One of the trainmen said he'd leave us a lantern so we could see to talk; then they went back out through the fence and I could see their lanterns making circles in the dark. Pretty soon we could hear the engine puffing and all of a sudden, it gave a loud, shrill whistle. It sounded as if the train was coming very slowly up toward the switch, but in about a couple of minutes we could hear it rattling along, farther and farther away, and going faster and faster.
"So long, old flyer," Westy called.
I said, "Listen! Listen to the sound it makes—tk-ed, tk-ed, tk——It seems as if it's saying, 'twenty-three for yours,' doesn't it?"
"Skiddo, flyer!" Connie shouted; "anyhow, you were foiled by the Boy Scouts."
That word foiled reminded us of Pee-wee, so we went inside and looked at him. I guess the stopping of the car had shaken him up some. His head was way underneath the seat, one of his arms was halfway up on the seat and one of his legs was on the movie outfit in the aisle.
It was a sight for a painter. I mean a sign painter.