CHAPTER IV—PEE-WEE’S WATCH

I guess Pee-wee dreamed of pie that night. Anyway he didn’t wake up very early in the morning. When the train stopped at Cleveland for eats, he was dead to the world. The rest of us all went into the railroad station for breakfast and Harry took a couple of sandwiches and a hard boiled egg and a bottle of milk back to the train for our young hero when he should wake up.

When we were eating breakfast in the station, Harry said, “Well, I see that none of you kids has ever been out west before. Hadn’t we better set our watches?”

I looked up at the clock in the station and, _good night_, then I knew why he and Brent had been jollying Pee-wee the night before. The dock in the station was an hour behind my watch.

“Western time, boys,” Harry said; “set _your_ watches back.”

“And keep still about it when you go back on the train,” Rossie said, “if you want to see some fun.”

“We’ve lost an hour,” Westy said.

“Don’t you care,” Brent said; “don’t bother looking for it; we’ll find it coming back.”

Gee whiz, I had to laugh when I thought of Pee-wee lying sound asleep in his upper berth with his trusty boy scout watch under his pillow. When we went back on the train all the berths except Pee-wee’s were made into seats. There were only about a half a dozen passengers besides ourselves in that car, and Harry went around asking them all not to mention to Pee-wee about western time.

I guess it was about a half an hour later the kid woke up. He was so sleepy that he never thought about the time till after he had got washed and dressed, then he came staggering through the car wanting to know where we were. The rest of us were all sprawling in the seats and the passengers were smiling, because I guess they knew what was coming.

Harry said, “Sit down here and have some breakfast, Kid. We thought we wouldn’t bother you to get up when we stopped in Cleveland. What time have you got?”

Pee-wee hauled out his old boy scout turnip and said, “It’s half past nine.”

Harry said, “Oh, not quite as bad as that; boy scouts don’t sleep till half past nine. It’s just—let’s see—it’s just about half past eight.” Then he showed his watch to Pee-wee, kind of careless like.

By that time we were all crowding around waiting to see the fun and the passengers were all looking around and kind of smiling.

Harry said, “Sit down and eat your breakfast, Kid, and don’t let that old piece of junk fool you. What time have you got, Roy?”

I could hardly keep a straight face, but I said, “About half past eight.”

“You see, it’s just as I told you, Kid,” Harry said. “As soon as you go to sleep those boy scout watches take advantage of you. I wouldn’t trust one of them any more than I’d trust a pickpocket. How about that, Brent?”

“Oh, I’ve met some pretty honest pickpockets,” Brent said. “Of course, some of them are dishonest. But it’s the same as it is in every other business; some are honest and some are not. I’ve seen some good, honest, hard working pickpockets. What time is it, Tom Slade?”

Gee whiz, I was afraid when Tom took out his watch, because he usually stands up for Pee-wee, and I was afraid he’d let him know. But he just looked at his watch, very sober, and said, “Pretty nearly twenty minutes of nine.”

“You all make me sick!” Pee-wee yelled. “You think you’re smart, don’t you? You all got together and changed your watches.”

“This is the same watch I always carried,” Brent said.

“I mean you all changed the time,” Pee-wee shouted; “you think you can put one over on me, don’t you?”

“That watch would be all right for a paperweight, Kid,” Rossie said, “or for an anchor when you go fishing.”

“It’s all right to keep time, too,” the kid shouted.

“It doesn’t _keep_ it, it lets it out,” Harry said; “did you have the cover closed? A whole hour has sneaked away on you.”

“Maybe it leaks a little,” Brent said.

“There may be a short circuit in the minute hand,” Harry said.

“That watch is right!” the kid shouted. “That’s a boy scout watch and it’s guaranteed for a year.”

“Well, it’s an hour ahead of the game,” Harry said. “You ask any one of these gentlemen the correct time.”

Oh, boy, I had to laugh. Pee-wee went through the aisle holding his precious old boy scout watch in his hand, asking the different passengers what time it was. Every single one of them took out his watch and showed the kid how he was an hour wrong. All of a sudden, in came the conductor and Harry winked at him and said, “What’s the correct time, Cap?”

“Eight thirty-eight,” the conductor said.

Harry said, “There you are, Kiddo; what have you got to say now?”

