Now you’d better look on the map I made. Maybe it isn’t much good, but it’s better than the map of Europe. Our car was over about in the middle of the Sneezenbunker land. Because we didn’t want to take the reward from the Orphan Home for finding the inventor, my father said we could offer Tony fifty dollars to move his wagon for a little while. Fifty dollars would buy five hundred sandwiches. It would buy a thousand pieces of pie. We didn’t have any trouble with Tony that time.
Now Mr. Jenson moved his locomotive very slowly past where Slausen’s used to stand, and right across Willow Place. It pushed our car ever so little. The brakeman stood on the front platform of our car and stopped it with the brakes. He said they worked pretty good. Then the locomotive pushed the car about a couple of hundred feet so as to give it a good start, and then backed away from it.
We all stood there shouting, “Hurrah!” “All aboard for Van Schlessenhoff’s field!”
The brakeman was the only one on the car. Now this is just exactly what happened. The car moved along into the marsh and pretty soon we could only see the upper part of it on account of the cat-tails. When it got to about the middle of the marsh it stopped. We followed along the tracks and when we got to where the car was, the brakeman said he had slowed it down because the trestle was shaky and he was afraid it would give way. He had slowed the car down too much and it had stopped. He said he was sorry, but he had to go back to his train.
So there was our car, right in the middle of Cat-tail Marsh, with the cat-tails growing up close all around it, and the mosquitoes mobilizing for a grand drive. We knew Mr. Jenson couldn’t help us any more, because that trestle would never hold his big locomotive.
“This is a nice fix we’re in,” Westy said. “We’ll be eaten up here.”
“What do we care?” Pee-wee shouted. As long as there was some question of eats it didn’t make any difference to him where we were.
I said, “I’m not talking about you eating; I’m talking about the mosquitoes. Wait till the sun goes down, there’ll be nothing left of us, if we stay here.”
“Well, let’s be thankful the car didn’t go down, anyway,” one of the fellows said.
“Sure, it might be worse,” another one of them shouted.
I said, “Oh, sure, this is a fine place for a scout headquarters. There’s only one better place that I know of and that’s on top of a volcano.”
“Can we go on top of a volcano?” the inventor wanted to know.
“Not this afternoon,” I told him.
“This is a dickens of a place to spend the summer,” they all began saying. “What are we going to do? We can’t get the car either way now. It might just as well have broken through the trestle and gone down into the marsh. It’s no good to us here.”
“I say let’s leave it here and come on up to Temple Camp,” Hunt Manners said. “We’ve had trouble enough with it. Let it stay here and rot.”
I said, “Don’t let’s get discouraged. Consider the busy little mosquitoes. See how happy they are.”
“Sure,” Westy said; “and so would we be if we were in their shoes.”
“In theirshoes?” Pee-wee yelled.
“They ought to wear rubbers down here,” I said. “Let’s have a meeting of the general staff to decide what we’ll do. We’re in the midst of the enemies.”
Dorry Benton said, “I vote that we go inside and shut the doors and the windows. S—lap! There’s one.”
All around we could hear bzzzzzzz, bzzzzz——
I said, “S—lap! There goes another.”
“Bzzzzzz—sl—ap!” Gee whiz, that was all I could hear. We looked like a class in physical training.
“Come on inside,” I said. “This is getting terrible.”
It wasn’t so bad inside with the doors and windows shut. We chased some of them out and killed a lot of others. It was our lives against theirs.
“Don’t give them any quarter,” one fellow shouted.
“Don’t give them even a dime,” I said.
“Don’t give them a cent,” Pee-wee shouted, slapping at them right and left.
Talk about the Huns! Oh, boy!
After a terrible massacre we got most of them out of the car. Then we sat down to talk about what we had better do. We were in a pretty bad fix, that was sure. It looked as if that was the end of our dear old car, anyway for a meeting place in the summer, because we couldn’t stand against an army of several million billions. A scout is brave, but——
It was quite late in the afternoon and we were getting hungry. The mosquitoes had finished their supper. I hope they enjoyed it. Pretty soon it began to rain outside and the wind began to blow. One good thing, it blew the mosquitoes away. That hour or so that we spent in the car behind closed doors is known in scout history as the Siege of Cat-tail Marsh. And, believe me, we didn’t like it very much. I’m not so stuck on history anyway.
“One thing sure, I won’t desert this car,” Pee-wee said. “It’s our car and I’m going to stick to it. I’m not going to leave it here to rot after all the fun we’ve had in it.”
I said, “You’re welcome to take it with you for all I care. Maybe you know some new kind of strategy to move it. I don’t see that our appetites are going to do us any good down here. Here’s the car in the middle of the marsh and that’s all there is to it. If there should happen to be an earthquake maybe that would move it.”
“Let’s have an earthquake,” the inventor piped up.
“Maybe when the earth revolves a little it will start the car, hey?” Pee-wee shouted. “Maybe if we wait till to-morrow morning——”
”Suppose it starts it back and we bunk into Tony’s lunch wagon?” Dorry Benton said.
