Читать книгу Roy Blakeley's Camp on Wheels - Percy Keese Fitzhugh - Страница 7

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As soon as I mentioned Charlie Chaplin’s name, Pee-wee woke up. Charlie Chaplin is one of his favorite heroes; George Washington, Napoleon, and Charlie Chaplin—and Tyler’s milk chocolate.

“Where are we?” he began shouting. “There’s a lake! Look at the lake! What’s that lake doing here?”

“That lake has got as much right here as you have,” I told him.

Of course, as soon as Pee-wee began shouting Wig Weigand woke up, and after the whole four of them were through stretching and gaping, we had a meeting of the General Staff.

I said, “Something happened in the night. The first thing for us to do is to find out where we are. We can’t go home till we know where we have to go from.”

“I don’t care where we are,” Pee-wee shouted; “the first thing is to have breakfast.” Cracky, he’s like all the Ravens; always thinking about eats.

“We can’t eat breakfast till we know where we’re eating it,” I told him; “we’ve got to find out where we’re at.”

“You make me tired,” he shouted; “will you answer me one question?”

“Sure, ask me an answer and I’ll question you,” I said.

“Are we in the Brewster’s Centre Railroad Station or not?” he yelled.

“Sure we are,” Westy said.

“Then we know where we are, don’t we?” Pee-wee came back. “A location is a place, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but where’s the station?” Connie piped up.

“Pee-wee’s right,” I said; “we should worry about where the Brewster’s Centre Station is. We’re on the earth, aren’t we?”

“Sure we are,” Wig said.

“All right,” I told him; “we don’t know where the earth is, do we?”

“It’s right here,” Westy said.

“Yes, but where is here?” I shot back at him.

“Search me,” Westy said.

“Just the same as if you say a place is up,” I told him; “how high is up? Suppose the lights go out, where do they go? How do we know? But anyway, we know they go out.”

“Sure, that’s rhetoric,” Pee-wee shouted.

“You mean logic,” I told him. “Nobody really knows where he’s at. Even the smartest man in the world doesn’t know where he’s at. What do we care? Just because the earth is in the Solar System, that doesn’t say we have to tell where the Solar System is, does it? We’re in the Brewster’s Centre Railroad Station and the Brewster’s Centre Railroad Station is somewhere in France—I mean somewhere in the Solar System. Secretary Hines has charge of the railroads—he should worry. Come on, let’s get breakfast.”

We only had enough stuff to last for about one meal, so we put all our money together and counted it up. We had forty-two cents, and an eraser, and a subway ticket, and a little hunk of icing from a piece of cake, and a trolley zone ticket, and two animal crackers. I dumped the money and the hunk of icing and the two animal crackers into Connie’s hand (because he’s our troop treasurer anyway). “Here,” I told him; “food will win the war, don’t waste it.”

I made some coffee and then we fixed two of the seats facing each other and two of the fellows sat on one seat and two on the other with a piece of board between them.

There was a red flag on that car and I used it for an apron. Some chef, hey? The heating stove was in the little ticket office and I just passed the tin cups out through the window, and each time I called “one coffee” and slapped it down on the counter. I guess I’ll be a waiter in Child’s after I’m not a child any more—that’s a joke. Anyway, it was lucky we had some Uneeda crackers; we needed them enough, believe me.

After breakfast, Westy said, “There ought to be a town somewhere around here.”

“Look around and see if you can see it,” I told him; “maybe it ran away when it saw us coming.”

He and Connie were just going to start out looking for the town, when a man came along and went up the steps of the platform in front of the store. I guess he kept the store. He had a big straw hat on and one suspender over his left shoulder. He had a little beard like a billy goat. When he got up on the platform he stood there staring at us. Pretty soon a couple more men came and they all stood there in front of the store, staring.

“I think we’re pinched,” Westy said.

“I wonder how much we can buy for forty-two cents in that store,” Pee-wee wanted to know.

“About forty-two cents’ worth,” I told him.

“That won’t keep us alive for one day,” he said.