Gee whiz, the kid didn’t have _anything_ to say. He just stood there gaping at his watch and then staring around and the passengers could hardly keep straight faces.

The conductor caught on to the joke and he winked at Harry and said, “Those toy watches aren’t expected to keep time.”

Harry said, “Oh, no, but he’ll have a real watch when he grows up. He’s young yet. He can take this one apart and have a lot of fun with the works.”

“Somebody set this watch ahead—some of you fellows did!” Pee-wee shouted. “It was right last night. It keeps good time. Somebody played a trick on me! This is a what-do-you-call-it—a conspiracy. You’re all in it.”

Just then we passed a station and there was a clock in a steeple. Harry said, “You don’t claim that clock in the church steeple is in the conspiracy, do you? Look at it. _Now_ what have you got to say?”

Then the conductor put his arm over Pee-wee’s shoulder and he said, “Didn’t you ever hear of western time, son? The next time you’re traveling west you just drop an hour at Cleveland station and you’ll find it waiting there for you when you come back.”

“Sure,” I told him; “did you notice that big box on the platform? That’s where they keep them. It’s all full of hours.”

The kid just stood there, staring. I guess he didn’t know _what_ to believe.

“Set your watch back an hour and don’t let them fool you,” the conductor said, and then he began laughing.

“And remember that western time is different from eastern time,” Rossie said.

“Oh, sure, everything is different out west,” Harry put in. “I like the western time better.”

“Eastern time is good enough for me,” Brent said; “I always preferred it.”

“And if you should ever happen to be crossing the Pacific Ocean on any of your wild adventures, Kid,” Harry said, “don’t forget to set your watch back one day when you cross the equator.”

“If it’s one day I wouldn’t have to set it back at all,” Pee-wee said. “Three o’clock to-day is the same as three o’clock yesterday.”

“It would be better to set it back and be sure,” Harry said.

“Oh, yes, safety first,” Brent said; “there might be a slight difference. One three o’clock might look like another, but there’s a difference.”

“How do you know when you cross the equator?” I asked Harry.

He said, “You can tell by the bump. Sometimes the ship just glides over it easily and you can’t tell at all unless you look.”

“It’s best to shift gears going over the equator,” Brent said; “go into second and stay in second till you get up the hill.”

“What hill?” Pee-wee wanted to know. “You make me sick; there aren’t any hills on the ocean.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Rossie Brent said. “If you go to Coney Island and watch a ship coming toward you from way out on the ocean, you see the top of the masts first, don’t you? Then after a while you see the whole ship. That’s because it’s coming up hill. See?”

“You should worry about hills, Kid,” I said; “go ahead and eat your breakfast.”

V—THE CARAVAN

I guess by now you must think we’re all crazy; I should worry. I just thought I’d tell you that about Pee-wee’s watch because, gee, it had us all laughing. So already you’ve lost an hour reading this story; don’t you care.

Now we didn’t have any more adventures on that trip. We didn’t do much except eat and, gee whiz, you wouldn’t call that having adventures. Late that night we got to Klucksville and we stayed at the hotel till morning. They have dandy wheat cakes at that hotel. And syrup, _mm_, _mm_! Then we went to the auto works and the four cars were all ready for us, because Mr. Junkum had sent a telegram to say we were coming.

Oh, boy, you should have seen that big van, a regular gypsy wagon. On the outside was painted,

JOLLY & KIDDER THE MAMMOTH STORE EVERYTHING FOR THE HOME

It was all enclosed and there was an electric light inside and steps to go up to it and everything. There were kind of lockers inside too; I guess they were for small bundles, hey? The kind that mothers buy and then send back again, because they don’t fit.

Gee whiz, there wasn’t much to see in Klucksville. We could have brought the whole town home with us in the van if we had wanted to,—all except the auto works. We didn’t waste much time there because Harry wanted to get an early start and go as far as we could the first day. But anyway, we stopped long enough in the village to have a man print a big sign on canvas that we tacked on the van. It said,

MISSOURI TO NEW YORK SHOULD WORRY ABOUT RAILROADS BOY SCOUTS ON THE JOB! WE WORK WHILE OTHERS LOAF BE PREPARED

Besides that we bought three straw mattresses and an oil stove and some canned stuff. We didn’t need to buy much except food, because we had a lot of camping stuff along. We got cans of beans and soup and tuna fish and some egg powder and Indian meal, because I can make lots of things with that. Gee whiz, I can’t tell you all the stuff we bought, but if you watch us you’ll see us eating it. Believe me, we ate everything except the straw mattresses. Harry said the Kluck was a pretty good car for eating up the miles, but believe me, it hasn’t got anything on us when it comes to eating.

