Westy said; "this is a nice place to stop. It's good they don't have any traffic cops here."
"I should worry where we stop," I said; "it's better than the lake. We stopped here because we stopped here. I never knew that Brewster's Centre had so much pep in it. This old station will go up in the air next. What do you say we get an anchor?"
"Where are we?" Pee-wee piped up.
"We'rehere, that's all I can tell you," I said.
"If you want to know wherehereis, look in the geography."
"We're neither here nor there," Westy said; "look at my hands, they're all blisters."
"Where do we go from here?" Connie wanted to know.
"I guess we take a southwesterly course and flow into the sink," I told him.
"Brewster's Centre ran away from home," Wig said. "Lost, strayed or stolen. We don't know where we are; we're in the middle of the road. Just like we said before, we're here, because we're here."
We all sat down on the steps of the platform and Wig started singing:
"Oh, there was the Duke of Yorkshire,He had ten thousand men;He marched them up the hill,And he marched them down again.And when they're up, they're up,And when they're down, they're down;And when they're only half way up,They're neither up nor down."
"Oh, there was the Duke of Yorkshire,He had ten thousand men;He marched them up the hill,And he marched them down again.And when they're up, they're up,And when they're down, they're down;And when they're only half way up,They're neither up nor down."
Pretty soon, while we were sitting there, we all started to make up words to the same tune, and after a while this is what we got to singing:
"Oh, there was young Pee-wee Harris (Cook),That ran a movie show.He loosed the brake of a station-car,To see where he would go.And when he'd roll, he'd roll,And when he'd stop, he'd stop.And he stopped right in the middle of the road,Where there wasn't any traffic cop."
"Oh, there was young Pee-wee Harris (Cook),That ran a movie show.He loosed the brake of a station-car,To see where he would go.And when he'd roll, he'd roll,And when he'd stop, he'd stop.And he stopped right in the middle of the road,Where there wasn't any traffic cop."
"Suppose an automobile should come along," Connie said.
"That's a very good idea," I told him; "suppose one should."
Westy was sitting up on the top step and he said, "Oh, Sister Anne, Sister Anne, I think I can see one scooting along through the woods, the other side of the lake."
"Let it scoot," I said; "the only way it can get past here is to do a couple of double flops like Pee-wee's omelet."
"It can't get around on account of the woods," Pee-wee said.
"Right the first time, as usual," I told him. "Over the topis the only way. I hope it's a high-grade car, because a low-grade car could never get over such a high place."
"We had a narrow escape," Wig said
"If the machine doesn't stop, we'll stop it," Connie put in.
"Sure," I said, "we have a good argument."
"Brewster's Centre is getting to be a famous name," Westy said.
Connie said, "Sure, we're getting to be known in all the highways and byways—especially the highways. What do you say we give a movie show right here?"
"Vetoed," I told him.
We sat on the platform steps talking and jollying each other; what did we care? Be it ever so much in the wrong place, there's no place like home. Maybe you've read stories about boys running away from home for adventures, but our home was a good sport, it went with us. It had a good name, too, Brewster's Centre. Because it was right plunk in the center of the road.
Pretty soon Westy shouted, "Here comes the car. See it? You can see it right through the trees. It's green and red."
"It'll be black and blue if it tries to get past here," Wig said.
It was a great big touring car and its bright brass lights and trimmings were all shiny on account of the sun setting and shining right on them. It came rolling along, about fifty miles an hour, out from the woods, and then even faster as it hitit up along the straight road. Oh, boy, didn't it just eat up the miles!
I guess it must have been getting over the ground at about sixty per, when it began slowing down and stopped about a dozen yards from our car. Oh, bibbie, that was some peachy machine.
There were two young fellows in it, and I could see that they were pretty tough looking. Both of them wore sweaters and one had on one of those peaked caps like tough fellows in the movies always wear. They waited just a minute and spoke to each other very excited like. Then they both looked around, back along the road.
Next, the fellow with the cap jumped down in a big hurry and looked back along the road, better than he could do in the car. He seemed awful kind of scared and excited. He came over toward us, walking kind of sideways, you know, tough.
He said, "What's the matter here? Why don't they move this car? Yez are blockin' up the road, yez are. Where's the en-jine?"
