“Well, you’ll have to clear out of here with this thing,” he said. “I’ll see your parents about it. I’ll notify the police. I use all this land, you can’t stay here.”
“We don’t intend to stay here,” I said. “We’re going to move down to the river, into Van Schlessenhoff’s field. We’re just stopping here. You should worry.”
“Well, you’ll have to have this thing moved back,” he said, very cross.
“Scouts don’t move back,” I said; “they move forward. The only thing that will stop us is the river. Excelsior! That’s our middle name.”
“That’s what you pack china in,” Pee-wee shouted.
“It means Forward,” I said. “It’s what somebody or other had on a banner, in a poem. Scouts don’t have any reverse movement.”
“Now you boys know you can’t get past here,” Mr. Slausen said. “What are you up to? How do you expect to get past here?”
“We should worry our young lives about how we’re going to get past,” I said. “Italy stood in our way—you saw what happened. This is the Berlin to Bagdad Railroad—branch of the Erie. We’re going to subdue all the land between here and the river. We should sneeze at the Sneezenbunker land. We’re going to make all the cats in Cat-tail Marsh pay an indemnity. Maybe you think you’re more important than Belgium, but we’ll go through you all right. You leave it to us. Food won the war so far, didn’t it? Posolutely, quoth he.
“We haven’t opened our next campaign yet, but, anyway, we’re not too proud to fight. Please don’t bother us now; we’re planning our next big drive. We’re going to make the world safe for the boy scouts. If the police and our parents know what’s best for them they’ll stay neutral.”
“Do you want to make a treaty with us?” Connie piped up. “Come on over to Bennett’s and we’ll treat you to a treaty.”