“The earth is moving the other way,” Pee-wee shouted.
Westy said, “Well, here’s an end to all our fine plans, that’s sure. I don’t see what we can do. In the winter it won’t be so bad down here, but now—s—lap, there’s another.”
“He must have come in through the glass,” I said.
Then, just to make the fellows feel good, I started singing:
We started down to the riverBut fate is very—is very—is very——
We started down to the riverBut fate is very—is very—is very——
We started down to the river
But fate is very—is very—is very——
“Harsh!” Westy shouted.
“Correct,” I said.
We started down to the river,But fate is very harsh.We started out for the, what-d’you call it, promised land,And got stuck in the middle of the marsh.
We started down to the river,But fate is very harsh.We started out for the, what-d’you call it, promised land,And got stuck in the middle of the marsh.
We started down to the river,
But fate is very harsh.
We started out for the, what-d’you call it, promised land,
And got stuck in the middle of the marsh.
But, gee whiz, they didn’t feel like singing, I could see that. Pee-wee shouted, because that kid would be happy in the bottom of a well, but the rest of them just kept still and looked grouchy.
“It’s raining, too,” one of them said.
“It always rains in vacation,” another began grumbling.
“Vacations and Saturdays,” another said.
“Come on home; that’s the end of our plans,” Dorry said. “I’m sorry we didn’t go up to Temple Camp with the others. I bet they’ll be good and mad when they see where the car is.”
I said, “A scout is supposed to be cheerful; let’s laugh, ha, ha!”
“I tell you what let’s do,” Pee-wee said. “Let’s camp here all night.”
“What good will that do?” one of the fellows wanted to know.
I said, “Well, I’m not going home in all this rain, anyway. We’re here and I’m going to stay here till it holds up.”
“That will be in about two weeks,” one of them said.
“I’ll go and tell our mothers and fathers and I’ll get some eats,” Pee-wee shouted. “And I’ll get some games and——”
“Ah, give us a rest,” Bad Manners said.
I said, “Isn’t it nice, we’re all such optimists?”
“Where did you get that word?” one of them grumbled.
“That means a man that tests your eyes,” Pee-wee shouted.
“You mean an optometrist,” Westy said.
I said, “What’s the use of grouching? We’re here because we’re here. Can you deny that? Is it our fault if the car didn’t go all the way? You fellows make me sick. Look at the inventor; he’d be happy on top of a volcano.”
“No wonder,” Westy said. “That’s because a volcano is on fire.”
“Fire’s better than rain, anyway,” one of them said.
“Oh, is that so?” I shot back at him. “If it wasn’t for rain there wouldn’t be any good fishing.”
“A lot of fish we’ll catch here,” Will Dawson said.
“And another thing,” I said, “look at Queen Victoria; she reigned for fifty years and she didn’t get mad. That shows you women are better than men. Maybe Minerva Skybrow could think of a way for us to get the car out of here.”
“Sure, maybe she’ll talk Italian to the cattails,” Ralph Warner said.
“Maybe she could get the mosquitoes to move, she was so successful with Tony,” Charlie Seabury began grouching.
“I wish school would open,” Dorry Benton said.
I said, “Do you take back that remark?”
“A lot of fun we’ll have here,” somebody else started grumbling.
Pee-wee said, “Just the same, I bet we’ll have some more adventures. I saw a yellow dog running east last night, and that’s a sign we’ll have more adventures. The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide; that’s what it says in my copy book.”
I said, “You’ve got the right idea, Kid. A car may be down, but it’s never out.”
“Well,I’mgoing out,” Hunt Manners said. “I’m going home.”
“So am I,” Charlie Seabury said, very grumpy like.
“Go ahead,” I told them. “We should worry. Pee-wee and the inventor and I are going to stay here.”
“I’m going to stay, too,” Westy said.
“I’m going home to get supper and go to the movies,” Dorry said, with a black look on his face.
“Give my regards to Charlie Chaplin,” I said.
Hunt Manners said, very cross, “Come on, fellows. Let’s go up to Bennett’s and get some sodas. Want to go, Pee-wee?”
I looked at the kid. Gee whiz, that was the hardest moment in his life. He stood between love and duty; I mean between love and more love.
“Go ahead,” he said. “I saw a yellow dog going east last night, and that means we’re going to have more adventures. Anyway, I can go with you and get a soda and then come back.”
Jiminies, I had to laugh.
“I’m through with this old shack; come on,” Tom Warner said.
“The pleasure is mine,” I told him. “So long.”
“We’re going to have adventures, ain’t we?” the inventor piped up.
“I don’t know,” I said, “but we’re going to have a game of checkers anyway.”
“I’m with you,” Will Dawson said.
I said, “All right, there are five of us and we’ll challenge the world.”
“That’s us,” Westy said.
“That’s me, too,” the inventor shouted. “I hope we get in a lot of danger, hey?”
“Don’t lose your lives playing checkers,” Hunt Manners said.
