Roy Blakeley's Funny-bone HikeFitzhugh, Percy Keese
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Roy Blakeley's Funny-bone Hike
Fitzhugh, Percy Keese
Boy Scouts of America -- Juvenile fiction; Camping -- Juvenile fiction
Now there’s going to be something doing again because we woke up. While
we were asleep the smoke from the cooking shack died. I guess they were
all through cooking supper at camp. The sun had gone down too. The part
of the sky where it had gone down was all bright—red kind of. So we
knew that was the west.
The roof we had seen wasn’t in line with it, but you can’t exactly say a
thing is in line with a bright part of the sky. The column of smoke had
been right behind that little roof, maybe two miles from it, so we
decided to use that roof for a beacon. That would take us to the road
and from there I knew the trail through the other woods.
I have to admit we were all about ready to go home by then. We were all
pretty tired after that crazy day. If they would have to send a new
troop away on account of there not being accommodations, that would mean
the bus would go down to Catskill again and I wanted to get to camp in
time to send a letter home. I didn’t like to think about a troop being
sent away but it served them right for not writing beforehand. Every
tent and every cabin was crowded that summer.
I said to Hervey, “If you want to be the leader all right, but from now
on we’re going straight for camp. I admit you’re too much for the rest
of us. You ought to live in a volcano or a cyclone or something like
that. I’m good and tired. See if you can make a bee-line to that little
roof and then we’ll know we’re going straight for camp.”
“And when you get to camp stop there,” Warde said.
“I hope he bunks into the pavilion, that’ll be the only thing to stop
him,” Garry said.
“This time, it’s positively guaranteed,” Hervey said; “I’m going
straight west till I bunk right into that house.”
“Keep your eye on the roof,” Bert said, “because that’s the only way we
can be _sure_ we’re going right.”
“Ready, _go”_ Hervey said.
That time we kept going straight ahead without any nonsense—right
straight for that roof.
“I’d like to have a picture of our travels to-day,” Warde said.
“It would look like the trail of a snake with blind staggers,” I told
him. “After to-day I’m going to have some sense.”
“Not if you follow Hervey Willetts,” Warde said.
Hervey said, “I know a better game; it’s called the flip-flop sprint.
Did you ever try the razzle-dazzle roam? You have to keep going east
while you keep your west eye shut. The hole-in-the-ground hop is a good
one too. When shall we try it?”
“We’ll try it day after yesterday,” I said; “think of the west and keep
your eye on that roof.”
“Absolutely, positively,” Hervey said; “we couldn’t go wrong now if we
tried.”
“Don’t try,” Pee-wee shouted.
“Be sure that the right way is always the best,” I said. “I don’t care
what that song of yours says.”
Pretty soon we got to where the woods were not so thick and we could see
the road ahead. We couldn’t exactly see it because it was sort of in a
hollow but we could see the hollow, and by that time we could see the
rest of the house, or most of it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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