“This is the idea,” I said. “Two or three of us will go and see Mr. Downing, who owns the field and the blamed old garage and everything, and we’ll tell him all about it and maybe he can make Mr. Slausen let us take down a few boards where the track runs through. Mr. Downing’s a mighty nice man, I know that, because he gave a hundred dollars in the scout drive.” “Well, and suppose that fails?” Westy wanted to know. I said, “Well, then, it means a lot of trouble; maybe we’ll have to all get to work and take up the tracks and lay them to the left of the garage where they cross Willow Place.” “That will take us all summer,” Charlie Seabury said. “Well,” I said, “we’ve got this far and will find a way to get the rest of the distance, that’s sure. Where there’s a will there’s a way.” Just then in came Mr. Slausen, all of a sudden, kind of angry like. “All tickets, please,” I said. Because he made me think of a conductor. He said, “Now see here, what are you youngsters doing here in this car?” I said, “Is it a conundrum? How many guesses do we have? We’re sitting in it.” “You’ll have to clear out of here with this thing,” he said. “You’ll be in the way, and this is private property, you know.” “So is this car private property,” I said. “Well, it’s on private land,” he said. “That’s all right,” I told him; “it’s private property just the same. Even if it were on the moon it would be private property. It belongs to us. And the field doesn’t belong to you, either. It belongs to Mr. Downing.” Just then several of the fellows started singing an old tune that we used to fit words to when we were travelling around the country in that car. “We’re on our way to the river, We’re on our way to the river, We’d rather have this than a flivver. We’ll get there never fear, And when we get there, we’ll be there And while we’re here, we’re here.” “Well, you’ll have to clear out of here with this thing,” he said. “I’ll see your parents about it. I’ll notify the police. I use all this land, you can’t stay here.” “We don’t intend to stay here,” I said. “We’re going to move down to the river, into Van Schlessenhoff’s field. We’re just stopping here. You should worry.” “Well, you’ll have to have this thing moved back,” he said, very cross. “Scouts don’t move back,” I said; “they move forward. The only thing that will stop us is the river. Excelsior! That’s our middle name.” “That’s what you pack china in,” Pee-wee shouted. “It means _Forward_,” I said. “It’s what somebody or other had on a banner, in a poem. Scouts don’t have any reverse movement.” “Now you boys know you can’t get past here,” Mr. Slausen said. “What are you up to? How do you expect to get past here?”