he wide
world.

"Are we going to carry the tent or send it up by the camp wagon?" Roy
Blakeley asked, as he and the others crowded each other off the train at
Catskill Landing. "Answer in the positive or negative."

"You mean the infirmative," Peewee shouted; "that shows how much you
know about rhetoric."

"You mean logic," Roy said.

"I know I'm hungry anyway," Peewee shouted as he threw a suitcase from
his vantage point on the platform, with such precision of aim that it
landed plunk on Connie Bennett's head, to the infinite amusement of the
passengers.

"Did it hurt you?" Peewee called.

"He isn't injured--just slightly killed," Roy shouted; "hurry up, let's
go up in the wagon and get there in time for a light lunch."

"You mean a heavy one," Peewee yelled; "here, catch this suitcase."

The suitcase landed on somebody's head, was promptly hurled at somebody
else, and the usual pandemonium caused by Temple Camp arrivals prevailed
until the entire crowd of scouts found themselves packed in the big camp
stage, and waving their hands and shouting uproariously at the
passengers in the departing train.

"First season at camp?" Roy asked a scout who almost sat on his lap and
was jogged out of place at every turn in the road.

"Yop," was the answer, "we've never been east before; we came from Ohio.
We haven't been around anywhere."

"I've been around a lot," the irrepressible Peewee piped up from his
wobbly seat on an up-ended suitcase.

"Sure, he was conductor on a merry-go-round," Roy said. "What part of
Ohio do you fellows come from?"

"The Ohio River used to be in our geography," Peewee said.

"It's there yet," Roy said; "we should worry, let it stay there."

"Do you know where Columbus is?" Peewee shouted.

"He's dead," Roy said; "do you fellows come from anywhere near Dayton?"

"We come from Dansburg," said their scoutmaster, a bright-looking young
fellow with red hair, who had been listening amusedly to this bantering
talk.

A dead silence suddenly prevailed.

"Oh, I know who you fellows are," Roy finally said. "You're going to
bunk in the three cabins on the hill, aren't you? Is your name Mr.
Barnard?"

"Yes sir," the young man answered pleasantly, "and we're the first
Dansburg, Ohio, troop."

"Do you like mince-pie?" Peewee shouted.

"We eat it alive," said scoutmaster Barnard.

"Can you eat seven pieces?" Peewee demanded.

"If we can get them," young Mr. Barnard replied.

"G--o--o-