Читать книгу Roy Blakeley's Camp on Wheels - Percy Keese Fitzhugh - Страница 5

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In a couple of days I got a letter from Mr. Temple. It came from his office in New York. This is what it said:

Dear Roy:

I have arranged with the railroad people to let you boys have the Brewster’s Centre Station car. You will please accept it as a gift to your troop from myself.

The freight which passes through Brewster’s Centre somewhere around 10 P.M. will take it on Friday night and leave it on the siding at Bridgeboro. I am going to talk with Mr. Ellsworth about the means of moving it from there to a suitable location.

I am informed that the new station will be opened Friday morning, so if you and your companions wish to take possession Friday afternoon, you may do so. But do not make any alterations or bother the local agent until he gives you permission to go ahead.

I hope the troop will find this makeshift meeting place suitable till conditions are more favorable for finding a permanent headquarters.

Best wishes to you.

John Temple.

Oh, boy, isn’t he a peach of a man? I bet we hiked up to Brewster’s Centre a dozen times before Friday. I guess Pee-wee thought the station would run away. He couldn’t even wait till it got down to Bridgeboro, but asked the girl ticket agent if it would be all right for him to bring some things up, and good night! he showed up Thursday afternoon with his moving picture outfit and a lot of other stuff.

On Friday morning the new station was opened. It had a nice little ticket office for the girl to read novels in. So on Friday afternoon we all went up and took the boarding away from under the car and piled it inside, because we thought we might use it again. The part that was boarded off for a ticket office was at one end, and in the other part the seats were left just the same as in a regular car. It was nice in there, especially for meetings where somebody had to talk to us, only in our troop most always everybody is talking at once, especially Pee-wee. He talks so fast that he interrupts himself.

After we got the windows washed and the boards from underneath piled inside and the little ticket office all cleaned out, it was about six o’clock. Westy Martin (he’s in my patrol) said it would be a lot of fun for some of us to stay and come down in the car.

“I’ll stay!” Pee-wee shouted.

“How about you?” Westy asked me.

I said: “We’re going to have apple turnovers for dessert to-night, but I should worry, I’ll stay.”

Most of the fellows had to go home on account of their lessons, but I didn’t have any lessons, because my teacher had to go to a lecture. That’s the only thing I like about lectures. Westy always does his lessons right after school, before he goes out. Then in case he gets killed his lessons are done. He’s a careful kid. Anyway, all of us hate to do lessons on Saturday, because that’s scouting day.

The fellows that said they’d stay were Pee-wee Harris and Wig-Wag Weigand (they’re both raving Ravens), and Connie Bennett of the Elks (he wears glasses), and Westy Martin, and dear little Roy Blakeley, that’s me. I use glasses, too—when I drink ice-cream sodas. The rest of the troop went home and they said they’d all be down at the siding near the Bridgeboro Station early in the morning.

Westy had his camp outfit along and we had a lot of fun that night cooking supper in that old car. Westy and Pee-wee went up to the store and got some eggs and stuff, and I made a dandy omelet. I flopped it over all right and Connie Bennett said it would do for a good turn, because I hadn’t done any good turn that day. Pee-wee just turned around a couple of times and said that was his—he should worry.

After supper we took a little hike in the woods but we didn’t stay very long, because we were afraid that freight might come along ahead of time. Safety first. When we got back we sat around on the plush seats waiting for the freight and jollying Pee-wee.

It got to be about half-past ten, but still the freight didn’t come. Every little while one of us would go out and hold an ear down to the track and listen. You can hear a train about ten miles off that way.

“If it’s coming at all it must be coming on tiptoe,” I said.

“Or else it’s wearing rubbers,” Wig answered back.

“Maybe it’s stalking a cow that’s on the track,” I said, “and has to sneak along quietly. We should worry.”

Pretty soon we began getting sleepy. Pee-wee said he wasn’t exactly sleepy, but he guessed he’d lie down a little while. That was the end of him. If there had been an earthquake it wouldn’t have stirred him. The only thing that could have awakened him would have been his own voice, only he doesn’t talk in his sleep.

Pretty soon Wig said it was funny how Pee-wee could fall asleep so easy and he guessed he’d just sprawl on one of the seats and think. Good night! but didn’t he snore while he was thinking. All of a sudden Westy went sliding down to the floor and I dragged him up on the seat again. He was dead to the world.

“Believe me,” I said to Connie; “what do you know about that? I’ll laugh if that freight comes along and gives us a good bunk. Look at that trio, will you?” He just didn’t answer me at all.

“G-o-o-d night!” I said to myself; “wake me early, mother dear.”

All of a sudden I happened to think of something that Mr. Temple said in a speech about the scouts being such a wide-awake lot. Gee whiz, I laughed so much that I just lay down on the seat and held my sides.

That’s the last that I remember. I guess I fainted from laughing so hard.