His "trousseau," as the boys called it, was indeed
as complete and accurate as was possible. Even the scout smile, which is
not the least part of the scout make-up, was carried to a conspicuous
extreme; he smiled all over; he was one vast smile.
"Don't fall off any mountains, Pee-wee."
"Be sure to take your smile off when you go to bed."
"If you get tired, you can jump on a train."
"Pee-wee, you look as if you were posing for animal crackers."
These were some of the flippant comments which were hurled at Pee-wee as
the three, in Roy's canoe, glided from the float and up the river on the
first stage of what was destined to be an adventurous journey.
The river, along whose lower reaches Bridgeboro was situated, had its
source within a mile or two of the Hudson in the vicinity of Nyack.
From the great city it was navigable by power craft as far as Bridgeboro
and even above at full tide, but a mile or two above the boys' home town
it narrowed to a mere creek, winding its erratic way through a beautiful
country where intertwined and overarching boughs formed dim tunnels
through which the canoeist passed with no sound but the swishing of his
own paddle. The boys had never before canoed to the river's source,
though it was one of the things they had always been meaning to do. It
was a happy thought of Tom's to make it a part of their journey now and
strike into the roads along the Hudson in that way.
"Oh, crinkums, I'm crazy to see Jeb Rushmore, aren't you?" said Pee-wee.
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