So the next morning the five of us started out. We were a kind of a rainbow patrol because we belonged to different troops. But anyway we were all scouts—especially Hervey Willetts, because he’s an out-and-out scout on account of being out all the time.

The only one of us that was normal was Warde; he’s so normal that he’s going to the State Normal School, only when he’s with us he’s crazy because it’s catching.

The first trouble we had just before we started was really just after we started, because when we passed Commissary Shack we were going to stop and have them put us up a lunch, but Hervey said we were on the path to the main road and Commissary Shack was on our right, and we had no right to stop there.

“We haven’t started yet,” Pee-wee shouted. “We don’t start till we get to the road; we’re still in camp!”

“Who’s still?” I asked him. “It’s the first time I ever knew you to be still. We’re on the path leading to the main road. If you leave the path you’re out of the hike. On this hike we have no right to pay any attention to anything that’s right. We can only turn into roads to the left and we can’t pay any attention to things on the right-hand side of those roads—only the left. There isn’t any right at all on this hike. We’re only supposed to see out of our left eyes.”

“Do you mean to tell me I have to keep my right eye shut?” Pee-wee shouted.

“And your mouth too,” I told him.

“Now I know you’re all crazy!” he yelled.

“Right,” I said.

“You mean left,” Hervey put in.

Brent said, “Before we go any farther let’s settle about the rules.”

Hervey said, “The idea is to turn into every road we come to that goes to the left; that’s the only rule.”

“And we mustn’t pay any attention to anything that’s on the right-hand side of the left-hand road,” I said.

“Absolutely, positively,” Warde said.

“How are we going to get back?” the kid wanted to know. “Do you think I want to spend the rest of my life turning to the left?”

“If you’re going to spend the rest of your life turning, the left is just as good as the right,” I told him. “Those are the two best directions except the one you usually go in, and that’s up in the air.”

“You’ll be sorry we didn’t take lunch with us,” he said.

“I’m sorry already,” I told him, “but duty is duty; we can’t start off by turning to the right, lunch or no lunch. Better starvation than dishonor. Anyway here comes Sandwich, let’s take him along.”

Now I’ll tell you about Sandwich. He’s the dog at Temple Camp, and we call him Sandwich because he’s half-bred. Nobody knows how he got to Temple Camp, but a lot of scouts say he followed Hervey Willetts from Catskill. If he did he must have had some job. He’s a sort of blackish white. It’s good his tail is at the other end of him, because it would make him nervous to see it. Anyway he should worry. So as long as he was going to go anyway we invited him.

All of a sudden, just as we were turning into the West Trail around the lake (because that turns out of Cabin Lane to the left) a scout called after Hervey Willetts and said, “Hey, Hervey, you’re wanted within.”

“Can you beat that?” Hervey wanted to know, all disgruntled.

“You better go back,” I said, because I know he doesn’t think much about not paying any attention to trustees and people like that.

“Within where?” he called out.

“Within the next six or seven hours,” the scout shouted.

“No sooner said than stung,” I told Hervey.

That fellow’s always afraid he’ll be called down as many times as I get called up, because I know a girl in Catskill—that’s about ten miles from camp—and she’s all the time calling me up to go and play basket-ball. Pee-wee has no use for basket-ball, but he’s crazy about basket lunches.

So long, I’ve got to go to scout meeting now. When I get home I’m going to start chapter seven. And when you start reading it you want to look out not to get too near the edge, because there’s all water in that chapter. It’s kind of like a lake surrounded by a chapter—you’ll see.