CHAPTER XXXVI—THE OTHER ENDING
Now if you want to know all about that, I mean what happened, you can find it in the Bridgeboro paper of the next day. Even newspaper reporters came from New York to find out about it. And they had articles and pictures and everything.
That was the first time in a good many years that the creek had backed up into the marsh. Always that creek flows into the river. But the river was so full that it made the creek back up, and I should worry about all that business, because this is vacation and I’m not thinking about geography. If the creek wanted to back up it’s none of my business. That’s between the creek and the river and the uncivil engineers, and I wouldn’t trouble my young life about it.
But, anyway, once a long time ago when a creek ran through that marsh there were some scows there. Some people called them barges. Anyway, they were canal boats. They used four of those to lay the tracks across when they ran the line up to town. The other three were pretty rotten, but the one that was made out of cedar was all right. The marsh kept the seams tight. As long as the hull was tight nothing could keep it down when the water rose. It would take more than those old rusty tracks to press it under water. Lucky for us our car was right on it. Afterwards they found that the other three barges had water in them up to the level of the water outside, and when the water rose it flowed right into them and they stayed on the bottom. That shows what cedar is.
So you see we got our car out of the marsh all right and when something goes wrong it’s better not to begin grouching till the next day—that’s what I say. Wait a couple of days, that’s better. Even if you wait a year it won’t do any harm.
SOME MEN THREW US A ROPE AND PULLED US ASHORE.
It was a dandy bright morning and the tide was just about full. We went drifting around the bend, just as nice as could be, flopping around this way and that, and I guess we must have looked pretty funny from the shore. Anyway, nobody saw us till we got to the Court House grounds. The Court House lawn runs right down to the river, and there are trees there and benches. The county jail is there, too, and the prisoners can see the river—a lot of good it does them. I’m glad I’m not a convict, that’s one thing. But, gee whiz, I came near to being one. The only reason I’m not one is because I didn’t commit a crime.
Now as we passed by there, who should we see sprawling under a tree near the shore but the five deserters from my patrol, Dorry Benton, Bad Manners, Charlie Seabury and the Warner twins.
I said, “Look at those five deserters, will you?”
The inventor wanted to know what a deserter was. “It’s a fellow that eats two helpings of dessert,” I told him.
“Give them a call,” Westy said; “they don’t see us.”
We all started shouting together, and then they looked up.
Good night!
“What do you call that?” one of them yelled. “Look what’s going by, will you!”
I shouted, “Good morning, it’s a beautiful afternoon this evening, isn’t it? Have you done your good turns yet?”
They all jumped up and stood on the shore, staring.
“What in the dickens——” one of them began.
“Will you look at that!” another one said.
“Where did you fellows come from?” Charlie Seabury called. “How did you get that car on a boat?”
“You forget we have brains,” I shouted, “even if we do belong in the same patrol with you. We’re just going for a little sail; we’ll be back in a couple of months. How did you like the movies?”
“Well—I’ll—be—jiggered!” Hunt Manners shouted, just staring at us.
I said, “Oh, don’t be jiggered so early in the morning. We’re just making a strategic retreat from Cat-tail Marsh while the mosquitoes are having breakfast. You know what strategy is, don’t you? You’ve heard of that?”
“We’re going across the ocean,” the inventor called.
“They’ll bump into the bridge at Hanley’s Crossing,” I heard one of them say to another.
“What do we care for a few bumps?” Will Dawson called. “Did you enjoy your sodas? So sorry we couldn’t join you, but our ship was sailing.”
“That shows what you get for not taking my advice,” Pee-wee screamed at them. “You stick to me and you’ll have adventures. You said you were disgusted with this old car. Now you see! It’s good I didn’t go to Temple Camp with the Ravens. Now you see! Ya-ha, ya-ha!”
“We can rave all right without the Ravens,” I said.
“Where are you going?” Dorry Benton called.
“Oh, we’re not particular,” I called back. “We’re going till we stop and then we won’t go any further. It’s so dull hanging around Bridgeboro. We should worry where we’re going.”
“We don’t know where we’re going but we’re on our way,” Will shouted at them.
“I’m captain,” the inventor shouted.
By that time we had drifted past them and it was too far to call and they just stood there, gaping. It was awful funny to see them.
They knew that we couldn’t get any further than Hanky’s Crossing because the tide was too high for us to go under the bridge there, and I knew they’d hike down there as fast as their legs would take them.
Sure enough, they were there waiting for us when we came flopping along. And a lot of other people were there, too. Gee whiz, everybody had heard about us by that time. We floated right up against the bridge—bump. And then some men threw us a rope and we fastened it to the old barge and they pulled us ashore. Everybody stared at us like the natives stared at Columbus Ohio when he landed on San Salvador.
We just walked ashore and I didn’t pay any attention to that bunch of quitters and I said, “This seems to be a nice place. We take possession of it in the name of the Boy Scouts of America. Are there any ice cream stores here?”
