Mr. MacKeller said he didn’t know how we’d get the car over there, but he guessed the trestle across the marsh would hold it all right. He said even if it collapsed there probably wouldn’t be much damage, only the car would be broken and we’d never get it away from there, and if we camped in it we’d be eaten up by mosquitoes.
“Good night,” I told him; “if there’s any eating to be done we want to be the ones to do it.”
He said that getting Tony’s lunch wagon and Slausen’s Auto Repair Shop out of the way wasn’t the kind of work for an engineer. “That’s a job for a strategist,” he said.
Oh, boy, you should have heard Pee-wee shout. “What did I tell you? What did I tell you?” he began hollering.
Honest, I was afraid he’d tumble off the trestle into the marsh.
CHAPTER VI—SCOUT STRATEGY
Westy Martin (he’s in my patrol; he’s my special chum), he said, “The only way to do is to go to work systematically.”
“Sister what?” Pee-wee shouted.
“Systematically,” I told him; “that means without any help from our sisters. Now shut up.”
“How long is it going to take to move that car all the way from the station over to the river? That’s what I’d like to know,” he shouted.