“I changed the whole map of the Catskills,” I said. “That’s nothing; see how the map of Europe is changed. I don’t think much of a signboard that changes its mind.”
“I don’t think much of a scout that changes a signboard,” Pee-wee shouted.
We all stood there staring at the sign. On the top of that post were two boards crossways to each other and on each board two directions were printed with arrows pointing. On one board was printed COXSACKIE 8 M., with an arrow pointing one way, and ATHENS 5 M., with an arrow pointing the opposite way. On the other board was printed CAIRO 9 M., with an arrow pointing one way, and CLAYVILLE 7 M., with an arrow pointing the other way, and underneath that board was a little board with TEMPLE CAMP printed on it. I guess scouts put that there.
But a lot of good that sign did us because all we knew was that Temple Camp was in the same direction as Clayville and we didn’t know which direction Clayville was in.
“Follow your leader and you don’t know where you’re at,” Pee-wee said, very disgusted like.
“Wrong the first time,” I said. “The poem says follow your nose. Would you rather believe the guide post than that beautiful poem? The poem never changes but the guide post moves around. We know where we’re at, we’re right here; deny it if you dare. We’re smarter than the guide post.”
“You’re about as smart as a lunatic,” the kid shouted. “If you hadn’t touched that we’d know which way to go. Now where is Temple Camp?”
“That’s easy,” I told him; “it’s where it always was.”
“You mean you’re like you always were,” he said; “you’re crazy.”
“Let’s move it around again,” Hervey said, “and we’ll say the first verse and let go the post just as we finish. Then let’s go the way it says.”