I wasn't scared of him. I said, "The en-jine is having a nap. Don't talk so loud or you'll wake it up."
"Yez are a pretty fresh lot, ain't yez?" he said. "Where's the men belongin' ter this she-bang, anyway? Yez is blockin' traffic." Then he looked up the road again and said to the other fellow: "Don't see nuthin' of 'em, do yer? Keep your eyes peeled." He seemed awful nervous and in a hurry.
Just then I noticed Westy get up and step down off the car. "Get them inside if you can," Westy whispered as he passed me.
I didn't know for the life of me what he meant. But there's something about Westy, he's awful kind of thoughtful. Maybe you've read how a scout is supposed to be observant. Well, that's Westy all over.
I said to the fellow, "The railroad hasn't got anything to do with this car; it belongs to us. And you can bet we weren't thinking about where it stopped, either. It's better to be here than in the lake."
He just shouted to the other fellow, "Come here, hurry up!" Then he craned his neck and looked back along the road. The other fellow got down from the auto in a hurry and came to the car, looking behind him all the while.
One thing, I could see that those fellows were scared and in a terrible hurry, and I decided that probably they had stolen the machine. I thought that, not only because they were always looking back, because they might have expected to be chased just for speeding, but because they were so tough looking. Anyway, they were pretty low-grade fellows to be in such a high-grade car, thatwas one sure thing. Besides, I knew that the fellow that was running that car wasn't the regular chauffeur, because the regular chauffeur of a car always kind of slides out very easy without rubbing against the steering gear. One thing sure, you can always tell if a man is used to running a car, especially some particular car.
Both fellows were on the platform now, and the one that came first said, "What yez doin' here; blockin' the road?"
I guess I shouldn't have told them anything, but I said, "We rolled down from near the store up there and it was lucky we managed to stop right here, or we'd have been in the lake. It's no easy job managing those brakes."
"No?" he said, kind of funny, and then looked at the other fellow.
Then they both went inside and I could see one of them looked out of the window up the road, while the other threw his cap on the floor and put on Connie's scout hat that was hanging in the car. He whispered to the other fellow and then the other fellow turned around and grabbed Wig's hat off his head and put it on his own head.
"Run her down, that's the only thing," one ofthem said; "and blamed quick about it, too. You kids git off'er this car if you don't want to be drowned."
I saw what they were going to do. They went out on the other platform and kicked the ratchet out and let the wheel spin. But the car didn't move. Then they came through to do the same thing to the other one. They were going to start the car and jump off. I knew it would start right away, because the grade was so steep. I stood right there in the aisle, blocking their way and I said:
"This car belongs to us and you're not going to run it into the lake. Maybe you heard of Mr. John Temple; he gave it to us. If you start it, you won't be able to stop it. Maybe it's worth more than that auto for all you know. Anyway, it is to us, and you're not going to run it into the lake—you're not."
He just swore and hit me in the face and I went staggering against one of the seats. Everything went all whizzing around and for a couple of seconds my head buzzed so that I couldn't stand up straight. But even still I wasn't scared of him and I followed them and the other fellows out onto the other platform.
"Git off the car, all of yez," I heard one of them say.
My head was buzzing and I felt awful cold and queer like, but I had sense enough to notice Westy sitting there on the railing of the platform, dangling his legs. I guess he must have been waiting there. As long as I live, I'll never forget how calm and quiet he was, and not scared of them at all. I was so dizzy from the crack on the head that fellow gave me, that I had to hold on to the railing and Westy looked as if he were shaking as he sat on it. But it was only because I was dizzy. I saw the two fellows grab the wheel and Connie and Pee-wee and Wig jump off the car. But Westy didn't move, only sat there swinging his legs and kind of smiling at those two.
"You're a couple of big cowards, that's what you are," he said; "to hit a fellow his size. And you're a couple of crazy fools, too. That's what you are; a couple of low down fools and cowards—and thieves."
For just a second they let go the wheel and stared at him, but he didn't move; just sat there watching them and swinging his legs.