“Don’t risk your young lives up at the Lyric Theatre,” I told him. “Be careful when you’re crossing Main Street.”
“Don’t let the mosquitoes eat you up,” Charlie Seabury said.
“Thanks,” I told him. “Look out you don’t get run over by a baby carriage.”
“We’re going to start for Temple Camp in the morning,” Dorry said, very grouchy.
“Just tell them that you saw us,” I said.
“Tell them we wouldn’t desert the old car in the marsh,” Westy shouted after them.
“I’m through with it,” another one of them said.
“We’re going to stick to our wounded comrade in No Man’s Land. Hey?” Pee-wee said. Gee, that was a good name for Cat-tail Marsh.
So that’s the way it was. Will Dawson, Westy, Pee-wee, the inventor and I stayed down in the car, only Pee-wee went up with the others because he was going to tell our mothers and get some eats and things. We told him to get games and hooks, too. As long as there wasn’t anything better to do, and it was raining and blowing, we thought we might as well camp in the old car that night. We knew there wouldn’t be much doing, but, gee whiz, I’m tired of the movies.
The others went back along the trestle, Pee-wee with them, and we could see them when they got out from among the cat-tails and started up across the Sneezenbunker land. It was raining hard and it was getting dark and we could see the little lights shining on Main Street. It was nice and cozy in that old car. Maybe it wasn’t a good place for it, I’m not saying, and maybe it wouldn’t be any use there, especially in the summer, but anyway, we were going to have one last night in it.
“Will he come back?” the inventor asked me.
“Who? Pee-wee?” I said. “You bet he will. He’s not missing anything; not even a soda.”
“Can I watch you play checkers?” the kid wanted to know.
“You bet!” I told him.
“I hope it rains all night. Don’t you?” he asked me.
“Sure thing,” I said.
“I like water better than fire. Don’t you?” he wanted to know.
“You’re changing,” I said.
He went over and sat with his face plastered against one of the windows, watching for Pee-wee. The rain was just dripping down outside the windows. The kid’s nose was flat against the pane.
Pretty soon he shouted, “I see him! Here he comes!”
Away up on the Sneezenbunker land we could see a black speck coming toward us through all the rain. In a couple of minutes it got down to the edge of the marsh and we couldn’t see it any more on account of the cat-tails.
Now if you want to stick to those fellows, go ahead and do it. I’m not stopping you. This story has two endings and you can choose whichever one you please. I should worry. If you want to stay with us and watch us play checkers, all right. If you want to go with them, all right.
First I’ll tell you their ending of the story. They stopped at Bennett’s and had sodas, and Charlie Seabury bought some gumdrops. After supper they went down to the Lyric Theatre and they stopped with Dorry while he bought a bell for his bicycle. After the excitement of buying the bell was over, they stopped in the library and Hunt Manners got “Kidnaped,” by Stevenson. He should have got slapped on the wrist instead of kidnaped.
Then they went on down to the Lyric and stood on the line for twenty minutes. When they got in they saw “The Cowboy’s Vengeance.” Oh, they had a wild time that night. That cowboy had troubles of his own. But one thing, he killed eleven train robbers. Maybe you’ll say our poor old car that was marooned in the marsh didn’t have any pep compared to that train going through the Rocky Mountains. But you cannot sometimes always tell.
That’s one ending to this story. Now comes the other one.
One thing I’ll tell you. If you ever see a yellow dog going east, prepare for the worst. That’s all.
We cooked some eats on the old stove in the corner of the car that night and they tasted good. After that we fixed two of the seats facing each other and sat in them, watching the rain. We jollied Pee-wee and talked about stalking and merit badges and told riddles. After that we played checkers and when we all got good and sleepy we fixed the seats into berths. The way you make a berth is to lift a seat out and lay it lengthwise across two other seats. We made five berths that way. Then we went to sleep.
Now I couldn’t see just exactly what happened because I was asleep. But I found out afterwards. I thought I heard funny kinds of noises in the night, but that old car had so many creaks in it that it was like a full orchestra whenever the wind blew.
Anyway, when I woke up in the morning and looked out of the window, I thought I was in Noah’s Ark. I was so surprised that I couldn’t do anything but just stare.We were floating down the river!That’s just as true as that I’m sitting on the window seat in my room, writing.We were floating down the river. You can ask anybody in Bridgeboro.
I gave Westy a shake and said, “Wake up and look out of the window! Hurry up!Westy!”
In a half a minute we were all staring out of the window.
Will Dawson said, “Are we dreaming or not?”
I said, “I wouldn’t say for sure that I’m awake, but IthinkI am. Either that or I’ve gone crazy reading ‘Alice in Wonderland.’Look!There’s the park! We’re about half a mile down the river.”
The inventor started shouting, “Oh, good, good, good! I’m glad. Maybe we’ll go across the ocean! Will we?”
“Nothing would surprise me,” Westy said. “I hope we’ll meet Sinbad, the sailor.”
“This car wouldn’t float,” Will Dawson said.