Now this is the way we started. First was a touring car with Tom Slade driving it. He’s awful sober, kind of. But you can have a lot of fun with him. He has no use for candy, but he’s got a lot of sense about other things. I can always make him laugh—leave it to me. Next came another touring car with Rossie Bent driving it. He had a pasteboard sign on his and it said,

WE’RE FROM MISSOURI, WE’LL SHOW YOU

Next came Brent Gaylong in the other touring car and he had a pasteboard sign that said,

YOU’RE IN LUCK IF YOU GET A KLUCK ----- FROM THE WOOLLY WEST ----- BOUND FOR LITTLE OLD NEW YORK;

After that came the big van with Harry driving it.

Now we fellows were supposed to live in the van, but we didn’t do much except sleep in it. Most of the time we were riding in the different cars. A lot of the time I sat with Tom Slade. Mostly the Warner twins rode in the car with Rossie Bent. Charlie Seabury and Westy were in Brent Gaylong’s car a lot of the time. Will Dawson got sleepy a lot so he was in the van mostly. Pee-wee rode in all the different cars at once, but most of the time in the van, on account of that being the commissary department. Wherever you see a commissary department, look for Pee-wee. Commissary is his middle name. Sometimes he was up on top of the van dancing around. He’s awful light on his feet. He came near lighting on his head a couple of times.

So now I’m going to tell you about that trip.

VI—STRANDED

I guess you’ll say this story is a lot of nonsense, but anyway, those big fellows were worse than the rest of us. Harry said it didn’t make any difference if we were foolish, because even a dollar hasn’t as much cents as it used to have—that’s a joke. Anyway Harry had plenty of dollars that Mr. Junkum gave him for expenses. He told us the people who were buying the cars paid part of the money. And anyway, my patrol saved them some money on account of knowing all about camping and cooking and all that. Harry said it was more fun than if we stayed at hotels all the time. Gee whiz, I hate hotels—hotels and spinach. But once I went to a peach of a fire when a hotel burned down. That’s one good thing about hotels, anyway.

Now about noontime that day the road crossed the railroad station at a place called Squash Centre. It crosses it there every day, I guess, Sundays and holidays and all. Anyway, it crossed it there that day. Pee-wee was sitting on the seat beside Harry and he shouted, “Squash Centre; I like pumpkin better.” As soon as he saw the word squash right away he thought about pie.

There were only about six houses there and the railroad station. On the platform were a lot of funny looking people and they had a couple of big dogs tied by ropes. They had a lot of boxes and bags and things standing around them on the platform. Most of the squashes of Squash Centre were standing around a little way off laughing at them. The man that was holding the dogs had on a long black coat and a high hat and he needed to be shaved. His coat didn’t have any cloth on the buttons. He had long hair sticking out from under his hat.

Harry said, “Well, well, we sure are out west. Here’s poor old Uncle Tom’s Cabin, bag and baggage.” Then he called down to the man with the black coat and said, “How about you, old top? Stranded?”

Then all the squashes of Squash Centre set up a howl.

The man said, very dignified like, “Thank you, for your inquiry, young sir, and might I ask if you came through Jones’ Junction? Are there any trains running?”

By that time our whole caravan had stopped and all the squashes got around and began staring at us.

Harry said, “I don’t believe there are any trains except eastern trains. I don’t believe there’s anything that stops this side of Indianapolis. How far are you going? What’s the matter, didn’t you hit it right among the squashes?”

The man said, “The squashes are without art or patriotism. I thank you for your information, sir. We are both stalled and stranded. We have neither a train to travel on nor money to travel on it if we had. Our friends have not welcomed us as we hoped they would. We have a promising engagement at Grumpy’s Cross-roads some hundred miles distant, where we are under contract with Major Hezekiah Grumpy to give six performances at the Grand Army reunion there. Major Grumpy, sir, fought bravely to stamp out the evil which our play depicts with such pathos.” That was just the way he talked.