“Are you thinking about lunch already?” I asked him. “You should worry about lunch. All we have to do is to send a telegram to Bridgeboro and Mr. Temple will have another freight pick us up. We can be back there by to-night. I don’t know where we are, but if we got here in one night, we can get back in one day, can’t we? Anybody that knows anything about geometry can tell that. You should worry, we won’t starve.”

“What’ll you say in the telegram?” he wanted to know.

“Lost, strayed or stolen. Tag, you’re it. Come and find us. How would that do?” I asked him. “We’ll send it in your handwriting, then they’ll know who it’s from.”

Good night, you should have seen that kid. He jumped up on one of the seats and began shouting, “Do you think I’m a quitter? Do you think I’m going to send and ask anybody to take me home?”

“You’re a raving Raven,” Westy began, laughing.

“Do you think a raving Raven—I’m not a raving Raven,” Pee-wee just yelled, he was so excited; “you think you’re funny, don’t you? Do you think I’m a big baby?”

“Not so very big,” Connie said.

Pee-wee just stood there, yelling at us, “If you want to send word home, go ahead. You admit yourself you’re somewhere—don’t you?”

“Shout a little louder and they’ll hear you in Bridgeboro,” Wig said; “and then we won’t have to wire them.”

“It isn’t up to us, is it?” Pee-wee yelled. “Some train or other brought us here. When they find out they made a mistake, let them take us away again. What do we care? It’s none of our business. It’s up to the colonel, I mean the general or whatever you call him, of railroads. We can get along all right; we’re scouts, aren’t we?”

“How about school?” Westy said.

“How are they going to get the school here, all the way from Bridgeboro?” Pee-wee shouted.

“That settles it,” Connie said.

“Sure it settles it,” Pee-wee shouted; “and besides, Monday is Columbus Day—and Monday night, too. That’s a holiday.”

“There are a lot of Knights of Columbus, but there’s only one Columbus Day,” Westy shouted at him.

“They’ll find out where we are in three days, won’t they?” Pee-wee screamed. “I say let’s stay here. I say let’s be too proud to send for help.”

“Sure, we should worry,” I said.

“That’s what I say,” Connie shouted.

“Scouts don’t ask for help, do they?” Pee-wee yelled at the top of his voice.

I said, “No, but believe me, scouts like to eat. I know one scout that does, anyway. What are we going to eat between now and next Monday or Tuesday or Wednesday?”

“We’ll find a way,” Pee-wee shouted. “Maybe they’ll pick us up to-night, you can’t tell. Anyway, I’m not going to be a quitter. Whenever I have to do anything I can always find a way. We can have a movie show, can’t we? We can charge ten cents. We can have it to-night. You needn’t sign my name to any telegrams.”

“How can we have a movie show when there isn’t any town here?” Westy wanted to know.

“We’ll find the town,” Pee-wee shouted; “it must be somewhere.”

Connie said, “Oh, it’s probably somewhere.”

“Sure it is,” Pee-wee hollered; “and I’ve got that Temple Camp film in the machine. Remember about those scouts that were lost for a week in the Maine woods? We’re not as bad off as they were, are we?”

“Sure we’re not,” I said; “this is only the main line. Maybe it’s only a branch line.”

“Do you mean to tell me that scouts can’t get along when they’re lost on a branch line?” he wanted to know. “Scouts can do anything, can’t they? If I have to do something, I just do it. If I can’t do it, I do it anyway. I can find a way, all right.”

“Bully for you! Hurrah for P. Harris!” we began shouting.

“Do you think I’m going to starve?” he screamed.

“Gee whiz, it never looked that way to me,” I said.

“Why should we go home while we’re waiting?” he yelled at us.

“Look out, you’ll fall off the seat,” Connie said.

“We’re here because we’re here, you can’t deny that!” the kid fairly screeched, all the while hanging onto one of those cage things they put bundles in, so he wouldn’t fall off. “And I say we just stay here until they take us back in what-do-you-call-it—triumph—and put us where we belong. This is our station. No matter where it is, it’s our station. We’re good at tracking. If there’s a town we’ll trail it.”

“If it’s hiding we’ll find it,” I shouted; “hip, hip and a couple of hurrahs for P. Harris, scout!”