Now I'll tell you just exactly what happened while I was lying on that seat. Charlie Chaplin came to me and he said, "General Pershing says for you to get off of that barrel." I said, "I won't get off of the barrel till I finish eating this apple." Then he said, "If you don't get off the barrel, we'll shoot the barrel out from under you."

So then General Pershing and Charlie Chaplin began wheeling a whole lot of cannons so as to make a big circle around me. And all the while Douglas Fairbanks was standing there laughing. Then they began shooting at the barrel, and every time a cannon ball hit the barrel it would joggle and almost shake me off. Sometimes the barrel stood up on edge and then a cannon ball would knock it back again and it would go dancing every which way with me on it. I had to hang on for dear life. Pretty soon I got mad (gee whiz, you couldn't blame me) and I threw the core of the apple at General Pershing, and he began to laugh. He said, "Never hit me!"

Pretty soon the barrel got knocked over sideways and I was sprawling all over it trying to keep on top while it rolled down a hill. All the while Charlie Chaplin was running after me and trying to hook me with his cane and somebody shouted, "What does it say on the waybill? Look on the waybill!" And I could hear a sound like whistling. Then, good night! all of a sudden I went kerflop off the barrel. Just then a man shouted, "All on!" I guess he meant all off. Anyway, I didn't care, because I was lying in an automobile and jogging along awful nice and easy.

In the morning I was lying on the floor of the car with my arm around Connie Bennett's leg. Every one of those four fellows was dead to the world. I pushed up the shutter that had slipped down, like they always do, and looked out of the window. Right outside was a barrel. But I didn't see General Pershing. There was a big field right near, and over farther was a lake. It was a dandy lake, with woods on the opposite shore. There were big high mountains, too, all bright on top, because the sun was coming up over them.

I went out on the platform and looked up the track. I could see way far off till the tracks went to a point. The car was on a siding. Not very far off I could see smoke curling up and I knew there must be a house there somewhere. On the other side from the lake was a store with a platform in front of it. It wasn't open yet.

I went in and washed my hands and face at the water cooler, then went out and looked again. But there wasn't anything to see, only the lake and the woods and the smoke curling up among the trees, and the store right near. I got out and looked at the side of the car. There was the big sign sprawling all over it.

That place wasn't Bridgeboro, that was one sure thing. Because, gee whiz, I know Bridgeboro when I see it. And it wasn't Brewster's Centre, either.

I went in and began shaking Pee-wee, but it wasn't any use. Then I gave Westy a good shove and I shouted at him, "Wake up, the plot grows thicker. We're somewhere, but I don't know where. We're lost, strayed or stolen. Wake up, your country needs you."

He sat up in the seat, rubbing his eyes and yawning. Then he said, kind of half asleep, "I—s—s—s—a—t—day? Wha'—we—doin'—a—a—a—here?"

I said, "It's Saturday, and we're here because we're here. But I don't know where. There's a lake and a lot of woods and some mountains."

"Le's see 'em," he said.

"Look out of the window," I told him.

He just yawned, "Where are they? Outside?"

"They're on the landscape," I told him; "come on, we'll go and stalk them before they sneak away. Get up, you lazy ..."

Just then Connie Bennett rolled over and sat up and tried to keep his eyes open while he looked out of the window.

"Wass become Bridgeboro?" he said.

"It just went out to get some rolls for breakfast," I said; "it'll be right back."

"Where are we at?" he wanted to know.

"Search me," I told him; "all I know is I was rolling down a hill on a barrel and Charlie Chaplin was running after me. There's the barrel out there now."