Harry said, “So they are having a reunion at Grumpy’s Cross-roads, are they?”

“A very magnificent affair, sir,” that’s just what the man said, “and the major has contracted with us for the presentation of our heart stirring drama with the view of having the dramatic part of the celebration appropriate.”

Geewhiz, it was awful funny to hear him talk.

VII—A GOOD TURN

That man’s name was Archibald Abbington, and he talked dandy, just as if he had learned it out of a book. One of those other people told us that his right name was Henry Flynn. I felt sorry for them, that’s one sure thing. And, oh, boy, but those were two peachy dogs they had. The thing those dogs did mostly was to chase Eliza. Miss Le Farge, she was the one that played Eliza. They never let anybody feed the dogs except her, so they’d be sure to chase her.

Harry said, “Why don’t you let them chase some of these squashes away? They stand around gaping just as if they never saw a human being before. How far is Grumpy’s Cross-roads anyway?”

Mr. Abbington said, “It’s a matter of a hundred miles or thereabout.” Gee, he was crazy about that word _thereabout_. Then he said that they had a contract with Major Grumpy to give their first performance the next afternoon at the Grand Army reunion, but he didn’t know what they would do because they were stranded.

Harry was awful nice to him. He said, “Well, it looks as if you were in a kind of a tight place, Archy, and I wish we could help you out. We’re reproducing the good old times, too, as you might say, with our overland caravan. These are boy scouts who are taking care of our commissary department and this is their gallant leader, Roy Blakeley. How about it, Roy? Do you think we could squeeze in a good turn, just to vary the monotony? You’re the boss of that end of the outfit. It would mean driving all night instead of stopping to camp as we meant to do. Let’s look on the map and see where Grumpy’s Cross-roads is, anyway.”

I said, “The more the merrier; I don’t care where it is or how long it takes us to get there. We’ll take you. That’s our middle name, doing good turns.”

“We give shows ourselves sometimes,” Pee-wee said. “We have a movie apparatus and we give movie shows. But one thing, we’ve never been stranded.”

Brent said in that funny way of his, “But we hope to be, sometime; we can’t expect to have everything at once.”

Mr. Abbington said, awful dignified like, “We have been stranded many times, sir. I can assure you it is not pleasant, especially when one of our company is ill.”

Gee whiz, I could see plain enough that one of them wasn’t feeling good; that was the one they called Miss De Voil—she played Topsy. Maybe the squashes disagreed with her, hey?

Harry said, “Well, it’s up to you kids, Roy. Grumpy’s Cross-roads is east, so it isn’t exactly out of our way, only we’ll have to hit into a pretty punk road and there’ll be no sleeping around the camp-fire to-night. What do you say?”

Mr. Abbington and all the rest of those people looked at us kids awful anxious, sort of. Gee, it made me feel sorry for them. All of a sudden Pee-wee piped up. He said, “Camp-fires aren’t the principal things in scouting; good turns come first. Anyway, once I heard that actors always help each other and maybe, kind of, you might say we’re actors, because sometimes we give shows.”

Mr. Abbington said, “I am delighted to hear that, my young friend. Let me ask you what you have played.”

“He plays the harmonica when nobody stops him,” Westy said.

I said, “Oh, sure, he’s a peachy actor; he plays dominoes and tennis and tiddle-de-winks. The most stirring part he ever plays is when he stirs his coffee.”

Miss Le Farge said to another one of those ladies, “Oh, isn’t he just too cute?”

So then we helped them get all their stuff into the van. They had a tent and a lot of other things. Harry whispered to me that he guessed they hadn’t had any supper and he said he was afraid if we didn’t give them something to eat the man that played the slave driver wouldn’t have strength enough to whip Uncle Tom the next afternoon. Brent said maybe even Uncle Tom wouldn’t have strength enough to stand up and be whipped. He said, “We’d better feed them up.”

So we made a fire in the grove right alongside the road so as not to interfere with Miss De Voil, who was lying on one of the mattresses in the van. We told the ladies that they could have the van all to themselves that night so they could get good and rested. I fried some bacon for them and heated some beans and we got water out of the railroad station.

Gee whiz, the water was the only thing about that railroad that was running.

