I guess Pee-wee dreamed of pie that night. Anyway he didn’t wake up very
early in the morning. When the train stopped at Cleveland for eats, he
was dead to the world. The rest of us all went into the railroad station
for breakfast and Harry took a couple of sandwiches and a hard boiled
egg and a bottle of milk back to the train for our young hero when he
should wake up.
When we were eating breakfast in the station, Harry said, “Well, I see
that none of you kids has ever been out west before. Hadn’t we better
set our watches?”
I looked up at the clock in the station and, _good night_, then I knew
why he and Brent had been jollying Pee-wee the night before. The dock in
the station was an hour behind my watch.
“Western time, boys,” Harry said; “set _your_ watches back.”
“And keep still about it when you go back on the train,” Rossie said,
“if you want to see some fun.”
“We’ve lost an hour,” Westy said.
“Don’t you care,” Brent said; “don’t bother looking for it; we’ll find
it coming back.”
Gee whiz, I had to laugh when I thought of Pee-wee lying sound asleep in
his upper berth with his trusty boy scout watch under his pillow. When
we went back on the train all the berths except Pee-wee’s were made into
seats. There were only about a half a dozen passengers besides ourselves
in that car, and Harry went around asking them all not to mention to
Pee-wee about western time.
I guess it was about a half an hour later the kid woke up. He was so
sleepy that he never thought about the time till after he had got washed
and dressed, then he came staggering through the car wanting to know
where we were. The rest of us were all sprawling in the seats and the
passengers were smiling, because I guess they knew what was coming.
Harry said, “Sit down here and have some breakfast, Kid. We thought we
wouldn’t bother you to get up when we stopped in Cleveland. What time
have you got?”
Pee-wee hauled out his old boy scout turnip and said, “It’s half past
nine.”
Harry said, “Oh, not quite as bad as that; boy scouts don’t sleep till
half past nine. It’s just—let’s see—it’s just about half past eight.”
Then he showed his watch to Pee-wee, kind of careless like.
By that time we were all crowding around waiting to see the fun and the
passengers were all looking around and kind of smiling.
Harry said, “Sit down and eat your breakfast, Kid, and don’t let that
old piece of junk fool you. What time have you got, Roy?”
I could hardly keep a straight face, but I said, “About half past
eight.”
“You see, it’s just as I told you, Kid,” Harry said. “As soon as you go
to sleep those boy scout watches take advantage of you. I wouldn’t trust
one of them any more than I’d trust a pickpocket. How about that,
Brent?”
“Oh, I’ve met some pretty honest pickpockets,” Brent said. “Of course,
some of them are dishonest. But it’s the same as it is in every other
business; some are honest and some are not. I’ve seen some good, honest,
hard working pickpockets. What time is it, Tom Slade?”
Gee whiz, I was afraid when Tom took out his watch, because he usually
stands up for Pee-wee, and I was afraid he’d let him know. But he just
looked at his watch, very sober, and said, “Pretty nearly twenty minutes
of nine.”
“You all make me sick!” Pee-wee yelled. “You think you’re smart, don’t
you? You all got together and changed your watches.”
“This is the same watch I always carried,” Brent said.
“I mean you all changed the time,” Pee-wee shouted; “you think you can
put one over on me, don’t you?”
“That watch would be all right for a paperweight, Kid,” Rossie said, “or
for an anchor when you go fishing.”
“It’s all right to keep time, too,” the kid shouted.
“It doesn’t _keep_ it, it lets it out,” Harry said; “did you have the
cover closed? A whole hour has sneaked away on you.”
“Maybe it leaks a little,” Brent said.
“There may be a short circuit in the minute hand,” Harry said.
“That watch is right!” the kid shouted. “That’s a boy scout watch and
it’s guaranteed for a year.”
“Well, it’s an hour ahead of the game,” Harry said. “You ask any one of
these gentlemen the correct time.”
