I went out on the platform and looked up the track. I could see way far off till the tracks went to a point. The car was on a siding. Not very far off I could see smoke curling up and I knew there must be a house there somewhere. On the other side from the lake was a store with a platform in front of it. It wasn't open yet.
I went in and washed my hands and face at the water cooler, then went out and looked again. But there wasn't anything to see, only the lake and the woods and the smoke curling up among the trees, and the store right near. I got out and looked at the side of the car. There was the big sign sprawling all over it.
Buffalo 398 Mls.—BREWSTER'S CENTER—N. Y. 30 Mls.
That place wasn't Bridgeboro, that was one sure thing. Because, gee whiz, I know Bridgeboro when I see it. And it wasn't Brewster's Centre, either.
I went in and began shaking Pee-wee, but it wasn't any use. Then I gave Westy a good shove and I shouted at him, "Wake up, the plot grows thicker. We're somewhere, but I don't know where. We're lost, strayed or stolen. Wake up, your country needs you."
He sat up in the seat, rubbing his eyes and yawning. Then he said, kind of half asleep, "I—s—s—s—a—t—day? Wha'—we—doin'—a—a—a—here?"
I said, "It's Saturday, and we're here because we're here. But I don't know where. There's a lake and a lot of woods and some mountains."
"Le's see 'em," he said.
"Look out of the window," I told him.
He just yawned, "Where are they? Outside?"