“Words speak loud enough,” the kid yelled. “_Good night_, you said it,” I told him. “Even now we’re doing a good turn,” the kid shouted; “we’ve got three more autos over on the other road and we’re taking some Uncle Tom’s Cabin actors to the Veteran’s Reunion. We should worry if the railroad trains don’t run.” Jimmies, I don’t know how much more he might have told them, he’s a human billboard for the Boy Scouts of America, that kid is; but all of a sudden, _zip goes the fillum_, that black tarry stuff came shooting out from all the holes in the sprinkler and Brent came crawling out from underneath it with his trousers and his shirt all black and sticky and his hair all mucked up with the stuff and with a big streaky smudge all over his face. “_Good night!”_ I shouted. “What happened?” “I found it,” he said; “it had joggled shut, just as I thought. If you happen to have a few feathers handy, you can tar and feather me. I did a good turn, only I didn’t turn over and get out quick enough.” Oh, boy, that fellow was a sight! XIX—BRENT GETS HIS WISH One thing about those men, they weren’t very good scouts, I’ll say that much. The only good turn they did was to turn around and drive away. Maybe the Union wouldn’t let them do good turns; Unions have got no use for good turns. First we decided that we’d stop at the nearest house, but one thing about scouts, they don’t like to ask for help unless they have to. But if you offer them something to eat it’s all right for them to take it. I said to Brent, “Well, you were crazy for an adventure, now you’ve got one.” He said, “I don’t care about such a sticky one. I’m not exactly what you would call crazy about tar shower baths.” “You’ll have to cut your hair off, that’s one sure thing,” I told him; “you’ll never be able to get that stuff out of your hair.” “I’d like to sit down, too,” he said; “but if I did, I could never get up again. I think the sooner I’m fixed up the better. Let’s run the van alongside the road and get inside and see what we can do. Our friend’s suit of clothes is still in there. After boasting about my dreams of adventure it seems rather tame to go into somebody’s back kitchen for repairs. I’m afraid Harry would indulge in a gentle smile.” “He’d indulge in a gentle fit if he saw you now,” I told him. “I say let’s not go to anybody for assistance,” Pee-wee spoke up. “We can get gasoline out of the tank, so you can wash the tar off your face, and I’ve got a folding scissors in my scout knife. I’ll cut your hair for you.” “How would you like to have it cut?” I asked him, just kidding him. “I think I’d like it cut dark,” he said. I said, “Well, we’ll cut it short and then if you don’t like it we’ll cut it longer.”