Oh, boy, I had to laugh. Pee-wee went through the aisle holding his
precious old boy scout watch in his hand, asking the different
passengers what time it was. Every single one of them took out his watch
and showed the kid how he was an hour wrong. All of a sudden, in came
the conductor and Harry winked at him and said, “What’s the correct
time, Cap?”
“Eight thirty-eight,” the conductor said.
Harry said, “There you are, Kiddo; what have you got to say now?”
Gee whiz, the kid didn’t have _anything_ to say. He just stood there
gaping at his watch and then staring around and the passengers could
hardly keep straight faces.
The conductor caught on to the joke and he winked at Harry and said,
“Those toy watches aren’t expected to keep time.”
Harry said, “Oh, no, but he’ll have a real watch when he grows up. He’s
young yet. He can take this one apart and have a lot of fun with the
works.”
“Somebody set this watch ahead—some of you fellows did!” Pee-wee
shouted. “It was right last night. It keeps good time. Somebody played a
trick on me! This is a what-do-you-call-it—a conspiracy. You’re all in
it.”
Just then we passed a station and there was a clock in a steeple. Harry
said, “You don’t claim that clock in the church steeple is in the
conspiracy, do you? Look at it. _Now_ what have you got to say?”
Then the conductor put his arm over Pee-wee’s shoulder and he said,
“Didn’t you ever hear of western time, son? The next time you’re
traveling west you just drop an hour at Cleveland station and you’ll
find it waiting there for you when you come back.”
“Sure,” I told him; “did you notice that big box on the platform? That’s
where they keep them. It’s all full of hours.”
The kid just stood there, staring. I guess he didn’t know _what_ to
believe.
“Set your watch back an hour and don’t let them fool you,” the conductor
said, and then he began laughing.
“And remember that western time is different from eastern time,” Rossie
said.
“Oh, sure, everything is different out west,” Harry put in. “I like the
western time better.”
“Eastern time is good enough for me,” Brent said; “I always preferred
it.”
“And if you should ever happen to be crossing the Pacific Ocean on any
of your wild adventures, Kid,” Harry said, “don’t forget to set your
watch back one day when you cross the equator.”
“If it’s one day I wouldn’t have to set it back at all,” Pee-wee said.
“Three o’clock to-day is the same as three o’clock yesterday.”
“It would be better to set it back and be sure,” Harry said.
“Oh, yes, safety first,” Brent said; “there might be a slight
difference. One three o’clock might look like another, but there’s a
difference.”
“How do you know when you cross the equator?” I asked Harry.
He said, “You can tell by the bump. Sometimes the ship just glides over
it easily and you can’t tell at all unless you look.”
“It’s best to shift gears going over the equator,” Brent said; “go into
second and stay in second till you get up the hill.”
“What hill?” Pee-wee wanted to know. “You make me sick; there aren’t any
hills on the ocean.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Rossie Brent said. “If you go to Coney
Island and watch a ship coming toward you from way out on the ocean, you
see the top of the masts first, don’t you? Then after a while you see
the whole ship. That’s because it’s coming up hill. See?”
“You should worry about hills, Kid,” I said; “go ahead and eat your
breakfast.”
V—THE CARAVAN
I guess by now you must think we’re all crazy; I should worry. I just
thought I’d tell you that about Pee-wee’s watch because, gee, it had us
all laughing. So already you’ve lost an hour reading this story; don’t
you care.
Now we didn’t have any more adventures on that trip. We didn’t do much
except eat and, gee whiz, you wouldn’t call that having adventures. Late
that night we got to Klucksville and we stayed at the hotel till
morning. They have dandy wheat cakes at that hotel. And syrup, _mm_,
_mm_! Then we went to the auto works and the four cars were all ready
for us, because Mr. Junkum had sent a telegram to say we were coming.
Oh, boy, you should have seen that big van, a regular gypsy wagon. On
the outside was painted,
JOLLY & KIDDER
THE MAMMOTH STORE
EVERYTHING FOR THE HOME
It was all enclosed and there was an electric light inside and steps to
go up to it and everything. There were kind of lockers inside too; I
guess they were for small bundles, hey? The kind that mothers buy and
then send back again, because they don’t fit.