“This is Hanley’s Crossing,” a little girl spoke up.
I said, “It’s all right; wrap it up and we’ll take it home.”
Oh, boy, some excitement! We told our story and you ought to have seen everybody stare, especially those five fellows. I guess they envied us, all right.
I said, “It serves you fellows right for leaving us. We should have stayed all separated together. Now you see what comes from not having a scout smile. The face with the smile wins. You should apologize to the next rainstorm you see. While there’s life there’s adventure.”
“Do you think we’d let a marsh foil us?” Pee-wee said.
“Do you think we’d desert the poor, defenseless cat-tails for an ice cream soda?” Will said.
“You never can tell where a game of checkers will end,” said Westy.
“Or a car,” I said.
“If we have to go through fire and water we’ll win,” Pee-wee said.
“Hurrah for the silver-plated foxes!” I shouted.
Everybody stood around staring at us and laughing.
A man said, “Well, the bridge stopped you.”
“That’s different,” I told him.
He said, “Oh, I see.”
“Whatever happens is all right,” I said “Let’s hear you deny that.”
Pee-wee said, “Adventures are things that happen that aren’t supposed to happen.”
I said, “Sure. Some people follow adventures, but adventures follow us. That’s because we’re scouts.”
“We always have adventures,” Pee-wee said.
“Have you got any with you?” a fellow that was standing there wanted to know.
“We’ll have some more by to-morrow,” I told him. “Call and inspect our stock. Have you got any scouts down here?”
One of the men who was laughing said, “Not a one.”
“You’re lucky,” I told him.
He said, “Well, you kids had quite an experience.”
“That’s nothing,” Pee-wee said. “You don’t call that an experience. That was just a ride.”
“Worse things than that are going to happen,” the inventor piped up.
But not in this story, believe me. One fire and one flood are enough. Another chapter and we might have a world war and an earthquake—that’s what my sister said. She said adventures are all the time waiting for us. “Let them wait,” I told her; “what do we care?” My father said one good thing about us, anyway, and that is we don’t shoot people like Submarine Sam does in the book. We shoot the chutes, that’s about all we ever shoot. But just the same, we have a lot of fun. In the next story I’ll tell you how we got lost in a ferris wheel.
But I can’t bother to tell you now how we got our car back to Van Schlessenhoff’s field, for we’ve got enough on our hands getting our mushroom farm started down there by the river, and besides, we’ve got to go to Temple Camp. We’ve got to get up there in time for the lake carnival. Maybe I’ll tell you about that, too. Gee whiz, I know a lot of things to tell you. And I bet you’ll be surprised how we got our old car back to the field.
Anyway, I’ll tell you this much now. When we did get it back there we chained it down and built a stockade around it and blocked the wheels and locked the brakes and put paper weights on the roof.
Safety first. That’s what I say.
THE END
This Isn’t All!
Would you like to know what became of the good friends you have made in this book?
Would you like to read other stories continuing their adventures and experiences, or other books quite as entertaining by the same author?
On the reverse side of the wrapper which comes with this book, you will find a wonderful list of stories which you can buy at the same store where you got this book.
Don’t throw away the Wrapper
Use it as a handy catalog of the books you want some day to have. But in case you do mislay it, write to the Publishers for a complete catalog.
THE ROY BLAKELEY BOOKS
By PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH
Author of “Tom Slade,” “Pee-wee Harris,”
“Westy Martin,” Etc.
Illustrated. Picture Wrappers in Color.
Every Volume Complete in Itself.
In the character and adventures of Roy Blakeley are typified the very essence of Boy life. He is a real boy, as real as Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer. He is the moving spirit of the troop of Scouts of which he is a member, and the average boy has to go only a little way in the first book before Roy is the best friend he ever had, and he is willing to part with his best treasure to get the next book in the series.
ROY BLAKELEY
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ROY BLAKELEY, PATHFINDER
ROY BLAKELEY’S CAMP ON WHEELS
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ROY BLAKELEY’S MOTOR CARAVAN
ROY BLAKELEY, LOST, STRAYED OR STOLEN
ROY BLAKELEY’S BEE-LINE HIKE
ROY BLAKELEY AT THE HAUNTED CAMP
ROY BLAKELEY’S FUNNY BONE HIKE
ROY BLAKELEY’S TANGLED TRAIL
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ROY BLAKELEY’S ROUNDABOUT HIKE
GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK
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Author of “Roy Blakeley,” “Pee-wee Harris,”
“Westy Martin,” Etc.
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“Let your boy grow up with Tom Slade,” is a suggestion which thousands of parents have followed during the past, with the result that the TOM SLADE BOOKS are the most popular boys’ books published today. They take Tom Slade through a series of typical boy adventures through his tenderfoot days as a scout, through his gallant days as an American doughboy in France, back to his old patrol and the old camp ground at Black Lake, and so on.