"And what's the use of going to all that trouble?" Westy said. "You'll only make it worsefor yourselves. Do you think that boy scouts are fools, just because you can hit one of them on the head and knock him out of your way? I've got two good snapshots of both of you and I hid the camera, and if you choked me, I wouldn't tell you where it is. See? That old Pierce-Arrow is here because it's here. See? And it's going to stay here, too. I just threw your spark plugs into the lake. If you hadn't been a couple of big fools you wouldn't have stepped inside this car.Steal a Pierce-Arrow!You make me laugh. You couldn't even get away with a Ford."
And he just sat there, swinging his legs and laughing. It was as good as a circus to see him.
"Go ahead, run," he said; "it won't do you any good. Sink this car in the lake if you want to. That'll just mean a longer time in jail. We should worry. You thought a boy scout didn't know how to hit back, didn't you? Let's see you start the machine. You're a couple of circus clowns, that's what you are. You ought to be a pair of villains in the movies. Head hurt much, Roy?"
"Not so bad now," I told him.
Gee whiz, those fellows didn't wait long. Before Westy was finished speaking they were off the car and headed into the woods. That was the last we saw of them, then.
"Did you ever hear of a thief stopping to have his picture taken?" Westy asked.
"If they'd have only stayed a little longer, we could have got them in the movie camera andwe could have a play calledThe Robbers' Regret," Pee-wee piped up, "or,The Missing Spark Plugs."
"Oh, they're not missing," Westy said; "they're just hiding, disguised as an oil can. Waste not, want not, hey?"
Do you know what that fellow had done—all while we were in the car? Talk about a scout being quick! He had got the snapshots while those two fellows were on the platform. Then he had hid the camera in the bushes. But he wanted to make sure that they wouldn't find the plugs, so he put them into an oil can that he had found under the hood of the machine and tied a piece of wire to the can. He tied the other end of the wire to the root of a bush on the shore. And all that he did while the fellows were in the car. What do you know about that?
So now he just fished them up and cleaned them out and put them back where they belonged. Then we all sat in the Pierce-Arrow waiting to see what would happen next. Right in front of us was that old car with the sign all along its side.
Buffalo 398 Mls.—BREWSTER'S CENTER—N. Y. 30 Mls.
Buffalo 398 Mls.—BREWSTER'S CENTER—N. Y. 30 Mls.
Pretty soon we got to singing, and for a little while everybody was singing something different from everybody else, but after a few minutes we got settled down to this:
"There was the Brewster's Centre car,That traveled here and there;It had a lot of adventures, too,And we don't have to pay any fare.And when it's here, it's here,And when it's there, it's there;And when it isn't any place,Why then it's everywhere.And if it isn't on the ground,You'll find it up in the air;And if it goes to the moon or Mars,A plaguey lot we care!"
"There was the Brewster's Centre car,That traveled here and there;It had a lot of adventures, too,And we don't have to pay any fare.And when it's here, it's here,And when it's there, it's there;And when it isn't any place,Why then it's everywhere.And if it isn't on the ground,You'll find it up in the air;And if it goes to the moon or Mars,A plaguey lot we care!"
"You can talk about tents and log cabins and house-boats and things," Connie said; "but I'm for that old car. It's stood byus."
"Stood!" I said. "Good night, it hasn't stood very long anywhere; not since we had it."
"It's full of pep," Connie said.
"Always on the go," I told him; "it's different from other cars. It reminds meof Pee-wee. I wonder where we'll go next."
"Sure, I wonder what's the next step in our itinerary," Connie said. Boy, but that fellow is some high brow.
"Our whaterary?" I asked him.
"Anyway, it's nice sitting here," Wig said.
"I wonder who it belongs to?" Pee-wee said. "I bet it belongs to a rich millionaire."
"Yes, or a poor one," Connie said. "There's only one thing I don't like about this Pierce-Arrow, and that's that I don't own it. Otherwise, it's all right."
"There's one thingIdon't like about it," I said.
"You're crazy!" Pee-wee shouted. "What don't you like about a Pierce-Arrow?"
"One great objection," I said.
"You must be crazy," he yelled. "You can bet I haven't got any objections to a Pierce-Arrow."
"That's because you're not as honest as I am," I said.
"Who? Me?" he hollered.
"The only thing I have against this machine is that it's stolen," I said. "I'm funny that way."
