“Then we ought to be ashamed to look Mr. Wilde in the face,” said Westy.
“I wish I knew something about herbs and roots,” said Ed. “The only kind of root that I know anything about is cube root and I don’t like that; I’d rather starve. I wonder if they have sassafras roots out this way. I’ve got my return ticket pinned in my pocket with a safety-pin so we ought to be able to catch some fish.”
“How about a line?” Warde asked.
“I can unravel some worsted from my sweater,” said Ed. “Oh, I’m a regular Stove Polish. Maybe we can find some mushrooms; I’m not worrying. I know one thing, I’d like to go up on Penelope’s Peak with Mr. Wilde and those fellows.”
“Pelican Cone,” said Westy.
“My social error—Pelican Cone,” said Ed.
“He’d about as soon think of taking us as he would our grandmothers,” said Westy. “That’s what gets me; they take an Indian boy who maybe can’t even speak English, because he can do the things we’re supposed to be able to do. I don’t mean just you and I. But wouldn’t you think there’d be some fellow in the scout organization—— Gee, I should think out west here there ought to be some who could stalk and things like that. You heard what he said about amateurs and professionals. He’s right, that’s the worst of it.”
“He’s right and we’re wrong as he usually is,” said Ed. “Believe me, I’m not worrying about what he thinks. We have plenty of fun scouting. What’s worrying me is whether we should follow the tracks or the road. I believe in tracking and I’d say follow the tracks only suppose they go over high bridges and places where we couldn’t walk. It’s not so easy to track railroad tracks. But the trouble with the road is we don’t know where it goes.”
“I don’t believe it knows itself,” said Warde, “by the looks of it.”
“We want to go south; we know that,” said Westy. “Gardiner is south from here.”