“It’ll have to be worse than that before _I’ll_ wire,” said Hervey. “I’ll say so,” I told him. “I’m not worrying, this train knows where it’s going. If we forget to get out at Albany we’ll get out at Buffalo and you can follow your leader across Lake Ontario. That used to be in my geography.” “I guess it’s there yet,” Garry said. “Take a slap on the wrist for that,” I told him. “You all make me tired,” Pee-wee said, very disgruntled. “Well, you’re having a good rest,” I told him. “We’re on our way to Temple Camp, don’t worry. We’re only taking a long cut. Our trail is tied in a knot. We’ll get there when we get there—maybe a little sooner. All you have to do is follow your leader wherever he goes.” “Absolutely, positively,” Warde said; “that’s understood.” “Even if he goes to sleep,” I said; “excuse me while I take a nap. I expect to have a long walk this afternoon.” Just then the train began slowing down and the whistle started blowing very loud and shrill. A brakeman with a red flag came hurrying through the car. “I guess there must be a mosquito on the track,” Garry said. “Maybe the engineer’s going to pick some blackberries,” Warde said. All of a sudden—bang! the cars knocked against each other, the train stopped so suddenly. The whistle blew three or four times very quick and shrill. In about one second I was on my feet. “Follow your leader,” I shouted. And through the aisle I went with the rest of them after me all singing those crazy rhymes that stuck in our minds like glue. Don’t start to go back if it freezes or snows, Don’t weaken or flunk or suggest or oppose; Your job is to follow and not to suppose. And follow your leader wherever he goes. CHAPTER VI WE MOVE HEAVEN AND EARTH You can bet we didn’t lose much time getting off the train. “Follow your leader,” I said. Garry said, “We’re in luck; we’re only about six or seven miles north of Catskill.” “You don’t call that luck, do you?” Hervey said. “Just when I was counting on a nice trip to Albany.” “I suppose you’d like to make a mistake and get on an ocean steamer,” I told him. “Mistakes?” the kid shouted. “You’re the one that made mistakes famous.” “Sure,” I said, “and you’re the one that put the wise crack in animal crackers.” “The last syllable of a doughnut is named after you,” Pee-wee shouted. “Always thinking about doughnuts,” I said. “Look on the track, there’s a friend of yours.” Right plunk across the track, about a couple of hundred feet ahead of the train was a donkey hitched to a funny kind of a wagon that was all machinery inside. “I guess it goes by clockwork,” I said. “It looks as if it doesn’t go at all,” Bert said. “It did us a good turn anyway,” I said; “it made the train stop.”