Читать книгу Roy Blakeley's Go-As-You-Please Hike - Percy Keese Fitzhugh - Страница 8

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We had to swim the brook anyhow because the farmer wouldn’t let us walk up any further. He wouldn’t even let us go through the fields so’s we could get right on the road to Catskill again. He made us go on a path that went northwest—he didn’t care as long as it wasn’t his property. I bet he wouldn’t let his own grandmother walk there.

Pee-wee said, “Anyway, we foiled him in a way and we can walk northwest until we strike a road or a trail going east. We’re sure to get to Catskill going east.”

“That’s the direction to China also,” Doc said.

“Gee whiz, you fellers are fine scouts,” the kid said. “A good scout shouldn’t get discouraged by distance or anything. Anyway, what do you care, we’re not in a rush, are we?”

So I said, “Maybe your tickets won’t be any good by that time.”

“By what time?” he wanted to know.

“By the time we strike a road going east,” I said. “Winter might overtake us.”

“Don’t talk like a fool,” he said. “If we don’t strike a trail going east soon, can’t we blaze one like they did in covered wagon days? Gee whiz, if you’re not resourceful, I am.”

I said, “Posilutely. Only you’ll have to do the blazing. You’re the cause of us going toward Seattle when we should be in Catskill now. When are you going to start blazing, kid?”

We came out onto a road going directly north. The kid said, “Not long now. Gee whiz, I’m as thirsty and hungry as you fellers are and I’m not complaining.”

Dub said, “Everything will be fine as long as we don’t try to hunt for any more springs.”

Pee-wee said, “Just the same we’d have a drink by now if it wasn’t for that farmer. I betcha that spring was only a little way down that road after you cross the field. You admit it wasn’t my fault that he came along, don’t you?”

Doc said, “That was a lucky break for you, kid. Maybe the spring dried up right after you and Tom Slade left it.”

I said, “Maybe Pee-wee didn’t leave any water there to dry up.”

“I won’t argue with you about such nonsense,” he said. Then all of a sudden he smiled. “Look! Some nice wild blackberries!”

We all looked and sure enough there were about skeentees thousand nice, ripe blackberries all waiting to be picked. So for about ten minutes we were very busy and didn’t talk because we were eating them. Especially Pee-wee, he didn’t even breathe. He was eating three mouthfuls at a time.

Just then we saw a big truck coming down the road. It was packed full of hay and we watched it until it came right up to us when the kid yelled, “G-go-ng t-t- C-a—ll?” He almost choked, his mouth was so full.

The driver looked down at the kid and laughed. “I pass right near it. Only a little walk for you. Climb in back, kids, and be comfortable!” he said.

Pee-wee grabbed off a few more berries and climbed up into the hay. We all went after him and almost fell backwards as the truck started off. Anyway, we sprawled all over and it smelled nice and sweet. That made me think of something, so I said, “What would Daniel Boone and the covered wagon days say if they could see you riding in an uncovered wagon instead of being resourceful and blazing a new trail to Catskill?”

The kid couldn’t answer right away. His mouth was still packed full and his lips and chin were smeared with blackberry juice. Finally, he swallowed some and he said, “Do you say it isn’t being resourceful that I thought of asking for a ride to Catskill? Do you think Daniel Boone wouldn’t ride on a hay truck if they had hay trucks in those days?”

I said, “That shows how much you know about botany. Daniel Boone wasn’t out for comfort, he was out for adventure and he wouldn’t ride a hay truck if he had the chance. He’d rather discover new trails and things. Ask Robinson Crusoe!”

“That shows you’re crazy and don’t know what you’re talking about,” he came back at me. “Do you mean to tell me if Daniel Boone was alive that he wouldn’t ask for a lift if he was in a hurry like we are? Gee whiz, it takes time to blaze a trail and isn’t it better to not be so pioneerish and get a lift when we only have till noon to turn those tickets in?”

I said, “Chipskunk, do you mean to tell me those tickets are only good till twelve o’clock?”

“That’s all,” he told me. “Mr. Warner says he’s too busy in the afternoons so he just set this morning as the time to turn them in.”

“My gosh!” said Doc looking up at the sun. “It must be after eleven now. It would be just our luck to get there too late.”

I said to the kid, “Goodnight, why didn’t you tell us this last night so we could have made an early start? Or you could have told us when you met us. We wouldn’t have followed you looking for a spring that sprung out of sight.”

“It isn’t noontime yet, is it?” the kid shouted. “Besides, I didn’t know I had enough tickets until this morning.”

I said, “Where are the tickets?”

The kid fished around in his pockets and brought out everything from a dried-up caramel to a bent safety pin. And just when we began to hold our breath he felt in his pocket and smiled. Then he pulled them out and they were all wrapped up in the tin foil from an eskimo pie.

He started unwrapping them and we went bumping along—that is, the truck did but we didn’t mind being thrown around in that nice soft hay. It was so high we couldn’t see the driver from where we were. All we knew was that we were riding along and all of a sudden we bounced up in the air and down again.

When I came up smiling once more I happened to look at the kid and he looked scared to death. So I said, “What’s the matter, little one?”

He said, “Gee whiz! I don’t know. I don’t know what happened to those tickets. When we were bounced up I had them but when I came down I didn’t.”