CHAPTER IV
WE START
Now I’ll have to tell you about where I live and about Bridgeboro and all that, so you’ll know the country we invaded. But you needn’t think I’m going to bother you with geography because, gee whiz, I have no use for that. Believe me, when you see my picture on the cover of a book you’ll know there is no history or geography or anything like that in it. And the only figures you’ll see are the numbers of the pages, because I should worry about figures in vacation.
But anyway it’s dandy up where I live. My father owns a lot of property up there and so everybody calls it Blakeley’s hill. It’s in Bridgeboro but kind of just outside of Bridgeboro—you know what I mean.
Maybe you know how it is with towns that have rivers running through them. Rivers run through valleys—that shows how smart I am. There is always high land on both sides of a river. I don’t mean it has to be right close to the river.
Now this is the way it is where I live. Blakeley’s hill isn’t a hill exactly, it’s a ridge. It runs along the same way the river runs. The state road runs along that ridge and our house is on the state road only it’s way back from the road. We’ve got a dandy grapevine. We’ve got a sun parlor, too. That’s where Mr. Blakeley’s son sits and reads on rainy days. That’s why we call it a sun parlor.
Now if you sit on our porch you can look down over Bridgeboro; you get a peach of a view. Beyond Bridgeboro you can see the river. That’s where the town ends—at the river. There are a lot of turtles in that river. Across the river the land is low until you come to the other ridge. Now the space between the two ridges is the valley of the river. Correct, be seated.
In that low land between the river and the other ridge is Little Valley; that’s a village. It’s where Harry Donnelle lives. He’s got a Cadillac, that fellow has. Lots of times he treats us to soda, but he won’t be a scoutmaster. Oh, boy, but he’d make a dandy one. Little Valley isn’t very big; it hasn’t got its eyes open yet.