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Roy Blakeley's Camp on Wheels Part 18

Roy Blakeley's Camp on Wheels - BestLightNovel.com

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I said, "You don't call this car a dead one, do you? You ought to have seen the adventures it had."

He laughed and said, "A dead special is a pickup. It ain't carried straight through. It's picked up and laid down and picked up. See?"

"We should worry when we get home," I said.

"You'll get there," he said, nice and pleasant; "don't you worry."

"Worry?" Connie said. "That must be a Greek word; I never heard it."

He was an awful nice fellow, that brakeman.

Pretty soon we were all sprawling on the seats, started on our favorite indoor sport, jollying Pee-wee. The train went through a pretty wild country and sometimes we could look way down into deep valleys, and sometimes mountains went right up straight from the tracks and seemed like walls outside the windows.

Wig said, "To-morrow is Columbus Day."

"Right the first time," I told him; "I wish we weren't going to get home 'till Tuesday."

"What's the difference between Tuesday?" Connie wanted to know.

"Is it a conundrum?" I said.

"No, it's an adverb, I mean a proverb," he said.

"Tuesday and _what_?" Pee-wee shouted.

"Tuesday and nothing," Connie said; "just Tuesday. Ask me the answer to it."

"You're crazy," Pee-wee shouted; "what's the answer to it?"

Connie said, "There isn't any answer. Want to hear another? How many onions are there?"

"Where?" Pee-wee yelled.

"Anywhere," Connie said.

"That shows how much sense you have," the kid screamed.

I laughed so hard I nearly fell off the seat.

"What's the cause of tears?" Connie said right back at him.

"What?" Pee-wee asked him.

"Crying," Connie said. "Why is the sky blue?"

"Why is it?" the kid shouted.

"It isn't," Connie said; "look out of the window, it's black."

"That isn't a riddle," Pee-wee shouted.

"It's a fact," Connie said; "what's the answer to a question?"

"You make me tired," the kid screamed; "what kind of a question?"

"Any kind," Connie said; "how fast is a mile?"

"A mile isn't fast, you crazy Indian!" Pee-wee screamed at him. "That shows----"

"All right, how slow is it then?" Connie asked him. "Suppose I have my picture taken."

"Well, what?" the kid blurted out.

"Nothing," Connie said.

"You said, suppose you had your picture taken," Pee-wee screamed.

"All right, suppose I did; what of it?" Connie laughed.

"He's got a right to have his picture taken, hasn't he?" I said. "You can take mine if you'll bring it back."

"You're all crazy," Pee-wee shouted; "you don't know a riddle when you see one. Do you call those riddles? A riddle is something where you ask a question and the answer, kind of, means something else."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"Precisely," Westy said; "the same as somewhere is a place you get to, by going to it. Deny it if you can."

"Well, there's one place I'm going to," Connie said; "and that's asleep."

"If you don't mind, I'll go with you," Wig said.

I don't know how it is, but just before we turn in, we always have a lot of nonsense like that. I bet you think we're crazy. Pretty soon Westy and I were the only ones awake. He's so careful he never goes anywhere without thinking it over beforehand--not even to sleep. If he were going to go crazy, he'd have to think it all over beforehand and count ten first. Talk about watching your step; he has his chained. And he always remembers where he puts things, too. He never even loses his temper. I don't lose mine much, but gee whiz, I mislay it sometimes.

CHAPTER XXIV

UP IN THE AIR

"This is a pretty wild country," Westy said; "it's all mountains. Do you hear the echo of the engine?"

Just as clear as could be, I could hear the sound of the engine echoing back from the mountains; the chugging and rattling sounded double, like.

Then, pretty soon, it kind of died away.

After about half a minute, Westy and I just sat staring at each other, listening.

"That's funny," he said; "it seems to be going farther away."

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Roy Blakeley's Camp on Wheels Part 18 summary

You're reading Roy Blakeley's Camp on Wheels. This manga has been translated by Updating. Author(s): Percy Keese Fitzhugh. Already has 726 views.

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