TOM SLADE, BOY SCOUT
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TOM SLADE ON THE RIVER
TOM SLADE WITH THE COLORS
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TOM SLADE, MOTORCYCLE DISPATCH BEARER
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TOM SLADE AT BLACK LAKE
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TOM BLADE’S DOUBLE DARE
TOM SLADE ON OVERLOOK MOUNTAIN
TOM SLADE PICKS A WINNER
TOM SLADE AT BEAR MOUNTAIN
TOM SLADE: FOREST RANGER
TOM SLADE IN THE NORTH WOODS
GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK
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By PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH
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“Westy Martin,” Etc.
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All readers of the Tom Slade and the Roy Blakeley books are acquainted with Pee-wee Harris. These stories record the true facts concerning his size (what there is of it) and his heroism (such as it is), his voice, his clothes, his appetite, his friends, his enemies, his victims. Together with the thrilling narrative of how he foiled, baffled, circumvented and triumphed over everything and everybody (except where he failed) and how even when he failed he succeeded. The whole recorded in a series of screams and told with neither muffler nor cut-out.
PEE-WEE HARRIS
PEE-WEE HARRIS ON THE TRAIL
PEE-WEE HARRIS IN CAMP
PEE-WEE HARRIS IN LUCK
PEE-WEE HARRIS ADRIFT
PEE-WEE HARRIS F. O. B. BRIDGEBORO
PEE-WEE HARRIS FIXER
PEE-WEE HARRIS: AS GOOD AS HIS WORD
PEE-WEE HARRIS: MAYOR FOR A DAY
PEE-WEE HARRIS AND THE SUNKEN TREASURE
GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK
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LEFT END EDWARDS
LEFT TACKLE THAYER
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THE LITTLE WASHINGTONS
Their thrilling battles and expeditions generally end in “punishment” lessons read by Mrs. Parke from the “Life of Washington.” The culprits listen intently, for this reading generally gives them new ideas for further games of Indian warfare and Colonists’ battles.
THE LITTLE WASHINGTONS’ RELATIVES
The Davis children visit the Parke home and join zealously in the garnet of playing General Washington. So zealously, in fact, that little Jim almost loses his scalp.
THE LITTLE WASHINGTONS’ TRAVELS
The children wage a fierce battle upon the roof of a hotel in New York City. Then, visiting the Davis home in Philadelphia, the patriotic Washingtons vanquish the Hessians on a battle-field in the empty lot back of the Davis property.
THE LITTLE WASHINGTONS AT SCHOOL
After the school-house battle the Washingtons discover a band of gypsies camping near the back road to their homes and incidentally they secure the stolen horse which the gypsies had taken from the “butter and egg farmer” of the Parkes.
THE LITTLE WASHINGTONS’ HOLIDAYS
They spend a pleasant summer on two adjoining farms in Vermont. During the voyage they try to capture a “frigate” but little Jim is caught and about to be punished by the Captain when his confederates hasten in and save him.
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THE RIDDLE CLUB AT HOME
An absorbing tale that all boys and girls will enjoy reading. How the members of the club fix up a clubroom in the Larue barn, and how they, later on, helped solve a most mysterious happening, and how one of the members won a valuable prize, is told in a manner to please every young reader.
THE RIDDLE CLUB IN CAMP
The club members went into camp on the edge of a beautiful lake. Here they had rousing good times swimming, boating and around the campfire. They fell in with a mysterious old man known as The Hermit of Triangle Island. Nobody knew his real name or where he came from until the propounding of a riddle solved these perplexing questions.
THE RIDDLE CLUB THROUGH THE HOLIDAYS
This volume takes in a great number of winter sports, including skating and sledding and the building of a huge snowman. It also gives the particulars of how the club treasurer lost the dues entrusted to his care and what the melting of the great snowman revealed.
THE RIDDLE CLUB AT SUNRISE BEACH
This volume tells how the club journeyed to the seashore and how they not only kept up their riddles but likewise had good times on the sand and on the water. Once they got lost in a fog and were marooned on an island. Here they made a discovery that greatly pleased the folks at home.
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BY LEO EDWARDS
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Hundreds of thousands of boys who laughed until their sides ached over the weird and wonderful adventures of Jerry Todd and his gang demanded that Leo Edwards, the author, give them more boots like the Jerry Todd stories with their belt-bursting laughs and creepy shivers. So he took Poppy Ott, Jerry Todd’s bosom chum and created the Poppy Ott Series, and if such a thing could be possible—they are even more full of fun and excitement than the Jerry Todds.
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POPPY OTT AND THE STUTTERING PARROT
POPPY OTT AND THE SEVEN LEAGUE STILTS
POPPY OTT AND THE GALLOPING SNAIL
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JERRY TODD AND THE WHISPERING MUMMY
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JERRY TODD AND THE WALTZING HEN
JERRY TODD AND THE TALKING FROG
JERRY TODD AND THE PURRING EGG
JERRY TODD IN THE WHISPERING CAVE
GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK