WE DO A GOOD TURN
“There ought to be plenty of apples on that branch,” I said, as I went
along.
“What branch?” the kid wanted to know.
“The old railroad branch,” I told him. “Don’t you know that apples grow
on a branch?”
I guess none of us knew anything about that old branch but Hervey
Willetts. That fellow knows about the funniest things and places. He can
take you to old shacks in the woods and all places like that. He knows
all the farmers for miles around camp. He knows where you can get dandy
buttermilk. And he knows where you can get killed by quicksand and a lot
of other peachy places. He says that’s the kind of sand he likes because
it’s quick. He believes in action, that fellow.
I said, “As long as you know where we’re going suppose you be leader for
a little while.”
“I’ll be leader,” Pee-wee shouted.
“Let Hervey be leader,” they all said.
So I fell behind and I was glad to get rid of the job of leading for a
little while. But, oh boy, it was some job following! That fellow swung
up into trees and turned somersaults over stone walls and hopped on one
leg over big rocks—good night, we didn’t have any rest.
“You wanted ginger,” he said.
“Sure, but we didn’t want cayenne pepper,” I told him. “Have a heart.”
Gee whiz, that fellow didn’t miss anything, trees, rocks, fences, and
all the while he kept singing:
Follow your leader,
Follow your leader;
Follow your leader true.
If he starts to roll,
Or falls in a hole;
Or shins up a tree or a telegraph pole.
You have to do it too,
you do;
You have to do it too.
I can’t tell you about all the crazy things that fellow did. It looked
awful funny to see the rest of us following, especially Pee-wee with a
scowl all over his face. I guessed Hervey knew where he was going all
right because no matter what he did he always came back to a trail.
Pretty soon we came to the old railroad branch. A long time ago that
used to go to some mines. We followed the old tracks through the woods.
Hervey walked on one of the rails and we all tried to keep on it, but it
was hard balancing ourselves he went so fast.
I guess maybe we went a half mile that way and then we saw ahead of us a
funny kind of a car on the track. It wasn’t meant to carry people, it
was meant to carry iron ore, I guess. It was about as long as a very
young trolley car. A long iron bar, a funny kind of a coupling I guess
it was, stuck out from it. It was all open, like a great big scuttle,
kind of. There were piles of stones and earth and old holes all caved in
nearby. Those were the old iron mines, Hervey said.
“Gee whiz,” I told him, “I’ve been to Temple Camp every summer and I
never saw this place before. Christopher Columbus hasn’t got anything on
you.”
“Follow your leader wherever he goes,” he said, and over the end of the
car he went and, kerflop, down inside, all the rest of us after him.
There was straw inside.
That fellow couldn’t sit down long. In about ten seconds up he jumped
and shouted, “Follow your leader.”
I was so tired I could have just lain in that little car till Christmas,
but I got up and so did the others, all except Pee-wee.
“Come on, follow your leader,” I said.
“Not much,” he said; “I’m going to lie here and take a rest. I’ve had
enough funny-bone hiking. If you think I’m going to follow you all over
the Catskill Mountains without any dinner, you’re mistaken. I know the
way home from here, it’s easy. Go ahead and march into the Hudson River
if you want to for all I care.”
“Which way do we go from here?” Hervey asked him.
“We follow the tracks straight along,” the kid said. “That will bring us
to the turnpike and all we have to do is to go through Leeds. _There_,
you think you’re so smart.”
“Righto,” Hervey said; “just climb out of the other end of the car and
keep going, right along the track.”
“Smart kid,” I said.
“Do you think I’m going to be turning somersaults all the way home?” he
wanted to know. “The next time I join a parade it won’t be with a lot of
monkeys.”
“Those somersaults were all good turns,” Bert said.
“This place is good enough for me,” Pee-wee shot back at him.
So we left him there sprawled out on the straw and followed Hervey in
and out of old holes, kind of like caves, and all around and over piles
of earth and everything till pretty soon he stopped and said, panting
good and hard, “What do you say to a plot?”
“I take them three times a day and before retiring,” I said. “What kind
of a plot? A grass-plot?”
“Let’s have some fun with Pee-wee,” he said. “Did you hear him say he
knows the way home from here? He thinks all he has to do is to climb out
the other end of the car and keep going along the track to the
turnpike.”
“Well, isn’t that right?” Warde asked.
“Sure it’s right,” Hervey said; “only it depends on where the other end
of the car is. See? That car’s on a turntable if anybody should ask
you.”
“If it were a dinner table it would interest Pee-wee more,” I said.
“I noticed there was a kind of platform under it with grass growing
through the cracks,” Warde said.
“Come on, let’s see if he’s asleep and we’ll turn it around,” Hervey
said. “The woods look the same no matter which way you go. Follow your
leader.”
He started tiptoeing over to the tracks holding his finger against his
lips and we all did just the same. I had to laugh, it seemed so funny.
He kept singing, _Follow your leader_, in a whisper.
That fellow ought to be in my patrol, he’s so crazy.