So we started a fire and sat around it and jollied each other and especially Pee-wee—you know how we’re always doing. And we roasted the potatoes that we had with us and they tasted good, kind of like smoke.
After a while Westy said, “Well, here’s the end of our bee-line hike and I bet we didn’t go more than about ten or twenty feet out of our path all the way.”
“That’s the only way to get any fun out of a bee-line hike,” I said. “Either do it right or not at all.”
After we were all rested and had eaten all our potatoes we trampled the fire out and went up to the stateroad about a quarter of a mile away to wait for the jitney. I was good and tired, I know that.
Warde said, “I’ve been sitting on the porch all summer reading adventures, but this beats them all. And the best part is it was all real.”
“Believe me,” I told him, “a real agate is an imitation compared to us.”
“I’m glad I’m in the scouts,” he said.
“The worst is yet to come,” I told him.
He said, “I’m game.”
“You bet you are!” all the fellows shouted.