Roy Blakeley's Bee-line Hike Part 2

"If it sliced a couple of slices off the High School that would be better," I said. "The High School just escapes. It crosses Main Street, I hope n.o.body trips over it."

"What do you mean? Trip over an imaginary line!" Pee-wee shouted at me.

"Sure," I said, "if you have a strong enough imagination. Oh, look where it goes right through Bennett's."

"Where?" the kid shouted. "Show me! _Where?_"

"Excuse me, I'm mistaken," I said. "It goes right--straight--wait a minute--it goes right straight through the dentist's--Dr. Wade's----"

"You make me tired!" Pee-wee yelled.

"Do you know what I'd like to do?" Westy said. "I'd like to start from here and go straight for that tree. A bee-line hike, that's what I'd call it. Let's see your compa.s.s, Kid. That tree is--just--wait a minute, hold still--that tree is just exactly--west. I'd like to start and hike right straight for it."

"How about buildings?" Hunt Manners wanted to know.

"If we came to buildings we'd have to go through them," Westy said.

"Through them or over them. Or under them. Or else we'd have to move them out of the way. We'd make a solemn vow that we wouldn't turn to the right or left for anybody or anything. We'd hike _right straight_ for that tree. What do you say?"

Oh, boy, you should have heard those fellows shout. That shows how crazy we are.

I said, "Carried by a large minority. All those who are unanimously in favor of a bee-line hike, eat another peanut. Settled. When shall we start? To-morrow morning? Righto!"

"No matter what happens we'll go right straight west," Dorry said.

"For the tree," Hunt Manners shouted.

"Even if we have to go a little----" the kid started.

"No, you don't," I said. "We go straight _through_ the dentist's."

"If things get in our way we'll use resources, hey?" he piped up.

"We'll use dynamite," I said. "Scouts of the Silver Fox Patrol _and_ Pee-wee Harris, First Bridgeboro, New Jersey, Troop B. S. A., all gather around your patrol leader and each give him six peanuts as a token of loyalty. That's the way the knights used to do in history----"

"It's a cinch being a patrol leader," Dorry said.

"Keep still," I told him, "and give me two more peanuts. Do you think I don't know how to count? Now all raise your hands and stick your thumbs in your ears while I say the vow. Ready? Go:

"Before the sun sinks in the sink to-morrow night, we, the members of the sterling silver triple-plated Fox Patrol will plant our patrol emblem under the branches of yonder popular tree, having taken a course due west from this swing seat on my porch, and turned neither to right nor left on the way even if we have to go through school again----"

"Even if we have to go through the mathematics room," Dorry shouted.

"And hereby we pledge ourselves with ten more peanuts each to our gallant patrol leader----"

"Have a heart," Westy said; "what is this? A hike or a monopoly?"

"It's a go," I said. "Nothing will stop us now. The world must be made safe for the Boy Scouts of America! Give me another peanut, somebody.

Food will win the war. Hurrah, for the Silver-plated Fox Patrol and the bee-line hike!"

CHAPTER IV

WE START

Now I'll have to tell you about where I live and about Bridgeboro and all that, so you'll know the country we invaded. But you needn't think I'm going to bother you with geography because, gee whiz, I have no use for that. Believe me, when you see my picture on the cover of a book you'll know there is no history or geography or anything like that in it. And the only figures you'll see are the numbers of the pages, because I should worry about figures in vacation.

But anyway it's dandy up where I live. My father owns a lot of property up there and so everybody calls it Blakeley's hill. It's in Bridgeboro but kind of just outside of Bridgeboro--you know what I mean.

Maybe you know how it is with towns that have rivers running through them. Rivers run through valleys--that shows how smart I am. There is always high land on both sides of a river. I don't mean it has to be right close to the river.

Now this is the way it is where I live. Blakeley's hill isn't a hill exactly, it's a ridge. It runs along the same way the river runs. The state road runs along that ridge and our house is on the state road only it's way back from the road. We've got a dandy grapevine. We've got a sun parlor, too. That's where Mr. Blakeley's son sits and reads on rainy days. That's why we call it a sun parlor.

Now if you sit on our porch you can look down over Bridgeboro; you get a peach of a view. Beyond Bridgeboro you can see the river. That's where the town ends--at the river. There are a lot of turtles in that river.

Across the river the land is low until you come to the other ridge. Now the s.p.a.ce between the two ridges is the valley of the river. Correct, be seated.

In that low land between the river and the other ridge is Little Valley; that's a village. It's where Harry Donnelle lives. He's got a Cadillac, that fellow has. Lots of times he treats us to soda, but he won't be a scoutmaster. Oh, boy, but he'd make a dandy one. Little Valley isn't very big; it hasn't got its eyes open yet.

When you get past Little Valley there's a kind of a small hill and then you come to the ridge. Up on top of the ridge is that big tree that Westy was squinting at. There are a lot of other trees up there but that one is bigger than any of them. Anywhere between my house and that other ridge you can see that tree. Down in Bridgeboro maybe there are places where you can't see it on account of buildings, but most always you can see it. If you could have a string from my porch to that tree, the string would be right over Bridgeboro and the river and Little Valley and that other small hill. So now you know just how it is. From my porch to that tree is about seven miles as the crow flies, and believe me the crows have it easy compared to the boy scouts.

So now our troubles begin. If you want to follow us, all right, it's up to you. I should worry. We have troubles of our own.

The next morning we started from my porch. We reminded ourselves of the Pilgrims and Christopher Columbus and a lot of other people you meet in school. Our young hero, P. Harris, was all decorated up like a band wagon, belt-axe, badges, compa.s.s, cooking set, a big coil of rope and the horn part of a phonograph. He had that hanging over his back like a soldier's pack. The only thing he forgot to bring was the player piano from his house.

"What's that phonograph horn for?" Westy asked him.

"It's to use as a megaphone," he said. "Suppose we want to--to--shout for a----"

"House to get out of the way?" I said.

"You never can tell when we may want to use it," he said.

"I'm sorry I didn't bring my mother's sewing machine along," Dorry said.

"We don't need that with this kid along," I said. "We'll have enough st.i.tches in our sides from laughing."

"We ought to have some mothers and sweethearts and things to weep when we start off," the kid said.

I said, "I don't believe I've got any sweethearts around the house just at present, but wait a minute and I'll see."

"Tell them to bring some handkerchiefs," Westy said.

"And a couple of buckets of tears," Hunt Manners piped up.

I went inside and called to my mother and my sister Marjorie and asked them if they could come out on the porch and weep. My mother said she was very busy but she'd come and weep for about a minute. _When they came out they were crying--from laughing so hard._