“Itwouldn’t” I said; “but itdoes.”
“Open the window and look out,” Westy said.
“What did I tell you about yellow dogs?” Pee-wee shouted.
“Can I be the captain?” the inventor wanted to know. “Is it a ship?”
“Either that or an insane asylum,” I said.
“Look out of the window,” Westy said. “I see what happened. Come on, let’s look out from one of the doors. I know what happened all right!”
We threw open three or four windows and looked down. Then he ran for one of the doors and looked out. The car was on something, that was sure.
“It’s an old scow,” Westy said. “Look!”
I looked down from the car door just as Westy jumped down. He said, “It’s an old scow just as sure as you live. It was part of the solid part of the trestle. See how the old tracks are broken? What—do—you—know—about—that?”
He pulled off a chip of wood and threw it up to me. “Cedar,” he said; “smell it.”
I saw just how it was. The car was standing on an old scow. The old rusty tracks were twisted and broken off and stuck out over the end. In five seconds we were all down on the deck of it, staring around.
Westy said, “Did you smell it? It’s cedar.”
And just then I remembered about something we had read in a scouts’ book about trees. Westy knows all the different kinds of wood; he’s crazy about trees. This is it, copied right out of the book:
Cedar is the wood most valuable for the hulls of vessels. When kept under water its freshness is everlasting. While other woods rot away this soft, spongy wood that yields so readily to the ax or the jack-knife, defies the decaying effects of water, its soft fiber swelling and toughening even in ordinary dampness. Time is powerless to rot it when it is in its natural element.
Cedar is the wood most valuable for the hulls of vessels. When kept under water its freshness is everlasting. While other woods rot away this soft, spongy wood that yields so readily to the ax or the jack-knife, defies the decaying effects of water, its soft fiber swelling and toughening even in ordinary dampness. Time is powerless to rot it when it is in its natural element.
“What happened?” I asked him, because he seemed to know more about it than I did.
He said, “That’s easy to see. The creek flooded the marsh last night. The solid part of the trestle that we noticed was just several old scows. I guess this was the only one made of cedar. Anyway, it rose with the water and broke the old tracks and floated away. It’s lucky the car wasn’t half on one scow and half on another.”
“I’m always lucky, I am!” Pee-wee shouted.
“I guess that’s because the dog was good and yellow,” I said. “If he had been orange color, goodness only knows what might have happened.”
“Stick to this old car and you can’t go wrong,” Will Dawson said.
“You said it,” I told him.
“Now we can be pirates, hey?” the inventor said.
“Sure,” I said. “You climb up and get inside the car. The first thing you know you’ll fall in the water, and the water around here is very wet.”
“Didn’t I say stick to the car?” Pee-wee wanted to know.
“Oh, you’re just the little hero,” I told him. “If we all get drowned we’ll have to thank you.”
“Drowned?What are you talking about?” he said. “If you’re afraid——”
“Anybody that’s afraid can get out and walk,” I said. “We’ve got a private car and a private yacht too. We’re a rich patrol. I don’t think we’ll notice that crowd up at Temple Camp any more. We’ve got Submarine Sam looking like a mamma’s boy. A life on the ocean wave for us.”
“We’re going sideways,” Westy said.
“Frontways and sideways, what do we care?” I said.
“Railroad travel is all right, but ocean travel for me,” Will said.
“What are you kicking about?” Pee-wee yelled. “We’ve got both.”
“If a stray airplane would only drop on us now we’d be happy,” I said.
“You want too much,” Pee-wee shouted. “We can’t haveeverything.”
Now if you want to know all about that, I mean what happened, you can find it in the Bridgeboro paper of the next day. Even newspaper reporters came from New York to find out about it. And they had articles and pictures and everything.
That was the first time in a good many years that the creek had backed up into the marsh. Always that creek flows into the river. But the river was so full that it made the creek back up, and I should worry about all that business, because this is vacation and I’m not thinking about geography. If the creek wanted to back up it’s none of my business. That’s between the creek and the river and the uncivil engineers, and I wouldn’t trouble my young life about it.
But, anyway, once a long time ago when a creek ran through that marsh there were some scows there. Some people called them barges. Anyway, they were canal boats. They used four of those to lay the tracks across when they ran the line up to town. The other three were pretty rotten, but the one that was made out of cedar was all right. The marsh kept the seams tight. As long as the hull was tight nothing could keep it down when the water rose. It would take more than those old rusty tracks to press it under water. Lucky for us our car was right on it. Afterwards they found that the other three barges had water in them up to the level of the water outside, and when the water rose it flowed right into them and they stayed on the bottom. That shows what cedar is.
So you see we got our car out of the marsh all right and when something goes wrong it’s better not to begin grouching till the next day—that’s what I say. Wait a couple of days, that’s better. Even if you wait a year it won’t do any harm.
SOME MEN THREW US A ROPE AND PULLED US ASHORE.
SOME MEN THREW US A ROPE AND PULLED US ASHORE.
