About five o’clock we came to a village and we asked a man how far it was to Grumpy’s Crossroads. He must have got up before breakfast, that man. He said it was about thirty-five miles, but that we’d have to go very slow on account of the road being all stones. We had to drive those cars easy, because they were supposed to be delivered new.
The man said, “If you’re bound east why didn’t you hit the south road and cut out Grumpy’s Crossroads altogether?”
Harry said, “Because these people have to appear at the Grand Army reunion at Grumpy’s Cross-roads this afternoon and we’ve got to get them there.”
The man said, “If that’s all you’re going to the Cross-roads for, you might as well take the south road. Bill Thorpe, he was t’the Cross-roads yesterday en’ he said th’ Uncle Tom’s Cabin show was called off on ’count of thar bein’ no trains runnin’. He said ole Major Grumpy was tearin’ ’is hair like a wild Injun at th’ railroad unions.”
Harry said, “Is that so? Well, I hope he won’t have his hair all pulled out by 2 P. M. Do you suppose old Grump ever heard of the Boy Scouts of America?”
“I’ll tell him all about them!” Pee-wee shouted. “You just leave it to me.”
The man was smoking a pipe and it kind of smelled like a forest fire. It smelled like a forest fire and a gas engine put together, kind of. He laid his pipe down on the step of the van so we’d know that what he was going to say was very serious.
He said, “You take my advice en’ daon’t mention no scaout boys t’the major; it’s like wavin’ a red flag before a bull as yer might say.”
“Doesn’t like ’em, hey?” Harry said.
“Hates ’em,” the man said.