Gee whiz, there wasn’t much to see in Klucksville. We could have brought
the whole town home with us in the van if we had wanted to,—all except
the auto works. We didn’t waste much time there because Harry wanted to
get an early start and go as far as we could the first day. But anyway,
we stopped long enough in the village to have a man print a big sign on
canvas that we tacked on the van. It said,
MISSOURI TO NEW YORK
SHOULD WORRY ABOUT RAILROADS
BOY SCOUTS ON THE JOB!
WE WORK WHILE OTHERS LOAF
BE PREPARED
Besides that we bought three straw mattresses and an oil stove and some
canned stuff. We didn’t need to buy much except food, because we had a
lot of camping stuff along. We got cans of beans and soup and tuna fish
and some egg powder and Indian meal, because I can make lots of things
with that. Gee whiz, I can’t tell you all the stuff we bought, but if
you watch us you’ll see us eating it. Believe me, we ate everything
except the straw mattresses. Harry said the Kluck was a pretty good car
for eating up the miles, but believe me, it hasn’t got anything on us
when it comes to eating.
Now this is the way we started. First was a touring car with Tom Slade
driving it. He’s awful sober, kind of. But you can have a lot of fun
with him. He has no use for candy, but he’s got a lot of sense about
other things. I can always make him laugh—leave it to me. Next came
another touring car with Rossie Bent driving it. He had a pasteboard
sign on his and it said,
WE’RE FROM MISSOURI,
WE’LL SHOW YOU
Next came Brent Gaylong in the other touring car and he had a pasteboard
sign that said,
YOU’RE IN LUCK
IF YOU GET A KLUCK
-----
FROM THE WOOLLY WEST
-----
BOUND FOR LITTLE OLD NEW YORK;
After that came the big van with Harry driving it.
Now we fellows were supposed to live in the van, but we didn’t do much
except sleep in it. Most of the time we were riding in the different
cars. A lot of the time I sat with Tom Slade. Mostly the Warner twins
rode in the car with Rossie Bent. Charlie Seabury and Westy were in
Brent Gaylong’s car a lot of the time. Will Dawson got sleepy a lot so
he was in the van mostly. Pee-wee rode in all the different cars at
once, but most of the time in the van, on account of that being the
commissary department. Wherever you see a commissary department, look
for Pee-wee. Commissary is his middle name. Sometimes he was up on top
of the van dancing around. He’s awful light on his feet. He came near
lighting on his head a couple of times.
So now I’m going to tell you about that trip.
VI—STRANDED
I guess you’ll say this story is a lot of nonsense, but anyway, those
big fellows were worse than the rest of us. Harry said it didn’t make
any difference if we were foolish, because even a dollar hasn’t as much
cents as it used to have—that’s a joke. Anyway Harry had plenty of
dollars that Mr. Junkum gave him for expenses. He told us the people who
were buying the cars paid part of the money. And anyway, my patrol saved
them some money on account of knowing all about camping and cooking and
all that. Harry said it was more fun than if we stayed at hotels all the
time. Gee whiz, I hate hotels—hotels and spinach. But once I went to a
peach of a fire when a hotel burned down. That’s one good thing about
hotels, anyway.
Now about noontime that day the road crossed the railroad station at a
place called Squash Centre. It crosses it there every day, I guess,
Sundays and holidays and all. Anyway, it crossed it there that day.
Pee-wee was sitting on the seat beside Harry and he shouted, “Squash
Centre; I like pumpkin better.” As soon as he saw the word squash right
away he thought about pie.
There were only about six houses there and the railroad station. On the
platform were a lot of funny looking people and they had a couple of big
dogs tied by ropes. They had a lot of boxes and bags and things standing
around them on the platform. Most of the squashes of Squash Centre were
standing around a little way off laughing at them. The man that was
holding the dogs had on a long black coat and a high hat and he needed
to be shaved. His coat didn’t have any cloth on the buttons. He had long
hair sticking out from under his hat.
