“Will you let me speak?” he screamed.
“No, what is it?” I said.
“My shirt fell in the water and we haven’t got any matches,” he said. “So what good is the fish? I’ve been trying to tell you that for five minutes.”
I didn’t say anything, I just lay down on the ground. The rest of them did the same. “Follow your leader,” Garry groaned.
“This is too much,” I said; “let me die in peace.”
“What’s the matter?” Hervey asked, climbing out of the water with the precious fish.
“Oh nothing,” I said, “except Pee-wee’s shirt fell in the water over at the other end of the bridge and we haven’t got any matches. Don’t worry, they’ll find our bodies here; lie down, it’s all over. Pee-wee wins.”
So there we all lay sprawled on the ground, the kid sitting up watching us.
“We did our best to eat and live,” I said, “but the West Shore Railroad and turntables and sign posts and drawbridges and wooden ducks were too much for us. Come on, I’m going to die, follow your leader.”
“There’s a way to kindle a fire without a match,” the kid said.