“Yes and no,” Brent said.
“Do you call that an answer?” the kid shouted.
“It’s two answers,” Brent said. “What more do you want?”
“If you weren’t such crazy, insane lunatics,” Pee-wee shouted, “you’d know that the reason the tracks kind of go together is because on account of perspective.”
I said, “Tell us all about that. Is it the climate?”
“No, it isn’t the climate,” he shouted. “They don’t really do it and that’s the cause of it. The nearer you get to it the further away it is because it isn’t anyway, only it seems so—gee whiz.”
Brent said, “There may be some truth in that. We’ll go and see. I never heard that explanation before. If the thing moves away as we approach, We’ll just have to head it off and catch it. Maybe it would be better if we take a roundabout, circuitous course and approach it from beyond.”
“It wouldn’t even be there then,” Pee-wee said, all excited; “you wouldn’t see it.”
Brent said, “This makes our expedition all the more interesting. Sir Harris has thrown a new light on the subject. If a thing goes away it must go somewhere. It can’t go nowhere—that’s logic. Nowhere is not a place.”
“Why isn’t it?” I said. “It’s got a name, hasn’t it?”