“Suppose we start east again?” I said. “Maybe that’ll take us there because Temple Camp is north. We’ll make a flank move.”
Pee-wee said, very dark and determined like, “I’m going to follow that chimney. The rest of you can go where you want to.”
“First let’s go to the house and get a drink of water,” Warde said.
So then we went on till we came to the road, and g-o-o-d night, there we stood on the edge of the embankment, staring.
“Well—what—do—you—know—about—that?” one of the fellows just blurted out.
“I knew it all the time,” I said; “that house is not to be trusted. I’ll never trust another house as long as I live, I don’t care if it’s a Sunday School even. I wouldn’t trust a public school.”
The rest of them were laughing so hard they just couldn’t speak. There in the road just below us was a great big wagon with a kind of a trestle on it. And on that wagon was a little house. There were four horses hitched to the wagon and a funny looking man was driving them. He wasn’t driving them exactly because they were standing still. One of the wheels of the wagon was ditched alongside the road. That house had been pulled quite a long way south along the road while we were asleep. Take my advice and never use a house for a beacon.
I called, “Hey, mister, where are you going with the house?”
We all sat on the high bank and looked at it. The horses were straining and trying to pull the wagon out. The house was so wide it filled up the whole road.
“It’s a portable garage,” Warde said.