WE RETRACE OUR STEPS
He marched along the tracks for about half a mile, through the woods. As
he went along I remembered what Uncle Jeb said, that the woods look
different when you’re going in the opposite direction from which you
came. He said the way a tree looks depends on where you stand. And it’s
the same with hills and everything. So that’s why the woods only look
familiar when you’re going the same way that you went before. That’s the
reason for blazing trails.
Uncle Jeb says a person looks different front and back and it’s the same
with woods. Pee-wee marched along back the same way we had come, very
bold and sure.
After a while he said, “I don’t know why we don’t come to the turnpike.”
“Maybe it’s because it isn’t here,” I said.
“Are you sure you’re going the right way?” Bert asked him.
“Sure I’m sure,” he said; “only it’s longer than I thought it was.”
“Maybe it got stretched,” I said.
Pee-wee just kept trudging along and he said, “Maybe it seems long
because we’re kind of played out.”
“Oh, we don’t care as long as you get us home,” Garry said.
“We trust you implicitly,” Warde told him.
“You’re our guiding light,” Garry said.
Pee-wee just trudged on.
Pretty soon he said, “As long as you’re all so tired, maybe I can
find—I think I know a short cut.”
“Take us the way the raven flies,” I said; “the shorter the quicker.”
“I can see a road over there through the trees,” he said. “That goes
into the turnpike. It’ll be easier walking on the road.”
“As long as you know you’re going the right way,” I said.
_“Sure_ I’m going the right way,” he said; “what’s the use of getting
scared. We’ll be home in twenty minutes.”
“That’ll be nice,” Garry said.
“Won’t I be glad!” said Bert.
“Just you follow me,” Pee-wee said.
“We’re following,” I told him. “We’re following our leader wherever he
goes. We know the animal cracker knows the woods. Have another apple?”
Next he left the tracks and cut over to the left where we could see a
road through the trees. He hit into the road and hiked along.
“Sure you’re right?” Bert asked him.
“Do you think I don’t know the way?” the kid said, very disgusted.
“Don’t start to ask questions, or hint, or propose,” I said.
Pretty soon he came to a crossroad and _g-o-o-d night magnolia!_ Right
there, staring us in the face was the fickle signboard that I had turned
around. Oh boy, you should have seen Pee-wee. The apple he was eating
fell out of his hand and he just stood there staring. He couldn’t even
speak.
“Don’t ask where you’re headed for nobody knows,” Hervey said.
I said, “Have no fear, our gallant leader is with us. Raving ravens do
not get rattled. Trust to Scout Harris. He knows the way. Follow your
leader.”
Maybe that signboard had been a pinwheel, but there it was at the very
same spot where it had been before.
Warde said, “That’s one good thing about scouts, they always come back.”
I said, “Pee-wee led us the right way, only in the wrong direction.”
“Just as you said,” Garry put in, “the turnpike has disappeared. That’s
why I never liked turnpikes, they’re so fickle.”
“There’s something wrong here!” the kid shouted.
“Sure,” I said, “it isn’t your fault, it’s the turnpike’s.”
“I started in the right direction,” Pee-wee shouted, “and I kept going
in the right direction, you can’t deny it. I’d like to know how we got
here?”
“That’s what _I’d_ like to know,” I said.
“I suppose we just walked here,” Bert said; “we followed our leader.”
Hervey started singing:
The turnpike turned round
And the trail it got bent,
We followed our leader wherever he went.
“Anyway, I’m sure I started in the right direction,” the kid said; “I
don’t care what anybody says.”
I said, “Sure, if the right direction changes its mind that isn’t your
fault. Come on, let’s go back. It’s long past dinner-time.”
“Let Warde be leader,” Hervey said; “he’s the only one here who has any
sense.”
So we started following Warde back along the trail till we came to the
railroad tracks and along those to the little iron ore car.
Hervey said, “The best way to find out which way to go is to spin the
car around and call the coupling the arrow-head and go whichever way
that points.”
“You’re crazy,” Pee-wee shouted. “Will you talk sense and let’s start
for camp? We’ve been starting for camp all morning.”
“That’s the right way to do,” I told him; “have a lot of different
starts and if you can’t use one you can use another. Didn’t you ever
hear of having two strings to your bow? A scout should never try to go
anywhere without having two or three extra starts.”
Just then Hervey and Bert and Garry started moving the turntable around
and, _good night_, you should have seen Pee-wee stare. All of a sudden
he went up like a sky rocket.
“Now I know what you did!” he yelled. “You turned this around while I
was asleep—you can’t deny it. You made the right direction the wrong
one!”
I said, “The right direction is just as much right now as it ever was.
You can’t blame us.”
“You’re all crazy!” he screamed. “Are we going to go home to camp and
get something to eat or not? Do you think I’m going to starve?”
“Not while you’re conscious,” I said. “Would you like to lead the way
foodward or shall we elect another leader? What say we all? Shall
Pee-wee lead us to the promised land or not? Answer, _not_. You’re
rejected by a large plurality.”
“Let Garry try it,” Hervey said. “Warde’s all right only he has too much
sense.”
So that time we started in the right direction, following the old tracks
toward the turnpike, with Garry leading us. We kept singing _Follow your
leader_ just the same as before.