It was a dandy bright morning and the tide was just about full. We went drifting around the bend, just as nice as could be, flopping around this way and that, and I guess we must have looked pretty funny from the shore. Anyway, nobody saw us till we got to the Court House grounds. The Court House lawn runs right down to the river, and there are trees there and benches. The county jail is there, too, and the prisoners can see the river—a lot of good it does them. I’m glad I’m not a convict, that’s one thing. But, gee whiz, I came near to being one. The only reason I’m not one is because I didn’t commit a crime.
Now as we passed by there, who should we see sprawling under a tree near the shore but the five deserters from my patrol, Dorry Benton, Bad Manners, Charlie Seabury and the Warner twins.
I said, “Look at those five deserters, will you?”
The inventor wanted to know what a deserter was. “It’s a fellow that eats two helpings of dessert,” I told him.
“Give them a call,” Westy said; “they don’t see us.”
We all started shouting together, and then they looked up.
Good night!
“What do you call that?” one of them yelled. “Look what’s going by, will you!”
I shouted, “Good morning, it’s a beautiful afternoon this evening, isn’t it? Have you done your good turns yet?”
They all jumped up and stood on the shore, staring.
“What in the dickens——” one of them began.
“Will you look at that!” another one said.
“Where did you fellows come from?” Charlie Seabury called. “How did you get that car on a boat?”
“You forget we have brains,” I shouted, “even if we do belong in the same patrol with you. We’re just going for a little sail; we’ll be back in a couple of months. How did you like the movies?”
“Well—I’ll—be—jiggered!” Hunt Manners shouted, just staring at us.
I said, “Oh, don’t be jiggered so early in the morning. We’re just making a strategic retreat from Cat-tail Marsh while the mosquitoes are having breakfast. You know what strategy is, don’t you? You’ve heard of that?”
“We’re going across the ocean,” the inventor called.
“They’ll bump into the bridge at Hanley’s Crossing,” I heard one of them say to another.
“What do we care for a few bumps?” Will Dawson called. “Did you enjoy your sodas? So sorry we couldn’t join you, but our ship was sailing.”
“That shows what you get for not taking my advice,” Pee-wee screamed at them. “You stick to me and you’ll have adventures. You said you were disgusted with this old car. Now you see! It’s good I didn’t go to Temple Camp with the Ravens. Now you see! Ya-ha, ya-ha!”
“We can rave all right without the Ravens,” I said.
“Where are you going?” Dorry Benton called.
“Oh, we’re not particular,” I called back. “We’re going till we stop and then we won’t go any further. It’s so dull hanging around Bridgeboro. We should worry where we’re going.”
“We don’t know where we’re going but we’re on our way,” Will shouted at them.
“I’m captain,” the inventor shouted.
By that time we had drifted past them and it was too far to call and they just stood there, gaping. It was awful funny to see them.
They knew that we couldn’t get any further than Hanky’s Crossing because the tide was too high for us to go under the bridge there, and I knew they’d hike down there as fast as their legs would take them.
Sure enough, they were there waiting for us when we came flopping along. And a lot of other people were there, too. Gee whiz, everybody had heard about us by that time. We floated right up against the bridge—bump. And then some men threw us a rope and we fastened it to the old barge and they pulled us ashore. Everybody stared at us like the natives stared at Columbus Ohio when he landed on San Salvador.
We just walked ashore and I didn’t pay any attention to that bunch of quitters and I said, “This seems to be a nice place. We take possession of it in the name of the Boy Scouts of America. Are there any ice cream stores here?”
“This is Hanley’s Crossing,” a little girl spoke up.
I said, “It’s all right; wrap it up and we’ll take it home.”
Oh, boy, some excitement! We told our story and you ought to have seen everybody stare, especially those five fellows. I guess they envied us, all right.
I said, “It serves you fellows right for leaving us. We should have stayed all separated together. Now you see what comes from not having a scout smile. The face with the smile wins. You should apologize to the next rainstorm you see. While there’s life there’s adventure.”
“Do you think we’d let a marsh foil us?” Pee-wee said.
“Do you think we’d desert the poor, defenseless cat-tails for an ice cream soda?” Will said.
“You never can tell where a game of checkers will end,” said Westy.
“Or a car,” I said.
“If we have to go through fire and water we’ll win,” Pee-wee said.
“Hurrah for the silver-plated foxes!” I shouted.
Everybody stood around staring at us and laughing.
A man said, “Well, the bridge stopped you.”
“That’s different,” I told him.
He said, “Oh, I see.”
“Whatever happens is all right,” I said “Let’s hear you deny that.”
Pee-wee said, “Adventures are things that happen that aren’t supposed to happen.”
I said, “Sure. Some people follow adventures, but adventures follow us. That’s because we’re scouts.”
“We always have adventures,” Pee-wee said.
“Have you got any with you?” a fellow that was standing there wanted to know.
“We’ll have some more by to-morrow,” I told him. “Call and inspect our stock. Have you got any scouts down here?”
One of the men who was laughing said, “Not a one.”