VIII—GRUMPY

We ran the cars all that night so as to get those people to Grumpy’s Cross-roads in the morning. The ladies slept in the van, all except one; she was the one that played Aunt Ophelia. In the play she had to be strict, like a school teacher kind of, with Topsy. But when she wasn’t in the play she was awful nice. She sat up all night in Rossie Bent’s car, because she said she liked the fresh air. Mr. Abbington and Harry sat together outside the van. I didn’t get sleepy much. The rest of the fellows sprawled in Tom Slade’s car and Brent Gaylong’s car, and were dead to the world. It was nice traveling in the night only we had to go slow. We went across a kind of a prairie and every once in a while we came to farms. It was dandy to see the sun come up in the morning.

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.

“Eats ’em alive, I suppose,” Brent said.

“He’d eat ’em raw, only he ain’t got teeth enough,” the man said.

Brent said in that funny way he has, “Well, I guess that settles it, we’ll hit the trail for the Cross-roads; I kind of like old Grump already. I have a kind of a hunch he’ll put some pep into this Lewis & Clarke expedition. All we needed to make our joy complete was somebody to try to foil us.”

“Cracky, I hope he tries to foil us,” Pee-wee piped up.

“Is he a villain?” Brent wanted to know.

“Wall, he ain’t just exactly what you might call a villain,” the man said, very serious.

Brent said, “Oh, that’s too bad. We haven’t got a villain for our story yet. I suppose we’ll have to advertise when we hit into Indianapolis. ‘Wanted, willing and industrious villain; one with some experience preferred; good chance for advancement; duties, being foiled by the Boy Scouts of America.’”

The man said, “Guess you’re a kind of a comic, hey?”

“What’s the trouble between old Grump and the kids, anyway?” Harry asked him.

The man said, “Wall, naow, I’ll tell you. Th’ major’s an old Civil War man en’ he’s a great stickler on military training for boys; ain’t got no use for studyin’ natur’ en’ all that kind o’ thing. He’s daft abaout the Civil War, en’ he’s jest abaout th’ biggest old grouch this side o’ th’ Missippi River. This here reunion o’ his, every three years, is the pet uv his heart, as th’ feller says. He has th’ poor ole veterans limpin’ in from miles araound fillin’ ’em up with rations en’ givin’ ’em shows. He’s got money enough so’s ter make the United States Treasury look like a poor relation; and _stingy_!”

“That sounds fine,” Brent said; “we’ll have him eating out of our hands; we’ll have him so he comes when we call him. First I was in hopes we might fall in with some train robbers——”

“Gee, it isn’t too late yet!” Pee-wee shouted.

“But a ferocious old major is good enough,” Brent said; “we can’t expect to have everything. You’re positive about his hating the Boy Scouts, are you?” he asked the man. “Because we shouldn’t want to count on that and then be disappointed. It’s pretty hard when you think you’ve found a regular scoundrel and then find that you’re deceived. Are you willing to guarantee him?”

“Wall, I wouldn’ say exactly as he’s a _villain_,” the man said; “but he’s a ole wild beast, so everybuddy says, en’ I’m tellin’ yer not to wave no red flag in front uv him with a lot uv this scaout boy nonsense. ’Cause he ain’t in the humor, see?”

Harry said, “Do you know, Brent, I think the old codger will do first rate.”

“Oh, he’ll do,” Brent said; “of course, it isn’t like finding a pirate, or a counterfeiter, or an outlaw——”

“You make me tired!” Pee-wee yelled. “If Roy’s going to write all this stuff up, we have to have an old grouch, so as we can convert him sort of, don’t we, and then he’ll—then he’ll—what-d’ye-call-it—he’ll donate a lot of money and say the boy scouts are all right. I’ll manage him, you leave him to me.”

Brent said, “You don’t happen to know if he has a gold-haired daughter, do you?”

Gee whiz, I guess that man thought we were crazy—I should worry. Even the Uncle Tom’s Cabin people were laughing.

Brent said, “Because if our young hero could only rescue old Grump’s gold-haired daughter from kidnappers, perhaps old Grump would come across with a real watch that keeps time as a reward for our young hero’s bravery. I think we’ll have to try our hand with old Grump.”

“Are you—are you _sure_ he’s mad at the scouts?” Pee-wee wanted to know.

“Tell us the worst,” Harry said.