Harry said, “Well, well, we sure are out west. Here’s poor old Uncle
Tom’s Cabin, bag and baggage.” Then he called down to the man with the
black coat and said, “How about you, old top? Stranded?”
Then all the squashes of Squash Centre set up a howl.
The man said, very dignified like, “Thank you, for your inquiry, young
sir, and might I ask if you came through Jones’ Junction? Are there any
trains running?”
By that time our whole caravan had stopped and all the squashes got
around and began staring at us.
Harry said, “I don’t believe there are any trains except eastern trains.
I don’t believe there’s anything that stops this side of Indianapolis.
How far are you going? What’s the matter, didn’t you hit it right among
the squashes?”
The man said, “The squashes are without art or patriotism. I thank you
for your information, sir. We are both stalled and stranded. We have
neither a train to travel on nor money to travel on it if we had. Our
friends have not welcomed us as we hoped they would. We have a promising
engagement at Grumpy’s Cross-roads some hundred miles distant, where we
are under contract with Major Hezekiah Grumpy to give six performances
at the Grand Army reunion there. Major Grumpy, sir, fought bravely to
stamp out the evil which our play depicts with such pathos.” That was
just the way he talked.
Harry said, “So they are having a reunion at Grumpy’s Cross-roads, are
they?”
“A very magnificent affair, sir,” that’s just what the man said, “and
the major has contracted with us for the presentation of our heart
stirring drama with the view of having the dramatic part of the
celebration appropriate.”
Geewhiz, it was awful funny to hear him talk.
VII—A GOOD TURN
That man’s name was Archibald Abbington, and he talked dandy, just as if
he had learned it out of a book. One of those other people told us that
his right name was Henry Flynn. I felt sorry for them, that’s one sure
thing. And, oh, boy, but those were two peachy dogs they had. The thing
those dogs did mostly was to chase Eliza. Miss Le Farge, she was the one
that played Eliza. They never let anybody feed the dogs except her, so
they’d be sure to chase her.
Harry said, “Why don’t you let them chase some of these squashes away?
They stand around gaping just as if they never saw a human being before.
How far is Grumpy’s Cross-roads anyway?”
Mr. Abbington said, “It’s a matter of a hundred miles or thereabout.”
Gee, he was crazy about that word _thereabout_. Then he said that they
had a contract with Major Grumpy to give their first performance the
next afternoon at the Grand Army reunion, but he didn’t know what they
would do because they were stranded.
Harry was awful nice to him. He said, “Well, it looks as if you were in
a kind of a tight place, Archy, and I wish we could help you out. We’re
reproducing the good old times, too, as you might say, with our overland
caravan. These are boy scouts who are taking care of our commissary
department and this is their gallant leader, Roy Blakeley. How about it,
Roy? Do you think we could squeeze in a good turn, just to vary the
monotony? You’re the boss of that end of the outfit. It would mean
driving all night instead of stopping to camp as we meant to do. Let’s
look on the map and see where Grumpy’s Cross-roads is, anyway.”
I said, “The more the merrier; I don’t care where it is or how long it
takes us to get there. We’ll take you. That’s our middle name, doing
good turns.”
“We give shows ourselves sometimes,” Pee-wee said. “We have a movie
apparatus and we give movie shows. But one thing, we’ve never been
stranded.”
Brent said in that funny way of his, “But we hope to be, sometime; we
can’t expect to have everything at once.”
Mr. Abbington said, awful dignified like, “We have been stranded many
times, sir. I can assure you it is not pleasant, especially when one of
our company is ill.”
Gee whiz, I could see plain enough that one of them wasn’t feeling good;
that was the one they called Miss De Voil—she played Topsy. Maybe the
squashes disagreed with her, hey?
