He said, “I haven’t got much faith in that old trestle. It’s all up and down like a scenic railroad in an amusement park. It’s all spongy underneath it.”
I said, “But we’ll promise to stay off the car till it stops.”
He said, “Well, and suppose the marsh should flood like it always does in the summer. What then? You’ll be under water.”
“We’ll shut the windows and the doors,” Alexis piped up; “and we’ll have a tube going up to the top.”
“Sure,” I said, “we’ll take a couple of tubes of tooth paste with us.”
“Twenty thousand leagues under the marsh,” Charlie Seabury shouted.
I said, “When we once get past the marsh everything will be all right. The tracks go a little up hill through the field, and that field is never flooded. We’ll be high and dry there.”
“It was under water three years ago in the spring freshets,” Mr. Jenson said.
“It wasn’t up to our knees,” Westy told him. “And it went down in a couple of days.”
I said, “We should worry about Van Schlessenhoff’s field being flooded. The water would never come up to the floor of the car anyway. Besides, the freshets aren’t as fresh as they used to be. They wouldn’t put anything like that over on us.”