We were all sitting around watching him eat apple sauce, Chocolate Drop and all. I mean Chocolate Drop was sitting around watching with the rest of us. He wasn’t eating Chocolate Drop, far be it from it absolutely nevertheless. We were all laughing, thinking about Hervey sitting out there on that window shutter waiting for a chance to break the rule by an unavoidable cat—you know what I mean—a catas—something like an accident. Hervey was waiting for the apple sauce to stop going down so _he_ could go down. All of a sudden who should come strolling into the room but Brent Gaylong. He’s kind of long and lanky, and he wears spectacles, and he’s awful funny on account of being so sober. He takes everything as it comes, the same as Pee-wee does when he’s eating. He just kind of strolled over to the table and lifted the hanging lamp off its rack and marched out with it. He said, “You fellows don’t need this.” So there we sat in total darkness—I just happened to think of that word _total_, but anyway I don’t like it because it reminds me of arithmetic. “We need this lamp to investigate some heavy tracks,” Brent said. Gee whiz, you should have seen us all jump up, even Pee-wee. Because tracks are our middle name. We all started following Brent out and it looked awful funny, that parade with him at the head of it, carrying the lamp. He’s awful funny, that fellow is, on account of being so sober. He looks just as if school was opening or something like that. Now I told you we’re all crazy and I’m going to prove it because we just followed him around just like when you play follow your leader. “Where are the tracks?” Pee-wee wanted to know. I guess he was beginning to be sorry that he had left the apple sauce. “Right down by the shore,” Brent said. “Did you say they’re heavy tracks?” the kid wanted to know, all excited. “I bet they’re from a bull moose.” “They’re the heaviest tracks I ever saw,” Brent said. He looked awful funny carrying that big lamp. He said, “I thought you fellows would be willing to cut short your suppers to see them. They’re down by the shore.” “It’s a moose,” Pee-wee shouted. “He went there to drink.” “If we can pick them up——” Brent started to say. “I’ll pick them up,” Pee-wee shouted. “And hold them——” Brent started again. “I can pick up any tracks and hold them even on hard land,” Pee-wee said. “Don’t you know I’ve got the pathfinder’s badge?” “He’s got so many badges he’s got the badger beat,” I said. “Well, here they are,” Brent said. By that time we had come to the shore and there in front of us were a couple of pieces of railroad track about a foot long each. They were the same two pieces that had always been there; they used to be used for anchors in the rowboats. Every scout in camp knew about those two rusty old pieces of railroad track. Brent said, very sober like, “What do you think of them? Is it a bull moose?” “They look more like the tracks of a pig,” I said; “they’re pig iron.”