“Bully for you, Alf,” I said.

“Oh, I don’t say he doesn’t understand engines,” Brent said; “but I think that engines don’t understand him—they don’t appreciate him.”

him

“He understands everything,” Skinny shouted.

everything

“Well, he understands how to get on the right side of scouts,” Brent began laughing.

Pretty soon we got into the village and came to the place where the road branched off the main street.

“This the place where I turn?” Brent asked us.

“Yes,” Pee-wee said.

“No—wait a minute,” Grove spoke up.

“Go a little further,” I said, “and you’ll see a road—wait a minute—where are we?”

“This is a fine outfit of scouts,” Brent said; “you’d get lost in a department store. Guess again.

“You turn in this road,” Pee-wee shouted.

“No, you don’t,” Grove said; “wait a minute, yes, you do.”

“Oh, goody, goody, goody!” I began shouting. “Everybody’s wrong, as usual, except me—I mean I. There’s the machine now; look between those two houses. A scout is observant.”

Oh, goody, goody, goody!

In the dark we could see across a lawn between two houses, and there was the car, sure enough.

“Go up to the next road,” I said, “and turn in.”

“Anything you say,” Brent laughed.

“For a minute I didn’t know where I was at,” Grove said.

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