These two roads ran parallel, speaking generally. The route by the hill road was a little shorter and had that advantage. For a part of the way it ran close to the brow of a cliff, and had that very decided disadvantage. In places the descent was almost precipitous.
The first couple of miles out of Snailsdale Manor the road ran along a narrow shelf about fifty feet above the lowland. Here the wall was sheer both below and above. On the right arose the rugged side of a mountain, on the left nothing but a ramshackle fence separated the road from the ledge. Then a point was reached where this precipitous wall eased off into a descent of about forty-five degrees, and then farther along, the natural embankment petered out altogether and from that point the road was safe and fairly wide.
The lower road, over which the boys had travelled earlier in the day, ran through an area as flat as a pancake. It was a tract of lowland between the hills. Here the fog must have been very thick that afternoon. In places the mud was always thick enough to make travel difficult. As stated, these two roads ran a parallel course, roughly speaking, and were from a mile to two miles apart. The area below was sparsely populated by a colony of small Italian farmers who lived in shanties. The neighborhood was called Venice, or Venus, as pronounced by Mr. Goodale.
Our travelers had to choose between these two routes on that dull, murky, late afternoon, when the whole world seemed fading away in thickening fog. Of course, if Pee-wee could have applied his customary policy he would have returned from the scene of his Waterloo by both roads. But that being impossible, the pair weighed the dangers and advantages one against another, and started home along the upper road. But as it happened Pee-wee used a number of roads in his operations and would have used still more if there had been any.
CHAPTER XVII
THE LAST SALLY
We are now to accompany our hero in his masterly retreat after the evacuation of Snailsdale Manor. We need not pause to describe the cowardly attack of the Snailsdalions, how they pulled the bunting from the departing float and how our hero, crouching on the edge of the roof behind the enormous sign, hurled volleys of deadly doughnuts at the pursuing legion.
Lemon jaw breakers (four for a cent) did duty as dumdum bullets, but the clamoring host, disregarding all the usages of civilized warfare, ate the ammunition and cried for more. Among the laughing multitude which enlivened the departure of our heroes, Pee-wee saw Hope Stillmore sitting with several girls in Everett Braggen’s flivver and laughing with them. Probably she intended no disrespect to her little rescuer and former pal; doubtless she could not help laughing.
“Come up again some time, Kiddo,” a young fellow in white flannels called; “you’re good for the blues.”
“Here’s one that’s good for the black and blues!” Pee-wee thundered as he dispatched half a muskmelon at the summer youth.