Now you'd think that after what happened, our young hero, P. Harris, wouldn't go hunting for any more glory for a couple of days. But late that very afternoon, he performed one of his most famous feats. It was an accident, but anyway, he scooped up all the credit. That's always the way it is with Pee-wee; things go his way, and then all of a sudden, zip goes the fillum, he's a boy hero.

After dinner that afternoon, we took a walk through the woods with the girls and helped them get some birch-bark, because they wanted to make birch-bark ornaments. It's dandy taking walks on Sundays. We got some hickory nuts, too. I said we'd climb the trees, because girls couldn't do things like that and scouts could climb. I said, "A scout is a monkey."

"Girls can do lots of things, too," Pee-wee piped up, oh, so nice and gallant; "do you mean to tell me girls aren't monkeys—too?"

"Don't, you'll start my head aching again," I told him.

"Oh, you said we were monkeys," Pug Peters said; "you're perfectly horrid."

"I mean, because on account of climbing," he said; "because they know how to climb. I mean, you know, the ones that know how to climb——"

"Baboons," Westy said.

"Sure," Pee-wee piped up; "No, not baboons, you make me sick!"

"We accept your apology," I told him.

Every time Pee-wee opens his mouth he puts his foot in it—and then blames somebody else.

Late in the afternoon we left the girls at their camp. We said we'd come over to see them next day—that was Columbus Day. But the way it happened, we didn't see them again until a long time afterwards, and that's going to be in another story. So if you like girls, you'd better be sure to get the next story. Gee whiz, I used to make fun of girls, but anyway, I like them a lot. Pee-wee says they're so kind of hospital; he means hospitable. And I'll always remember Camp Smile Awhile, you can bet. Because we had more than a good smile there; we had a good laugh. Girls are all right.

Then we hiked along the woods' path that led around the lake, back to Ridgeboro. Our car looked mighty nice and cosy, you can bet, as we came along.

"We're having a mighty good time here," Connie said; "I'll be sorry when we have to drag ourselves away."

"We don't have to drag ourselves away," I told him; "all we have to do is to sit still and be dragged away."

"This is the life," Westy said.

Connie said, "Sure, life on the rails; it's got life on the ocean wave beaten a hundred ways. When do you suppose they'll pick us up?"

"Tuesday morning is the first freight," I told him. "There's a passenger train to-morrow night, but it doesn't stop here, see?" And I showed him the time table.

"We should worry," I said; "we've got nearly twenty dollars from the movie show. I've got Mr. Temple's fifty sealed up in an envelope; we're supposed to forget that. Guess I might as well keep the time table, hey?"

"I bet it's fun living on the railroad," Wig said.

"I'd like to be a brakeman," Pee-wee shouted.

"That would be a good job for you," I told him; "you make so many breaks. I think you ought to be cook on a dining car."

"It's dangerous working on a railroad," Connie said; "lots of men lose their lives; sometimes they lose their hands or their fingers, too."

"If you lose your life, what's the use of keeping your fingers?" Westy said.

"Sure," I said; "they would only be a nuisance."

"But I mean it," Connie said; "I heard that. If a man works on a railroad long enough he gets killed."

"If he lives long enough he dies," I said.

"There's a large percentage of mortality," Connie said.

"A large which of whatness?" I asked him; "stand up and speak clearly so all the class can hear."

"All right," he said; "it's true."

"It's all right if you have your private car," Wig said. "All you have to do is to sit back and take it easy."

"Sure, if you're in your private car it's all right," Connie said.

By that time we had come to the car and Pee-wee was the first one to go up the steps. Now I don't know whether maybe it was because we had been talking about railroading that Pee-wee thought he'd play brakeman, but anyway, like the crazy kid he was, as soon as he was on the platform he grabbed the wheel that's connected with the brake and turned it out of its ratchet and twirled it around, shouting, "All aboard! All aboard!"

"Let that thing alone," I said, as the rest of us passed into the car.

"There isn't any spark in it," he shouted. Crinkums, that kid is crazy.

He followed us into the car and we all sprawled down into seats, because we were good and tired.

Westy said, "Oh, boy, it's good to sit down. I wonder if our friend Eb Brewster was here. Next stop is the Land of Nod. I don't want any supper."

"G—o—o—d night!" Connie said; "I'll be hanged if we're not moving."

Just then, I looked out and saw the closed up store sneaking slowly away.

"Bye-bye, Ridgeboro," Wig shouted; "see you later."

By now the car was moving along at a pretty good clip. The store was 'way behind us and we were rolling sweetly down a grade into a kind of jungle of bushes and tree stumps.

"Good night!" I said; "The plot grows thicker. Where are we at?"

We fell all over each other getting out to the platform, and Wig and I grabbed the wheel and turned it as fast as we could, tightening up the chain.

"I thought you said it didn't have any spark in it," I said to Pee-wee.

"I—I thought it didn't," he blurted out; "where are we going?"

"Ask me something easy," I said; "get out of the way. Grab hold of this, Westy, and pull for all you're worth."

We had the chain tight now and it was only a case of pulling the brakes tight against the wheels, but, oh, boy, that takes some strength. We were rolling along an old pair of rails that were buried under grass and bushes and sometimes we couldn't even see them. It was a regular jungle. I guess maybe they used to back freight cars down there after lumber. But it must have been a long time ago, because the stumps were old and the place was all overgrown. Anyway, that track that we had been left on was more than just a switch siding, that was sure.

First I didn't mind so much, because things like that are all in the game, and I thought it would be easy to stop the car. There was hardly any grade at all where the train had left us, that was sure, but it doesn't take much of a grade to start things moving on tracks. I guess that's why they always tighten the brakes when they leave a car. And if there's one person that knows how to start things, it's Pee-wee. That's his favorite recreation.

Anyway, now we saw that we were in a pretty bad fix. The grade was good and steep now and we were moving pretty fast, and no matter how hard we pulled on the wheel, it didn't seem to make the car slow down. I have to admit I was getting a little scared. I guess the other fellows were, too.

"Maybe the thick brush will slow us down," Westy said; "it's awful thick, ahead."

"Not when we've got a start like this," I told him; "we're just cutting it all to pieces."

"Maybe one of us could jump off and put a log on the track," Pee-wee said.

"Yes, and what would happen to the car, and us maybe?" Connie asked him. "You've done mischief enough for one day. Look ahead there!"

Jumping Christopher! There, about a hundred feet in front of us was a road crossing the tracks and a little further, beyond the road, was some water. I guess it was an arm of the lake. Anyway, the tracks ran right downhill to the very edge of it. The car was going too fast for us to jump off now.