Alsen is a tenderfoot village. It’s about as big as Pee-wee, only it’s more quiet. Pee-wee’s size is like Alsen but his noise is like New York.

The train stopped at Alsen and we got off. Right there was a train standing at the station headed north.

“Talk about luck,” Garry said. “I guess it was waiting for us.”

I said, “I enjoyed my trip south.”

“I was looking forward to hiking from here to camp,” Hervey said.

“Believe me, it’s nearer from Catskill,” I told him. “A train can go a long way in five minutes.”

“A comet can go billions of miles in a second,” the Animal Patrol piped up.

“If I see a comet I’ll get on it,” I told him; “follow your leader.”

“That’s one thing I never did; ride on a comet,” Hervey said.

“It’s about the only thing you haven’t done,” I told him. “Come on, follow your leader.”

I went marching up into one of the cars; Pee-wee tripped on the step.

“That’s a short trip to take,” Warde laughed at him.

“That could happen to the smartest man in the world,” the kid said.

“All right, here we go back again,” I said as we all tumbled into a couple of seats. Then I started to sing that crazy stuff about the Duke of Yorkshire:

“Alsen is a mighty nice place, what I saw of it,” Garry said. “I couldn’t see it on account of the station. The happiest ten seconds of my life were spent there.”

I said, “I wish I could have spent a nickel there.”

“Are you going to start for camp when we get to Catskill?” the kid wanted to know. “I’m getting hungry.”

“I thought you didn’t have to eat for four years, that’s what you said,” I told him.

“What are you talking about?” he yelled.

I said, “When we get back to Catskill you’re going to follow your gallant leader in an east westerly direction till we come to the—North Pole, I mean the clothespole, outside the cooking shack at Temple Camp. We’re going to reach the pole like Doctor Cook didn’t do. When I hang my patrol scarf on the clothespole outside the cooking shack that’s a sign our journey is over. From the West Shore Line to the clothesline, that’s our motto.”

“We’re starting,” Warde said.

“Get your dimes ready,” Garry said.

“I haven’t got anything smaller than a cent,” I told him.

“You mean you haven’t got any sense,” Pee-wee shot at me.

“I’m poor but dishonest,” I said.

Just then I heard the door at the other end of the car slam shut and a brakeman came through shouting, “Albany the first stop, the first stop is Albany.”

“G-o-o-d night!” I said. “The plot grows thicker.”

“It’s petrified,” Warde said.

“We’re lost, strayed or stolen,” Garry began laughing.

We all made a dash for the platform, but it was too late. We were foiled again. The train was going at about forty-eleven miles an hour.

“Now what?” Pee-wee demanded, very dark and solemn like.

“Answered in the affirmative,” I said; “we don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he said.

“Don’t care,” Hervey spoke up. “We can do some stunts in the State Capital. We can jump over the seats in the Senate. Albany is only about thirty miles away.”

I said, “Posilutely; we can get back inside of four years and have a couple of centuries to spare. Follow your leader wherever he goes. I may jump over the governor’s head; they pass bills over his head. You learn that in uncivil government.”

“The more we start for camp the farther we get from it,” the kid said.

“Correct the first time,” I said; “be thankful you’re not on a comet.”

“What are we going to do?” he wanted to know.

“Is it a riddle?” I asked him.

“No, it isn’t a riddle!” he shot back at me.

“Because if it is, it’s a good one,” I said. “It’s about the best one I ever heard.”

“I like the West Shore Railroad,” Hervey said; “it’s full of pep; it goes scout pace.”

“You wanted ginger in our trip back to camp,” I said, “and you’ve got tabasco sauce. Gee whiz, you ought to be satisfied. We’ll go back to camp by way of the island of Yap.”

“You’re the leader,” Warde said.