Harry said, “Well, it’s up to you kids, Roy. Grumpy’s Cross-roads is
east, so it isn’t exactly out of our way, only we’ll have to hit into a
pretty punk road and there’ll be no sleeping around the camp-fire
to-night. What do you say?”
Mr. Abbington and all the rest of those people looked at us kids awful
anxious, sort of. Gee, it made me feel sorry for them. All of a sudden
Pee-wee piped up. He said, “Camp-fires aren’t the principal things in
scouting; good turns come first. Anyway, once I heard that actors always
help each other and maybe, kind of, you might say we’re actors, because
sometimes we give shows.”
Mr. Abbington said, “I am delighted to hear that, my young friend. Let
me ask you what you have played.”
“He plays the harmonica when nobody stops him,” Westy said.
I said, “Oh, sure, he’s a peachy actor; he plays dominoes and tennis and
tiddle-de-winks. The most stirring part he ever plays is when he stirs
his coffee.”
Miss Le Farge said to another one of those ladies, “Oh, isn’t he just
too cute?”
So then we helped them get all their stuff into the van. They had a tent
and a lot of other things. Harry whispered to me that he guessed they
hadn’t had any supper and he said he was afraid if we didn’t give them
something to eat the man that played the slave driver wouldn’t have
strength enough to whip Uncle Tom the next afternoon. Brent said maybe
even Uncle Tom wouldn’t have strength enough to stand up and be whipped.
He said, “We’d better feed them up.”
So we made a fire in the grove right alongside the road so as not to
interfere with Miss De Voil, who was lying on one of the mattresses in
the van. We told the ladies that they could have the van all to
themselves that night so they could get good and rested. I fried some
bacon for them and heated some beans and we got water out of the
railroad station.
Gee whiz, the water was the only thing about that railroad that was
running.
VIII—GRUMPY
We ran the cars all that night so as to get those people to Grumpy’s
Cross-roads in the morning. The ladies slept in the van, all except one;
she was the one that played Aunt Ophelia. In the play she had to be
strict, like a school teacher kind of, with Topsy. But when she wasn’t
in the play she was awful nice. She sat up all night in Rossie Bent’s
car, because she said she liked the fresh air. Mr. Abbington and Harry
sat together outside the van. I didn’t get sleepy much. The rest of the
fellows sprawled in Tom Slade’s car and Brent Gaylong’s car, and were
dead to the world. It was nice traveling in the night only we had to go
slow. We went across a kind of a prairie and every once in a while we
came to farms. It was dandy to see the sun come up in the morning.
About five o’clock we came to a village and we asked a man how far it
was to Grumpy’s Crossroads. He must have got up before breakfast, that
man. He said it was about thirty-five miles, but that we’d have to go
very slow on account of the road being all stones. We had to drive those
cars easy, because they were supposed to be delivered new.
The man said, “If you’re bound east why didn’t you hit the south road
and cut out Grumpy’s Crossroads altogether?”
Harry said, “Because these people have to appear at the Grand Army
reunion at Grumpy’s Cross-roads this afternoon and we’ve got to get them
there.”
The man said, “If that’s all you’re going to the Cross-roads for, you
might as well take the south road. Bill Thorpe, he was t’the Cross-roads
yesterday en’ he said th’ Uncle Tom’s Cabin show was called off on
’count of thar bein’ no trains runnin’. He said ole Major Grumpy was
tearin’ ’is hair like a wild Injun at th’ railroad unions.”
Harry said, “Is that so? Well, I hope he won’t have his hair all pulled
out by 2 P. M. Do you suppose old Grump ever heard of the Boy Scouts of
America?”
“I’ll tell him all about them!” Pee-wee shouted. “You just leave it to
me.”
The man was smoking a pipe and it kind of smelled like a forest fire. It
smelled like a forest fire and a gas engine put together, kind of. He
laid his pipe down on the step of the van so we’d know that what he was
going to say was very serious.
He said, “You take my advice en’ daon’t mention no scaout boys t’the
major; it’s like wavin’ a red flag before a bull as yer might say.”