“You’re lucky,” I told him.
He said, “Well, you kids had quite an experience.”
“That’s nothing,” Pee-wee said. “You don’t call that an experience. That was just a ride.”
“Worse things than that are going to happen,” the inventor piped up.
But not in this story, believe me. One fire and one flood are enough. Another chapter and we might have a world war and an earthquake—that’s what my sister said. She said adventures are all the time waiting for us. “Let them wait,” I told her; “what do we care?” My father said one good thing about us, anyway, and that is we don’t shoot people like Submarine Sam does in the book. We shoot the chutes, that’s about all we ever shoot. But just the same, we have a lot of fun. In the next story I’ll tell you how we got lost in a ferris wheel.
But I can’t bother to tell you now how we got our car back to Van Schlessenhoff’s field, for we’ve got enough on our hands getting our mushroom farm started down there by the river, and besides, we’ve got to go to Temple Camp. We’ve got to get up there in time for the lake carnival. Maybe I’ll tell you about that, too. Gee whiz, I know a lot of things to tell you. And I bet you’ll be surprised how we got our old car back to the field.
Anyway, I’ll tell you this much now. When we did get it back there we chained it down and built a stockade around it and blocked the wheels and locked the brakes and put paper weights on the roof.
Safety first. That’s what I say.
THE END
This Isn’t All!
Would you like to know what became of the good friends you have made in this book?
Would you like to read other stories continuing their adventures and experiences, or other books quite as entertaining by the same author?
On thereverse sideof the wrapper which comes with this book, you will find a wonderful list of stories which you can buy at the same store where you got this book.
Don’t throw away the Wrapper
Use it as a handy catalog of the books you want some day to have. But in case you do mislay it, write to the Publishers for a complete catalog.
THE ROY BLAKELEY BOOKSBy PERCY KEESE FITZHUGHAuthor of “Tom Slade,” “Pee-wee Harris,”“Westy Martin,” Etc.Illustrated. Picture Wrappers in Color.Every Volume Complete in Itself.
THE ROY BLAKELEY BOOKS
By PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH
Author of “Tom Slade,” “Pee-wee Harris,”
“Westy Martin,” Etc.
Illustrated. Picture Wrappers in Color.
Every Volume Complete in Itself.
In the character and adventures of Roy Blakeley are typified the very essence of Boy life. He is a real boy, as real as Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer. He is the moving spirit of the troop of Scouts of which he is a member, and the average boy has to go only a little way in the first book before Roy is the best friend he ever had, and he is willing to part with his best treasure to get the next book in the series.
ROY BLAKELEYROY BLAKELEY’S ADVENTURES IN CAMPROY BLAKELEY, PATHFINDERROY BLAKELEY’S CAMP ON WHEELSROY BLAKELEY’S SILVER FOX PATROLROY BLAKELEY’S MOTOR CARAVANROY BLAKELEY, LOST, STRAYED OR STOLENROY BLAKELEY’S BEE-LINE HIKEROY BLAKELEY AT THE HAUNTED CAMPROY BLAKELEY’S FUNNY BONE HIKEROY BLAKELEY’S TANGLED TRAILROY BLAKELEY ON THE MOHAWK TRAILROY BLAKELEY’S ELASTIC HIKEROY BLAKELEY’S ROUNDABOUT HIKE
ROY BLAKELEYROY BLAKELEY’S ADVENTURES IN CAMPROY BLAKELEY, PATHFINDERROY BLAKELEY’S CAMP ON WHEELSROY BLAKELEY’S SILVER FOX PATROLROY BLAKELEY’S MOTOR CARAVANROY BLAKELEY, LOST, STRAYED OR STOLENROY BLAKELEY’S BEE-LINE HIKEROY BLAKELEY AT THE HAUNTED CAMPROY BLAKELEY’S FUNNY BONE HIKEROY BLAKELEY’S TANGLED TRAILROY BLAKELEY ON THE MOHAWK TRAILROY BLAKELEY’S ELASTIC HIKEROY BLAKELEY’S ROUNDABOUT HIKE
ROY BLAKELEY
ROY BLAKELEY’S ADVENTURES IN CAMP
ROY BLAKELEY, PATHFINDER
ROY BLAKELEY’S CAMP ON WHEELS
ROY BLAKELEY’S SILVER FOX PATROL
ROY BLAKELEY’S MOTOR CARAVAN
ROY BLAKELEY, LOST, STRAYED OR STOLEN
ROY BLAKELEY’S BEE-LINE HIKE
ROY BLAKELEY AT THE HAUNTED CAMP
ROY BLAKELEY’S FUNNY BONE HIKE
ROY BLAKELEY’S TANGLED TRAIL
ROY BLAKELEY ON THE MOHAWK TRAIL
ROY BLAKELEY’S ELASTIC HIKE
ROY BLAKELEY’S ROUNDABOUT HIKE
GROSSET & DUNLAP,Publishers, NEW YORK
THE TOM SLADE BOOKSBy PERCY KEESE FITZHUGHAuthor of “Roy Blakeley,” “Pee-wee Harris,”“Westy Martin,” Etc.Illustrated. Picture Wrappers in Color.Every Volume Complete in Itself.
