We were just heading over to the drug store where the soda fountain and the ’phone booth were when Hervey said, “Keep to the left.” So just for the fun of it, to keep Pee-wee from getting a soda we followed along after Hervey. Brent said, “Honest, fellows, I think we ought to ’phone to camp.” “Duty is duty,” Hervey said, awful funny; “keep to the left; “When you go on a hike just you mind what I say, The right way to go is the opposite way. Don’t bother with drug stores but follow this song, If you turn to the right, then you’re sure to go wrong.” Brent just kind of laughed and followed along after Hervey. I had to laugh, too, to hear him shouting about duty. I guess we all knew that we ought to ’phone to camp. And I guess we all knew Hervey didn’t want us to ’phone to camp. I guess he thought they’d only tell us to come home if we ’phoned. He wasn’t hunting for trouble, that fellow. But anyway it was so funny to see Pee-wee following along after us with a terrible scowl on his face, and looking over at the drug store, that we just couldn’t help hiking right along. “A scout’s honor,” Hervey said. Gee whiz, I had to laugh at him. CHAPTER XXII OUR FAVORITE OUTDOOR SPORT “_Absolutely, positively_, I’m going to get a soda the next place we come to,” Pee-wee shouted. “I don’t blame you,” Warde said. “The next place is Greenvale,” Brent said, “and absolutely, positively, we’re going to ’phone from there.” “They’ll only tell us to come in, come in wherever we are,” Hervey said. “No, they won’t either,” Brent told him. “You’d like to get yourself and this whole party in wrong with the management. What’s the good of doing that? All they want to know is where we are. I’ll ’phone; you leave it to me, it’ll be all right. Then we can take in the carnival at Greenvale. We can eat at the carnival.” “Hunting for trouble,” Hervey said. “You’re the one that’s always hunting for trouble,” Warde told him. “_I’m_ hunting for eats, I know that,” Pee-wee piped up. “Is it possible?” I said. “Suppose there are no eats at the carnival,” the kid said, “what are we going to do? Then we can’t get anything till morning, because there are no more towns after that and Chocolate Drop will be asleep when we get to camp.” I said, “Didn’t you tell us once a scout never has to starve? That he can cook moss and make stew out of sassafras and birch bark and maple gum and cobble-stones and things. All we have to do is to squeeze the juice out of a couple of hunks of granite and stew up some willow twigs and sprinkle dirt over them like Daniel Boone used to do, _I don’t think_, in Wilderness Lore page two hundred fifty-’leven for the information of maniacs that get lost in the woods of Maine.” “That shows how much you know about—about—nature—nature’s resources!” the kid screamed.