“Right in the public library,” I told him, “division B, second shelf from the top. That’s a dangerous place, that is; I’ve known fellows to get killed in there. There used to be a kid that lived on Willow Place and he got drowned in a sea story in there.”
“What are you talking about?” Pee-wee screamed. He always gets excited when we jolly him.
“We’re talking about adventures,” I said; “hair-breadth adventures—not even as wide as that, some of them. I know a fellow that got buried in a book; it was absorbing just like quicksand, and he got absorbed in it. What were you going to do, Kid? Throw the coffee-pot at him if he didn’t join? You didn’t intend to hack him to pieces with your scoutknife, did you? Because a scout is supposed to be kind.”
“You make me tired, all of you!” Pee-wee shouted. “Do you want to hear about it or don’t you?”
“Answered in the affirmative,” I told him. “Begin at the end and go on till you come to the beginning.”
“Then take the second turn to your left,” Westy said.
“That’s what I get for trying to do you a good turn,” the kid shouted. “No wonder Warde Hollister said you were all crazy.”
“Did he say that?” Westy wanted to know.
“Sure, and other people have said so, too,” the kid piped up.