“Sure you can,” I told him. “Didn’t you ever eat an orama? They fry them in pans; that’s why they call them panoramas; they’re fine.”
“Yes, and we’ll be marooned here all night too,” he piped up. “There isn’t anybody for miles around. A lot of good the view is going to do us. This is the loneliest place I ever saw, I bet it’s haunted. I bet that’s why everybody moved away.”
Bert said, “I don’t believe any ghosts would stay here, it’s too lonely. Besides, where would they buy their groceries?”
“Ghosts don’t eat,” the kid said.
“I hope you’ll never be a ghost then,” I told him.
“We’re lucky,” Hervey said. “You ought to thank me for bringing you up here. We can see just where Temple Camp is. We don’t have to depend on sign posts that change their minds and turntables that send us back to where we came from or anything. We can see Temple Camp with our own eyes. Now we know which way to go.”
“Only we can’t go there,” I said.
He said, “That doesn’t make any difference.”
“Sure it doesn’t,” I said. “As long as we know where camp is we’re not lost any more. We know where we’re at. And when we get to a place where we know where we’re at it’s a good place to stay. Deny it if you dare. I’d rather be up here and see the camp and not be able to get there than to be able to get there if we knew where it was but not to know where it was.”
“Do you call that logic?” Pee-wee yelled. “It makes it all the worse to see it.”