“There’s a little girl right behind her,” Bert said. “She’s carrying a big whip; she’s driving the cow.”
That little girl was about half as big as Pee-wee. She had on a big sunbonnet and a kind of a gingham apron and she came hiking along behind the cow with that great big whip over her shoulder. She looked awful little.
“Do you think I want to be rescued by her?” the kid shouted.
“I’d let a mosquito rescue me, I’m so hungry,” I said.
Pretty soon the little girl and the cow were right at the end of the road where the end of the bridge belonged. The cow didn’t seem surprised but the little girl did. The cow just started to eat grass as if she didn’t care whether she got across or not.
“Road closed on account of a desert island,” Bert called.
“You have to take a detour around through the Panama Canal,” Garry shouted. “Don’t be frightened, we won’t hurt you.”
I said, “Hey, little girl, would you be kind enough to go to the nearest house and tell the people that some boy scouts are starving on this bridge on account of it being open?”
“Why don’t you close it,” she asked us kind of just a little bit scared and surprised.
“Because it doesn’t work,” I said. “See, we’ll show you. It’s on a strike.”