Roy Blakeley's Funny-bone HikeFitzhugh, Percy Keese
General
Roy Blakeley's Funny-bone Hike
Fitzhugh, Percy Keese
Boy Scouts of America -- Juvenile fiction; Camping -- Juvenile fiction
The boat went chugging up the creek, the men laughing and waving their
hands at us. Pee-wee sat down on the floor of the bridge hugging the
fish as if it were his long lost brother. The rest of us started pushing
the lever.
_But, oh boy, it didn’t push._
CHAPTER XIII
WE ARE MAROONED ON A DESERT ISLAND
“Come on and help,” I said to Pee-wee.
“Suppose the fish jumps off the bridge,” he said. “Do you think I’m
going to take any chances?”
“The strength of an Animal Cracker doesn’t count for much,” Garry said.
“Look out the fish doesn’t jump in the creek with you,” I told Pee-wee.
Well, we pushed and pushed and pushed and braced our feet and kept
pushing for dear life, but we couldn’t budge that lever. Pee-wee held
the fish tight under one arm and helped us but it wasn’t any use. We
just couldn’t budge the lever.
“We’re marooned for fair,” Bert said.
“Boy Scouts Starve on Merry-go-round Island,” I said. “That would be a
good heading for a newspaper article.”
“Merry-go-standstill you mean,” Hervey began laughing. “What do we care?
It’s all in the game. Come ahead, give her one more push; follow your
leader.”
“Do you call starving a game?” the kid fairly yelled at him. I had to
laugh, he looked so funny standing there with the fish under his arm.
We tried some more but—no use. “The merry-go-round has stalled,” I
said. “We’ve got Robinson Crusoe tearing his hair with jealousy.”
“We’re on a desert island in earnest,” Bert said. He was the last to
give up.
“Don’t talk about desert, it reminds me of dessert,” I said.
“I’m not so much in earnest either,” Hervey began laughing. “Come on,
follow your leader.” Then he started to jump up on the railing.
I said, “It’s a very good joke; he, he, ho, ho, and a couple of ha ha’s!
But how about lunch? We can’t start a fire on this bridge without
burning it up and besides we haven’t got any kindling.”
“The only way we can get off the bridge is to burn it up,” Hervey said.
“The boy scout stood on the burning bridge——”
“Eating fish by the peck,” I said. “This is a new kind of a desert
island—1921 model. We made it ourselves. But what care we? We have
food. We care naught, quoth I.”
“What good is the food?” Pee-wee screamed. “You broke the bridge, that’s
what you did! And now we’ve got to go hungry.”
“Go?” I said. “What do you mean by ‘go’? You mean we’ve got to stay here
hungry. Our skeletons will be found on Merry-go-round Island——”
“Following their leader,” Hervey said.
“Along with the skeleton of a faithful fish,” Bert said. “That’s what
happens to young boys when they go around too much.”
“That’s what happens when any one goes around with this bunch,” the kid
shouted. “You’re so crazy that it’s catching; even the sign posts and
bridges go crazy. The next time I go on a funny-bone hike I won’t go at
all, but if I do I’ll bring my lunch you can bet.”
“What’ll we do next?” Hervey wanted to know.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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