THE TOM SLADE BOOKS
By PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH
Author of “Roy Blakeley,” “Pee-wee Harris,”
“Westy Martin,” Etc.
Illustrated. Picture Wrappers in Color.
Every Volume Complete in Itself.
“Let your boy grow up with Tom Slade,” is a suggestion which thousands of parents have followed during the past, with the result that the TOM SLADE BOOKS are the most popular boys’ books published today. They take Tom Slade through a series of typical boy adventures through his tenderfoot days as a scout, through his gallant days as an American doughboy in France, back to his old patrol and the old camp ground at Black Lake, and so on.
TOM SLADE, BOY SCOUTTOM SLADE AT TEMPLE CAMPTOM SLADE ON THE RIVERTOM SLADE WITH THE COLORSTOM SLADE ON A TRANSPORTTOM SLADE WITH THE BOYS OVER THERETOM SLADE, MOTORCYCLE DISPATCH BEARERTOM SLADE WITH THE FLYING CORPSTOM SLADE AT BLACK LAKETOM SLADE ON MYSTERY TRAILTOM BLADE’S DOUBLE DARETOM SLADE ON OVERLOOK MOUNTAINTOM SLADE PICKS A WINNERTOM SLADE AT BEAR MOUNTAINTOM SLADE: FOREST RANGERTOM SLADE IN THE NORTH WOODS
TOM SLADE, BOY SCOUTTOM SLADE AT TEMPLE CAMPTOM SLADE ON THE RIVERTOM SLADE WITH THE COLORSTOM SLADE ON A TRANSPORTTOM SLADE WITH THE BOYS OVER THERETOM SLADE, MOTORCYCLE DISPATCH BEARERTOM SLADE WITH THE FLYING CORPSTOM SLADE AT BLACK LAKETOM SLADE ON MYSTERY TRAILTOM BLADE’S DOUBLE DARETOM SLADE ON OVERLOOK MOUNTAINTOM SLADE PICKS A WINNERTOM SLADE AT BEAR MOUNTAINTOM SLADE: FOREST RANGERTOM SLADE IN THE NORTH WOODS
TOM SLADE, BOY SCOUT
TOM SLADE AT TEMPLE CAMP
TOM SLADE ON THE RIVER
TOM SLADE WITH THE COLORS
TOM SLADE ON A TRANSPORT
TOM SLADE WITH THE BOYS OVER THERE
TOM SLADE, MOTORCYCLE DISPATCH BEARER
TOM SLADE WITH THE FLYING CORPS
TOM SLADE AT BLACK LAKE
TOM SLADE ON MYSTERY TRAIL
TOM BLADE’S DOUBLE DARE
TOM SLADE ON OVERLOOK MOUNTAIN
TOM SLADE PICKS A WINNER
TOM SLADE AT BEAR MOUNTAIN
TOM SLADE: FOREST RANGER
TOM SLADE IN THE NORTH WOODS
GROSSET & DUNLAP,Publishers, NEW YORK
THE PEE-WEE HARRIS BOOKSBy PERCY KEESE FITZHUGHAuthor of “Tom Slade,” “Roy Blakeley,”“Westy Martin,” Etc.Illustrated. Picture Wrappers in Color.Every Volume Complete in Itself.
THE PEE-WEE HARRIS BOOKS
By PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH
Author of “Tom Slade,” “Roy Blakeley,”
“Westy Martin,” Etc.
Illustrated. Picture Wrappers in Color.
Every Volume Complete in Itself.
All readers of the Tom Slade and the Roy Blakeley books are acquainted with Pee-wee Harris. These stories record the true facts concerning his size (what there is of it) and his heroism (such as it is), his voice, his clothes, his appetite, his friends, his enemies, his victims. Together with the thrilling narrative of how he foiled, baffled, circumvented and triumphed over everything and everybody (except where he failed) and how even when he failed he succeeded. The whole recorded in a series of screams and told with neither muffler nor cut-out.
