“I’m afraid they haven’t even a rural mail delivery,” said Mrs. Harris. “Your Uncle Charlie, who went up for the hunting several years ago, said that the only living things he saw up there were Mr. and Mrs. Goodale, their son, a team of oxen, several cows, and a woodchuck. And he thinks the woodchuck has since moved away. I suppose they have chickens. I don’t know how old Mr. Goodale’s son is.”
“Sure, I’ll go,” Pee-wee announced conclusively, “because anyway one thing scouts hate and that is civilization. And anyway I bet that woodchuck didn’t move away at all, because woodchucks have back entrances under stone walls and scouts know where to look for them; gee whiz, no woodchuck can fool me. I bet there are skunks up there, too, and lots of other peachy things; I can tell by deduction,”
“Well, he doesn’t give any skunk as a reference,” smiled Mrs. Harris; “I’m afraid you’ll find it very quiet and dull.”
“If you’re a scout you can make your own noise,” Pee-wee said; “you don’t have to depend on noises, just the same as you can always make the forest yield food. You can eat fungus even.”
“Well, I think fresh milk will be better than fungus,” said Mrs. Harris.
“Fungus is all right to eat and so is moss,” Pee-wee said. “That shows how much you know about scouting. You can even eat ground-worms, if you’re a scout.”
“Gracious heavens!” said Pee-wee’s mother.
CHAPTER II
“THEY’RE OFF”
The Snailsdale branch of the Drerie Railroad went through the loneliest country that Pee-wee had ever seen. Leaving the main line at Woodsend Junction, the train of two musty, dilapidated, old cars lurched and rattled along like an old hay wagon.