sitting here," Wig said.

"I wonder who it belongs to?" Pee-wee said. "I bet it belongs to a rich
millionaire."

"Yes, or a poor one," Connie said. "There's only one thing I don't like
about this Pierce-Arrow, and that's that I don't own it. Otherwise, it's
all right."

"There's one thing _I_ don't like about it," I said.

"You're crazy!" Pee-wee shouted. "What don't you like about a
Pierce-Arrow?"

"One great objection," I said.

"You must be crazy," he yelled. "You can bet I haven't got any
objections to a Pierce-Arrow."

"That's because you're not as honest as I am," I said.

"Who? Me?" he hollered.

"The only thing I have against this machine is that it's stolen," I
said. "I'm funny that way."

"You make me sick," Pee-wee said.

"I'd feel the same way about a flivver," I said.

"If you took a flivver, that wouldn't be stealing," Connie said; "it
would be shoplifting."

"Sure, or pickpocketing," Wig said.

"Do you know the only way to tell if a man has a Ford?" I asked Pee-wee.
"Search him. Look how the sun is going down."

The Brewster's Centre sign was all bright on account of the sun setting.
It was getting dark and kind of cold and it made me homesick, sort of.
It seemed funny to see that car standing there across that strange road,
with the lake on one side and the thick woods on the other. The woods
were beginning to look dark and gloomy, and the arm of the lake was all
steel color. I was glad on account of that sign, because it seemed
friendly, like. That's one thing about an automobile, it doesn't seem
friendly, like. But boats do. And the old car did, that was one sure
thing.

Mostly scouts don't care much about railroads, because they like the
water and they like to hike. But anyway, that old car was friendly.
Especially it seemed friendly on account of the sun going down and the
day beginning to die and it getting cold. You can talk about boats and
motorcycles and tents and leaf shelters and all those things, but
anyway, none of them were as good as that old car. And don't you
forget, either, that it was Westy that saved it for us. If it hadn't
been for him, it would have been in the lake.

He's one real scout, Westy is.

CHAPTER XXI

THE SHERIFF ARRIVES

We were singing that crazy stuff that we had made up, when all of a
sudden, along came an automobile with four men in it, and stopped right
behind us. We heard one of them say, "Why, that's the car, now."

They all ju