PEE-WEE HARRISPEE-WEE HARRIS ON THE TRAILPEE-WEE HARRIS IN CAMPPEE-WEE HARRIS IN LUCKPEE-WEE HARRIS ADRIFTPEE-WEE HARRIS F. O. B. BRIDGEBOROPEE-WEE HARRIS FIXERPEE-WEE HARRIS: AS GOOD AS HIS WORDPEE-WEE HARRIS: MAYOR FOR A DAYPEE-WEE HARRIS AND THE SUNKEN TREASURE
PEE-WEE HARRISPEE-WEE HARRIS ON THE TRAILPEE-WEE HARRIS IN CAMPPEE-WEE HARRIS IN LUCKPEE-WEE HARRIS ADRIFTPEE-WEE HARRIS F. O. B. BRIDGEBOROPEE-WEE HARRIS FIXERPEE-WEE HARRIS: AS GOOD AS HIS WORDPEE-WEE HARRIS: MAYOR FOR A DAYPEE-WEE HARRIS AND THE SUNKEN TREASURE
PEE-WEE HARRIS
PEE-WEE HARRIS ON THE TRAIL
PEE-WEE HARRIS IN CAMP
PEE-WEE HARRIS IN LUCK
PEE-WEE HARRIS ADRIFT
PEE-WEE HARRIS F. O. B. BRIDGEBORO
PEE-WEE HARRIS FIXER
PEE-WEE HARRIS: AS GOOD AS HIS WORD
PEE-WEE HARRIS: MAYOR FOR A DAY
PEE-WEE HARRIS AND THE SUNKEN TREASURE
GROSSET & DUNLAP,Publishers, NEW YORK
Football and Baseball StoriesHandsomely Bound. Illustrated. Colored Wrappers.Every Volume Complete in Itself.
Football and Baseball Stories
Handsomely Bound. Illustrated. Colored Wrappers.
Every Volume Complete in Itself.
The Ralph Henry Barbour Books for Boys
In these up-to-the-minute, spirited genuine stories of boy life there is something which will appeal to every boy with the love of manliness, cleanness and sportsmanship in his heart.
LEFT END EDWARDSLEFT TACKLE THAYERLEFT GUARD GILBERTCENTER RUSH ROWLANDFULLBACK FOSTERLEFT HALF HARMONRIGHT END EMERSONRIGHT GUARD GRANTQUARTERBACK BATESRIGHT TACKLE TODDRIGHT HALF HOLLINS
LEFT END EDWARDSLEFT TACKLE THAYERLEFT GUARD GILBERTCENTER RUSH ROWLANDFULLBACK FOSTERLEFT HALF HARMONRIGHT END EMERSONRIGHT GUARD GRANTQUARTERBACK BATESRIGHT TACKLE TODDRIGHT HALF HOLLINS
LEFT END EDWARDS
LEFT TACKLE THAYER
LEFT GUARD GILBERT
CENTER RUSH ROWLAND
FULLBACK FOSTER
LEFT HALF HARMON
RIGHT END EMERSON
RIGHT GUARD GRANT
QUARTERBACK BATES
RIGHT TACKLE TODD
RIGHT HALF HOLLINS
The Christy Mathewson Books for Boys
Every boy wants to know how to play ball in the fairest and squarest way. These books about boys and baseball are full of wholesome and manly interest and information. Every young American who has ever tried to stop a grounder or put one over first will enjoy them and want to own them all.
PITCHER POLLOCKCATCHER CRAIGFIRST BASE FAULKNERSECOND BASE SLOANPITCHING IN A PINCH
PITCHER POLLOCKCATCHER CRAIGFIRST BASE FAULKNERSECOND BASE SLOANPITCHING IN A PINCH
PITCHER POLLOCK
CATCHER CRAIG
FIRST BASE FAULKNER
SECOND BASE SLOAN
PITCHING IN A PINCH
THIRD BASE THATCHER, By Everett Scott
GROSSET & DUNLAP,Publishers, NEW YORK
THE LITTLE WASHINGTONS SERIESBy LILLIAN ELIZABETH ROYHandsomely Bound. Colored Wrappers. Illustrated.For Children 6 to 12 yrs.
THE LITTLE WASHINGTONS SERIES
By LILLIAN ELIZABETH ROY
Handsomely Bound. Colored Wrappers. Illustrated.
For Children 6 to 12 yrs.
This series presents early American history in a manner that impresses the young readers. Because of George and Martha Washington Parke, two young descendants of the famous General Washington, these stories follow exactly the life of the great American, by means of playing they act the life of the Washingtons, both in battles and in society.
THE LITTLE WASHINGTONS
Their thrilling battles and expeditions generally end in “punishment” lessons read by Mrs. Parke from the “Life of Washington.” The culprits listen intently, for this reading generally gives them new ideas for further games of Indian warfare and Colonists’ battles.
THE LITTLE WASHINGTONS’ RELATIVES
The Davis children visit the Parke home and join zealously in the garnet of playing General Washington. So zealously, in fact, that little Jim almost loses his scalp.
THE LITTLE WASHINGTONS’ TRAVELS
The children wage a fierce battle upon the roof of a hotel in New York City. Then, visiting the Davis home in Philadelphia, the patriotic Washingtons vanquish the Hessians on a battle-field in the empty lot back of the Davis property.
THE LITTLE WASHINGTONS AT SCHOOL
After the school-house battle the Washingtons discover a band of gypsies camping near the back road to their homes and incidentally they secure the stolen horse which the gypsies had taken from the “butter and egg farmer” of the Parkes.
THE LITTLE WASHINGTONS’ HOLIDAYS
They spend a pleasant summer on two adjoining farms in Vermont. During the voyage they try to capture a “frigate” but little Jim is caught and about to be punished by the Captain when his confederates hasten in and save him.
GROSSET & DUNLAP,Publishers, NEW YORK