“Sure,” says I. “I’ll wander around looking for a board to trip over. Like one with a nail in it, wouldn’t you? I’d just as soon step on a nail if it’ll help you out.”
“What I want,” says he, “is a broad board about as tall as a man.”
“Anyhow,” says I, “I’m glad you’re not looking for a darning needle. I don’t know as I could manage to stumble on a darning needle tonight.”
“Wonder where we are?” says he.
“In a place I don’t like,” says I.
“You’ll be in one you like less pretty soon,” he says.
Well, we found out where we were in a couple of minutes and this is the way we did it: It was as easy as falling off a log. Of course you have to know how, and it isn’t everybody who knows how. I guess there aren’t many people beside me who could have managed to do it, but that doesn’t swell my head any. No. The thing it swelled was my nose. This nose I’m wearing now. I don’t believe it looks like the nose I used to have—exactly—but it works pretty good, and only a few people have complained of it. I can still sneeze with it, and that’s a good deal. We were going along as fast as we could, with our shoes full of sand, and wondering where we were at. As I say, I was the one who found out. If you’re going to a place straight ahead but have kind of lost track of yourself, somebody will tell you to follow your nose, and you’ll get there. I followed mine, and it led me ker-slam against a wall! My nose was a couple of inches ahead of the rest of me, so it found the wall first. It found it so hard that it closed up like an accordion against the rest of my face and then bounced me back. For a minute it wasn’t dark any more. No. It was a regular Fourth of July. I said something out loud.
“What’s the matter,” says Catty.
“I’ve poked a hole in a plank with my nose,” says I, grabbing hold of it and trying to straighten it out. It wasn’t bleeding, thank goodness. “I’ve found your board,” says I, “but maybe it won’t be any good. Maybe I’ve busted it,” says I.
“Where?” says he.