"You make me sick," Pee-wee said.
"I'd feel the same way about a flivver," I said.
"If you took a flivver, that wouldn't be stealing," Connie said; "it would be shoplifting."
"Sure, or pickpocketing," Wig said.
"Do you know the only way to tell if a man has a Ford?" I asked Pee-wee. "Search him. Look how the sun is going down."
The Brewster's Centre sign was all bright on account of the sun setting. It was getting dark and kind of cold and it made me homesick, sort of. It seemed funny to see that car standing there across that strange road, with the lake on one side and the thick woods on the other. The woods were beginning to look dark and gloomy, and the arm of the lake was all steel color. I was glad on account of that sign, because it seemed friendly, like. That's one thing about an automobile, it doesn't seem friendly, like. But boats do. And the old car did, that was one sure thing.
Mostly scouts don't care much about railroads, because they like the water and they like to hike. But anyway, that old car was friendly. Especially it seemed friendly on account of the sun going down and the day beginning to die and it getting cold. You can talk about boats and motorcycles and tents and leaf shelters and all those things, but anyway, none of them were as good as thatold car. And don't you forget, either, that it was Westy that saved it for us. If it hadn't been for him, it would have been in the lake.
He's one real scout, Westy is.
We were singing that crazy stuff that we had made up, when all of a sudden, along came an automobile with four men in it, and stopped right behind us. We heard one of them say, "Why, that's the car, now."
They all jumped down and came around the big Pierce-Arrow and stood staring up at us. They stared at the Brewster's Centre car, too; I guess they didn't know what to make of it.
One of the men said, "What's all this? What are you boys doing with that machine?"
As long as none of the other fellows said anything, I spoke up and said, "We're boy scouts and we're sitting here."
"Boy scouts!" he said, all flabbergasted.
"Right the first time," I told him; "we rescued this car from two fellows that were trying to get away with it. You see that railroad car? That belongs to us."
"We're going to have a deed to it," Pee-wee shouted.
"Sure," I said; "a dark and bloody deed. We just happened to be there, because we rolled down the grade from Ridgeboro. Believe me, I've been through eight different grades in school, but this one was the worst I ever saw. We came near taking a header into the lake, but we got the brakes on just in time. You get a fine view of the car from here, don't you?"
"I'm the sheriff of this county," the man said. "You say you stopped this machine?"
"We can stop any machine, even a Rolls-Royce," I told him.
"Yes?" he said.
"You'd better ask this fellow how it was," I said, pointing to Westy.
"We stopped them, that's all," Westy said. That was just like him.
"Well then,I'lltell you," I said. "When they said they couldn't get by, they wanted to run our car down into the lake. What did they care?"
"But wefoiledthem," Pee-wee shouted.
"Foiled them, hey?" the sheriff said. Gee, he couldn't help smiling.
Then I just grabbed Westy's head and pulledit where the men could see. "When they were on the railroad car," I said, "this fellow took the spark plugs out of the machine and hid them in the lake."
One of the men blurted out, "What!"
"That's nothing," Pee-wee started; "once——"
"He got a couple of snapshots of them, too," I said; "maybe they'll be of some use to you."
"Hey, Mister, can this machine do eighty miles an hour?" Wig piped up.
"Seventy," the man said.
"Y—a—a—h!What did I tell you?" Connie said, giving him a rap on the head.
"Maybe you'll be able to catch them, hey?" Connie said. "Anyway, I hope so, because one of them hit this fellow a good whack on the head."
"So?" said the man. "Well, we'll take care of that pair. It won't be hard, with their pictures. They're a couple of the most desperate auto thieves and highwaymen in this state. You boys did a fine thing. You deserve great credit."
"That's nothing," Pee-wee said; "once when——"
"Which way did they go?" the men asked.
So then we told them all there was to tell, and about our car, and about how we were broughtout to Ridgeboro by mistake. They were in so much of a hurry that I thought they'd just let our car roll down into the water, so that they could get by. But anyway, they didn't do that. I guess they liked us, because we did them a good turn.
As soon as Westy gave them the film out of his pocket camera, they lifted a big heavy log across the tracks near the water. They said they thought they could let the car roll easily against that, without any danger of its going on down into the water. You bet we were nervous till we saw them do it, and then we realized that probably those thieves could have done the same thing, except that they didn't care anything about other people's property.
The men thought that the two fellows would cut through the woods and come out at a town named Skunk Hollow. Ozone Valley, that was the new name of it. So we all went in the two cars to that place, because a train stopped there at about half-past eight, and they thought that maybe those fellows would take the train.
I don't know which went faster, the automobiles or Pee-wee's tongue. Anyway, Pee-wee's tongue was running on high. He sat behind me in the bigmachine, wedged in between two big deputy sheriffs, and he told every heroic act that scouts have done since the movement started. Blamed if I know how he finds those things out, but he does. He gave them Westy's whole history and told how Tom Slade won the gold cross and how burglars and highwaymen weren't safe any more, on account of the Boy Scouts. Every time they told him it was wonderful, he would say, "That's nothing," and come right back with a five reeler. Oh, boy, I thought I'd die, but I guess the sheriffs liked it. Anyway, they laughed a lot.
Pee-wee told them about a scout in the dismal north (that's what he called it) that rescued a maiden. He told them a maiden was something like a girl, "only more kind of pale and weak and helpless, like." I nearly doubled up.
But anyway, he didn't mention cooking.
When we got to the Ozone Valley station, there wasn't anything there, but the ozone and a couple of milk cans. The men searched all around in the woods and under the freight platform, but they couldn't find the two fellows.
"Don't you get discouraged," Pee-wee told them; "often I couldn't find things and then later they'd turn up."
"Oh, they'll turn up," the sheriff said; "and they'llgoup, too. Just give us a chance to get those films developed."
Pretty soon the train came along, going toward Skiddyunk. It was a way train and I guess it stopped every now and then to change its mind. It had a couple of baggage cars and a couple of freight cars and a refrigerator car and one passenger car at the end. There were only a few people in the car.
The sheriffs searched the whole train, but theycouldn't find the two fellows anywhere. They even searched the refrigerator car, but I didn't think they'd be there, because they were fresh enough without going on ice.
The conductor was a big fat man; he was awful nice. When the sheriffs told him about us, he laughed and said, "That's funny; I have a bill for that car; I'm going to pick it up to-night."
I said, "We heard there wasn't a freight on the Slopson Branch till Tuesday morning. We don't exactly want to go back yet."
He said, "Well now, Sonny, you see I haven't got any say about it. I get a bill and that's all there is to it. There might be a freight out of Slopson to-morrow or the next day, and then again, there might not. You could come near sending the whole of Slopson by Parcels Post. I've heard about you kids and I've got word to look after you. You're mighty lucky you didn't all go kerflop into the lake."
"How soon is there another train through here?" the sheriff asked him.
"Twelve-fifteen, if she's on time," the conductor said; "she's a through from Buffalo."
"Believe me," I said; "that's one town I knowsomething about—Buffalo. I'll never forget Buffalo, 398 Mls." They all laughed.
"She doesn't stop here, does she?" the sheriff asked.
"Stops at Skiddyunk for water," the conductor said. "She passes us down at Red Hill siding."
The sheriff said, "I guess two of us had better watch the station here and be on the safe side in case she slows down, and the other two will go down in one of the machines and keep an eye out at Skiddyunk. They might get on there. We'll probably beat you to Skiddyunk, but if we don't, nab 'em if they get on. They're going to try to get away from these parts, I know that."
I was just thinking we'd have to hike back along the road to our little Home Sweet Home, when the conductor said, "Hop on, you boys."
When we got to Skiddyunk, the sheriff and one of his men were already there. But there wasn't any sign of the two fellows. Then the train started backing up along the Slopson Branch and the two sheriffs stayed on it. Pretty soon we were back almost to where we had started from. There wasn't any station at Ridgeboro, but the sheriffs looked all around the closed-up store, in the wood-shed and under the platform. Then the train backed down the siding and very gently bunked into the Brewster's Centre car. There were men swinging lights and shouting to each other, while one coupled our car to the train. Then there was a lot more shouting and swinging lights and then we started.
We stood on the back platform of our own car and I could see the moon just beginning to shine on the part of the lake that we were moving away from. The wheels rattled, rattled; and it seemed kind of as if the car was sayingso long, so long, so long——
Pretty soon, away across the lake, we could see a light and we knew it was the fire atCamp Smile Awhile. Then we passed the store that was all closed up tight and I said, "so long, store. So long,Camp Smile Awhile." And while we stood out there on the back platform, the wheels kept saying, "S'long, s'long, s'long, s'long, s'long...."
Gee whiz, I was sorry.
One thing sure, those auto thieves weren't on our train; they didn't get on at any of those three places, Ozone Valley or Ridgeboro or Skiddyunk. The two sheriffs got off at Skiddyunk again, to keep a watch when the late train came through. The Skiddyunk Station was all dark. As we left it the wheels kept saying, "s'long, s'long," and pretty soon we couldn't see it at all, and I knew that the country where we had had so much fun was way back there in the dark and that probably we'd never see it any more.
That was a single-track railroad and as we stood on the back platform, we could see the two shiny rails going away back into the dark.
"Let's go and sit down," I said; "I'm tired."
We had a shoe box full of eats that the girls atCamp Smile Awhilehad given us and, yum, yum, those sandwiches were good.
Pretty soon a brakeman came staggeringthrough, holding onto the seats. He had a red lantern and he hung it on the back platform. "So's the flyer won't bunk her nose into us," he said.
"Reg'lar private car, you kids got," he said.
I said, "When do you think we'll get to Bridgeboro, New Jersey?"
"Depends on the out trains from New York," he said; "we get in about three. No telling how long you'll stand in the yards. If you're picked up pretty quick, you ought to be home in time for breakfast. But there's no telling with a dead special."
I said, "You don't call this car a dead one, do you? You ought to have seen the adventures it had."
He laughed and said, "A dead special is a pickup. It ain't carried straight through. It's picked up and laid down and picked up. See?"
"We should worry when we get home," I said.
"You'll get there," he said, nice and pleasant; "don't you worry."
"Worry?" Connie said. "That must be a Greek word; I never heard it."
He was an awful nice fellow, that brakeman.
Pretty soon we were all sprawling on the seats, started on our favorite indoor sport, jollying Pee-wee. The train went through a pretty wild country and sometimes we could look way down into deep valleys, and sometimes mountains went right up straight from the tracks and seemed like walls outside the windows.
Wig said, "To-morrow is Columbus Day."
"Right the first time," I told him; "I wish we weren't going to get home 'till Tuesday."
"What's the difference between Tuesday?" Connie wanted to know.
"Is it a conundrum?" I said.
"No, it's an adverb, I mean a proverb," he said.
"Tuesday andwhat?" Pee-wee shouted.
"Tuesday and nothing," Connie said; "just Tuesday. Ask me the answer to it."
"You're crazy," Pee-wee shouted; "what's the answer to it?"
Connie said, "There isn't any answer. Want to hear another? How many onions are there?"
"Where?" Pee-wee yelled.
"Anywhere," Connie said.
"That shows how much sense you have," the kid screamed.
I laughed so hard I nearly fell off the seat.
"What's the cause of tears?" Connie said right back at him.
"What?" Pee-wee asked him.
"Crying," Connie said. "Why is the sky blue?"
"Why is it?" the kid shouted.
"It isn't," Connie said; "look out of the window, it's black."
"That isn't a riddle," Pee-wee shouted.
"It's a fact," Connie said; "what's the answer to a question?"
"You make me tired," the kid screamed; "what kind of a question?"
"Any kind," Connie said; "how fast is a mile?"
"A mile isn't fast, you crazy Indian!" Pee-wee screamed at him. "That shows——"
"All right, how slow is it then?" Connie asked him. "Suppose I have my picture taken."
"Well, what?" the kid blurted out.
"Nothing," Connie said.
"You said, suppose you had your picture taken," Pee-wee screamed.
"All right, suppose I did; what of it?" Connie laughed.
"He's got a right to have his picture taken, hasn't he?" I said. "You can take mine if you'll bring it back."
"You're all crazy," Pee-wee shouted; "you don't know a riddle when you see one. Do you call those riddles? A riddle is something where you ask a question and the answer, kind of, means something else."