“We follow the tracks straight along,” the kid said. “That will bring us to the turnpike and all we have to do is to go through Leeds. There, you think you’re so smart.”
“Righto,” Hervey said; “just climb out of the other end of the car and keep going, right along the track.”
“Smart kid,” I said.
“Do you think I’m going to be turning somersaults all the way home?” he wanted to know. “The next time I join a parade it won’t be with a lot of monkeys.”
“Those somersaults were all good turns,” Bert said.
“This place is good enough for me,” Pee-wee shot back at him.
So we left him there sprawled out on the straw and followed Hervey in and out of old holes, kind of like caves, and all around and over piles of earth and everything till pretty soon he stopped and said, panting good and hard, “What do you say to a plot?”
“I take them three times a day and before retiring,” I said. “What kind of a plot? A grass-plot?”
“Let’s have some fun with Pee-wee,” he said. “Did you hear him say he knows the way home from here? He thinks all he has to do is to climb out the other end of the car and keep going along the track to the turnpike.”
“Well, isn’t that right?” Warde asked.