“The Good Turn is all right only her bow’s too near the stern,” said Roy.
“Gee, everything looks the same, doesn’t it,” said Pee-wee, gazing about him. “This is just where we stood when it began to rain last year. Then we went up that road and that’s where we found the Good Turn.”
“The sun was going down just as it is now,” said Tom, climbing out over the combing. “I remember those hills over there looked just like they do now.”
“Sure, even the water’s wet, just the same as it was then. Don’t you remember how I spoke about the water being so wet?”
“This is just like a book,” said Pee-wee. “Gee, I never thought it would happen this way; I saw a movie play once where a feller—a long lost brother—came home, and oh, cracky, they fell all over him. They thought he was dead and his mother she was looking at his picture and crying—I mean weeping—when all of a sudden——”
“All of a sudden Pee-wee Harris will be left behind if he doesn’t get a hustle,” said Roy. “Come on, wash up and get your hair fixed if you expect to make that speech.”
“Do you know how I’m going to begin?”
“I know how you’re going to end, if you don’t get a hustle.”
The whole Bridgeboro troop with Garry and Raymond and Harry Stanton, had come down from Catskill Landing. Their stay at Temple Camp was ended and they had said good-bye to Harry Arnold and his young friend, whom they hoped to meet again next summer. Little they dreamed of the strange circumstances under which that meeting was to occur. They had left the Good Turn up the river for they hoped to cruise northward again in the larger boat.
In the cool of the evening the three scouts who had trod this same road a year before, accompanied by the boy who had trod it many times himself in days gone by, made their way through the beautiful hilly country for West Nyack. And, indeed, their errand seemed, as Pee-wee had suggested, like a chapter out of a book.