“Doesn’t like ’em, hey?” Harry said.
“Hates ’em,” the man said.
“Eats ’em alive, I suppose,” Brent said.
“He’d eat ’em raw, only he ain’t got teeth enough,” the man said.
Brent said in that funny way he has, “Well, I guess that settles it,
we’ll hit the trail for the Cross-roads; I kind of like old Grump
already. I have a kind of a hunch he’ll put some pep into this
Lewis & Clarke expedition. All we needed to make our joy complete was
somebody to try to foil us.”
“Cracky, I hope he tries to foil us,” Pee-wee piped up.
“Is he a villain?” Brent wanted to know.
“Wall, he ain’t just exactly what you might call a villain,” the man
said, very serious.
Brent said, “Oh, that’s too bad. We haven’t got a villain for our story
yet. I suppose we’ll have to advertise when we hit into Indianapolis.
‘Wanted, willing and industrious villain; one with some experience
preferred; good chance for advancement; duties, being foiled by the Boy
Scouts of America.’”
The man said, “Guess you’re a kind of a comic, hey?”
“What’s the trouble between old Grump and the kids, anyway?” Harry asked
him.
The man said, “Wall, naow, I’ll tell you. Th’ major’s an old Civil War
man en’ he’s a great stickler on military training for boys; ain’t got
no use for studyin’ natur’ en’ all that kind o’ thing. He’s daft abaout
the Civil War, en’ he’s jest abaout th’ biggest old grouch this side o’
th’ Missippi River. This here reunion o’ his, every three years, is the
pet uv his heart, as th’ feller says. He has th’ poor ole veterans
limpin’ in from miles araound fillin’ ’em up with rations en’ givin’ ’em
shows. He’s got money enough so’s ter make the United States Treasury
look like a poor relation; and _stingy_!”
“That sounds fine,” Brent said; “we’ll have him eating out of our hands;
we’ll have him so he comes when we call him. First I was in hopes we
might fall in with some train robbers——”
“Gee, it isn’t too late yet!” Pee-wee shouted.
“But a ferocious old major is good enough,” Brent said; “we can’t expect
to have everything. You’re positive about his hating the Boy Scouts, are
you?” he asked the man. “Because we shouldn’t want to count on that and
then be disappointed. It’s pretty hard when you think you’ve found a
regular scoundrel and then find that you’re deceived. Are you willing to
guarantee him?”
“Wall, I wouldn’ say exactly as he’s a _villain_,” the man said; “but
he’s a ole wild beast, so everybuddy says, en’ I’m tellin’ yer not to
wave no red flag in front uv him with a lot uv this scaout boy nonsense.
’Cause he ain’t in the humor, see?”
Harry said, “Do you know, Brent, I think the old codger will do first
rate.”
“Oh, he’ll do,” Brent said; “of course, it isn’t like finding a pirate,
or a counterfeiter, or an outlaw——”
“You make me tired!” Pee-wee yelled. “If Roy’s going to write all this
stuff up, we have to have an old grouch, so as we can convert him sort
of, don’t we, and then he’ll—then he’ll—what-d’ye-call-it—he’ll
donate a lot of money and say the boy scouts are all right. I’ll manage
him, you leave him to me.”
Brent said, “You don’t happen to know if he has a gold-haired daughter,
do you?”
Gee whiz, I guess that man thought we were crazy—I should worry. Even
the Uncle Tom’s Cabin people were laughing.
Brent said, “Because if our young hero could only rescue old Grump’s
gold-haired daughter from kidnappers, perhaps old Grump would come
across with a real watch that keeps time as a reward for our young
hero’s bravery. I think we’ll have to try our hand with old Grump.”
“Are you—are you _sure_ he’s mad at the scouts?” Pee-wee wanted to
know.
“Tell us the worst,” Harry said.
[Illustration: THE BLOODHOUND BEGAN SNIFFING THE FOOTPRINT.]