“come on and help,” i said to pee-wee.
“suppose the fish jumps off the bridge,” he said. “do you think i’m going to take any chances?”
“the strength of an animal cracker doesn’t count for much,” garry said.
“look out the fish doesn’t jump in the creek with you,” i told pee-wee.
well, we pushed and pushed and pushed and braced our feet and kept pushing for dear life, but we couldn’t budge that lever. pee-wee held the fish tight under one arm and helped us but it wasn’t any use. we just couldn’t budge the lever.
“we’re marooned for fair,” bert said.
“boy scouts starve on merry-go-round island,” i said. “that would be a good heading for a newspaper article.”
“merry-go-standstill you mean,” hervey began laughing. “what do we care? it’s all in the game. come ahead, give her one more push; follow your leader.”
“do you call starving a game?” the kid fairly yelled at him. i had to laugh, he looked so funny standing there with the fish under his arm.
we tried some more but—no use. “the merry-go-round has stalled,” i said. “we’ve got robinson crusoe tearing his hair with jealousy.”
“we’re on a desert island in earnest,” bert said. he was the last to give up.
“don’t talk about desert, it reminds me of dessert,” i said.
“i’m not so much in earnest either,” hervey began laughing. “come on, follow your leader.” then he started to jump up on the railing.
i said, “it’s a very good joke; he, he, ho, ho, and a couple of ha ha’s! but how about lunch? we can’t start a fire on this bridge without burning it up and besides we haven’t got any kindling.”
“the only way we can get off the bridge is to burn it up,” hervey said. “the boy scout stood on the burning bridge——”
“eating fish by the peck,” i said. “this is a new kind of a desert island—1921 model. we made it ourselves. but what care we? we have food. we care naught, quoth i.”
“what good is the food?” pee-wee screamed. “you broke the bridge, that’s what you did! and now we’ve got to go hungry.”
“go?” i said. “what do you mean by ‘go’? you mean we’ve got to stay here hungry. our skeletons will be found on merry-go-round island——”
“following their leader,” hervey said.
“along with the skeleton of a faithful fish,” bert said. “that’s what happens to young boys when they go around too much.”
“that’s what happens when any one goes around with this bunch,” the kid shouted. “you’re so crazy that it’s catching; even the sign posts and bridges go crazy. the next time i go on a funny-bone hike i won’t go at all, but if i do i’ll bring my lunch you can bet.”
“what’ll we do next?” hervey wanted to know.
i said, “let’s have a feast, let’s feast our eyes on the fish. i can just kind of hear him sizzling over the fire.”
“you can’t eat sizzles,” the kid said, very disgusted like.
i said, “no, but you can think of them. let’s all think how fine the fish would taste if we could only cook him. do you remember how we moved a lunch wagon by the power of our appetites? maybe we can move the bridge that way.”
“you make me tired,” pee-wee yelled. “if you hadn’t started this crazy—look at the chocolate bars you made us throw away.”
“i’d like to have a look at them,” i said.
we all perched up on the railing of the bridge, pee-wee holding the fish under one arm for fear it might flop off the bridge. safety first. sitting the way we did we were all facing the shore. there were woods there and dandy places to build a fire. there were twigs and things all around.
i said, “it would be fine over there. we could just get that piece of tin pee-wee was telling us about and gather up some of those nice dry twigs and start a little fire and let the tin get red hot and then lay the fish on it——”
“shut up!” the kid shouted.
“only the trouble is we’re marooned on a desert island,” i said. “anyway there’s one thing i like and that is adventure. i was always crazy to starve on a desert island.”
“you don’t have to tell us you’re crazy,” pee-wee said.
“we followed you back to the sign post,” i told him, “and you promised to cook us a fish. let’s see you do it. a scout’s honor is to be trusted, he’s supposed to keep his word—scout law number forty-eleven.”
“how about diving?” hervey asked. “it’s the only way to get into the water; there isn’t any way to climb down off this thing; the underneath part of it is way inside.”
“where did you expect it to be? up in the air?” i asked him. “the underneath part is usually underneath.”
“not always,” bert said.
“well, anyway,” i said, “i’m not going to risk my life diving into water that i don’t know anything about. suppose i should break my skull; what good would a fish dinner be to me?”
“that’s a good argument,” garry said.
“it’s a peach of an argument,” i told him.
“it’s what pee-wee calls logic. gee whiz, but i’m hungry.”
“same here,” bert said.
“same here,” garry said.
“same here,” hervey said.
“same here,” warde said.
“i’m as hungry as the whole five of you put together,” our young hero said. “i heard a story that a man can go forty days without food, but you can’t get me to swallow that.”
“it’s about the only thing that you wouldn’t swallow,” i told him. “i’m so hungry i’d swallow any argument i ever heard; i’d swallow any kind of a story, especially a fish story.”
“there you go again,” bert said; “what’s the good of reminding us about it?”
“i’d swallow a serial story,” i told him; “any kind of cereal, oatmeal, cream of wheat, or anything.”
so we just sat there looking across the creek into the woods, and swinging our legs, but we were too hungry to sing.
“let’s look for a sail on the horizon,” hervey said. “that’s always the way people do when they’re starving on desert drawbridges. this would make a good movie play.”
“you mean a good standing still play,” i said; “the trouble with this hike is there isn’t any action in it.”
“you mean there isn’t any food in it,” pee-wee piped up.
“don’t you care,” i told him, “there’s a desert island. what more do you want? and we’ve got plenty of food only we can’t cook it. that’s better than being able to cook it and not having any. we should worry.”
