Then Mr. Abbington began calling him and the dog didn’t seem to be able to decide what to do. “I hear you calling me,” Brent said; “go on back, Snoozer; we’ll see you later.” So then the dog went back but I guess he didn’t want to. Gee whiz, you couldn’t blame him. Because one thing sure, if you stick to Brent Gaylong you’re pretty sure to see some fun. Believe _me_, that fellow’s middle name is adventure. Just you wait and see. CHAPTER XVIII—A SHOWER BATH Brent said, “I bet Brother Abbington will be pretty hot to-day with that frock coat of his and that high hat.” I said, “It’s going to be a scorcher, all right.” “Lucky for me,” he said, “as long as my mackinaw and my khaki shirt have gone in the good cause.” “You should worry,” I told him. “Only I don’t look very presentable,” he said. “Don’t you care,” I said; “we won’t meet anybody along this road.” “It’s the least of my troubles,” he said; “what I’m thinking about is this pesky engine. It jumps like a bull-frog; I think it’s got the pip.” Pee-wee said, “Some engines have the sleeping sickness and they won’t go at all.” Then we all got to saying how we hoped that Harry and Rossie and Tom would get the three cars to Grumpy’s Cross-roads in time so those actor people could give their show. “Even if we’re not with them,” I said. “I guess we’ll be able to make connections before they get there,” Brent said. “Oh, boy, that’ll be some good turn,” Pee-wee said. “I bet old Grump won’t be mad at the scouts any more; he’ll see that they’re dauntless and—something or other.” “Oh, he’ll see that they’re something or other,” Brent said. “I never knew a scout that wasn’t something or other.” “He’ll see that they do good turns,” the kid shouted. Gee whiz, good turns are his favorite fruit—good turns and doughnuts. Even if he had a turning lathe he couldn’t turn out any more good turns. Now maybe you know what a tornado is. Anyway, there wasn’t any that day. So you don’t need to worry. But all of a sudden dark clouds came and pretty soon the sky was all black and the wind was blowing like anything. I guess it was a cyclone, all right, only it decided not to come that way on account of the road being so bad. Anyway the wind kept up and blew right in our faces and after a while Brent said, “Did you bring those old togs along, kid?” Pee-wee said, “You mean the convict suit? It’s in the van.” “Well, get me the coat and I’ll slip it on,” Brent told him. “We may not be able to catch the convict, but I’m blamed sure I’ll catch cold.” So Pee-wee went around and into the van by the doors in back and got the convict’s jacket. I guess none of us thought there was anything funny about Brent wearing it for a little while. Only I said to him, just joking like, “You wanted to be a convict, now you’ve got your wish.” “If my mother could only see me now,” he said. “Do I look like a zebra, Pee-wee?”