So there we were with the first hard part of our big enterprise over,
and the hardest part staring us in the face.
“We’re past the first trench line, anyway,” Westy said.
“Yes, but I’d like to know how we’re going to get past that old repair
shop,” Connie put in. “That’s what _I’d_ like to know.”
We were all sitting in the car resting before going home.
“You leave that to me,” I said. “Where there’s a will there’s a way.
I’ve got an idea.”
“Have you got it with you?” Dorry Benton wanted to know.
“I’m not going to bother with that old grouch, Mr. Slausen,” I said.
“He’s worse than a rainy Sunday, that man is.”
“I’m glad I’m not his son,” one of the fellows said.
“Believe me,” I told them, “when it comes to picking out fathers I
picked out a good one.”
“Well, what’s the idea?” one of them wanted to know.
“This is the idea,” I said. “Two or three of us will go and see Mr.
Downing, who owns the field and the blamed old garage and everything,
and we’ll tell him all about it and maybe he can make Mr. Slausen let us
take down a few boards where the track runs through. Mr. Downing’s a
mighty nice man, I know that, because he gave a hundred dollars in the
scout drive.”
“Well, and suppose that fails?” Westy wanted to know.
I said, “Well, then, it means a lot of trouble; maybe we’ll have to all
get to work and take up the tracks and lay them to the left of the
garage where they cross Willow Place.”
“That will take us all summer,” Charlie Seabury said.
“Well,” I said, “we’ve got this far and will find a way to get the rest
of the distance, that’s sure. Where there’s a will there’s a way.”
Just then in came Mr. Slausen, all of a sudden, kind of angry like.
“All tickets, please,” I said. Because he made me think of a conductor.
He said, “Now see here, what are you youngsters doing here in this car?”
I said, “Is it a conundrum? How many guesses do we have? We’re sitting
in it.”
“You’ll have to clear out of here with this thing,” he said. “You’ll be
in the way, and this is private property, you know.”
“So is this car private property,” I said.
“Well, it’s on private land,” he said.
“That’s all right,” I told him; “it’s private property just the same.
Even if it were on the moon it would be private property. It belongs to
us. And the field doesn’t belong to you, either. It belongs to Mr.
Downing.”
Just then several of the fellows started singing an old tune that we
used to fit words to when we were travelling around the country in that
car.
“We’re on our way to the river,
We’re on our way to the river,
We’d rather have this than a flivver.
We’ll get there never fear,
And when we get there, we’ll be there
And while we’re here, we’re here.”
“Well, you’ll have to clear out of here with this thing,” he said. “I’ll
see your parents about it. I’ll notify the police. I use all this land,
you can’t stay here.”
“We don’t intend to stay here,” I said. “We’re going to move down to the
river, into Van Schlessenhoff’s field. We’re just stopping here. You
should worry.”
“Well, you’ll have to have this thing moved back,” he said, very cross.
“Scouts don’t move back,” I said; “they move forward. The only thing
that will stop us is the river. Excelsior! That’s our middle name.”
“That’s what you pack china in,” Pee-wee shouted.
“It means _Forward_,” I said. “It’s what somebody or other had on a
banner, in a poem. Scouts don’t have any reverse movement.”
“Now you boys know you can’t get past here,” Mr. Slausen said. “What are
you up to? How do you expect to get past here?”
“We should worry our young lives about how we’re going to get past,” I
said. “Italy stood in our way—you saw what happened. This is the Berlin
to Bagdad Railroad—branch of the Erie. We’re going to subdue all the
land between here and the river. We should sneeze at the Sneezenbunker
land. We’re going to make all the cats in Cat-tail Marsh pay an
indemnity. Maybe you think you’re more important than Belgium, but we’ll
go through you all right. You leave it to us. Food won the war so far,
didn’t it? Posolutely, quoth he.
“We haven’t opened our next campaign yet, but, anyway, we’re not too
proud to fight. Please don’t bother us now; we’re planning our next big
drive. We’re going to make the world safe for the boy scouts. If the
police and our parents know what’s best for them they’ll stay neutral.”
“Do you want to make a treaty with us?” Connie piped up. “Come on over
to Bennett’s and we’ll treat you to a treaty.”
Then we all began singing.
We’re here because we’re here,
We are not in despair;
And when we are no longer _here_
Why, maybe we’ll be there.
Mr. Slausen just went out and slammed the door. Gee whiz, that man can’t
take a joke.