Harry said, “I guess that’s the best thing to do—for the rest of us to keep to the smooth, short road with the touring cars. When we get to the junction of the two roads we’ll wait for you there as long as we think it’s safe to wait. If you don’t show up by ten o’clock, say, we’ll jog along and meet you at the Veterans’ Reunion at Grumpy’s Cross-roads. We don’t want to run any chance of not getting these people there on time. Uncle Tom has got to be thrashed this afternoon at any cost.” Then he asked Uncle Tom if he wanted a cigarette. That man was awful nice—the man that played Uncle Tom. He said he had been thrashed twice a day for three years, except on Sundays. Harry said it would be a good thing if that happened to a lot of us fellows, especially me. Anyway I’d rather be Eliza and be chased by ferocious bloodhounds. That’s what Mr. Abbington called them—ferocious. Now as soon as it was decided that Brent Gaylong should drive the van along that other road, up jumped our young hero and shouted, “I’ll go with you; maybe they sell ice cream sodas at that place.” As soon as he mentioned ice cream sodas all the other fellows said they’d go—except I didn’t. Because I’m not crazy about an ice cream soda. I like three or four of them though. Harry said, “Well, it looks like a mutiny and I guess we’ll have to lock every one of you in the van.” By that time, Pee-wee was up on the seat of the van and he shouted, “I wouldn’t mute; I’m already here and I’m going to stay here!” Harry said, “Nobody would ever think of the word mute in connection with you; stay where you are and we’ll be glad to get rid of you, and Roy too, if he wants to go.” I said, “The pleasure is mine, I go where duty calls.” “You mean you go where ice cream sodas call,” the kid shouted at me. I said, “Well, for goodness’ sake, chuck that bundle inside the van and give me a chance to sit down, will you?” Because even still he had that convict’s suit close by him on the seat as if he was afraid somebody would get it away from him. “What are you going to do with it?” I said. “Hang it up in the parlor when you get home?” So then I climbed up and chucked the bundle into the van through the little window right behind the seat. Brent sat down between Pee-wee and me, and thus we started off. That’s a peach of a word—_thus_. For a little way we could look across to the other road and see the three touring cars filled with the Uncle Tom’s Cabin people and the other fellows of my patrol. Mr. Abbington was sitting with Harry and he looked awful funny with his high hat on. All of a sudden, _good night_, that bloodhound that had been up on the mountain with us came tearing across from the other road. I guess he wanted to go with us. He clambered almost up to the seat and began sniffing around Brent. I bet he liked him on account of Brent’s being so crazy about adventures, hey? Brent said, “You go back where you belong, old Snoozer. Who do you think I am? Eliza?”