n if it means something now, it might not mean anything six
months from now." Jiminy, that fellow has some brains. He said, "Never
forget to take down a sign when it's no use anymore." Well, when I
found I wasn't going to die a terrible death (that's what Pee-wee
called it) I didn't have sense enough to take away that note that I
stuck on the reeds. When I stuck it there I reached up as high as I
could, So even when the tide was high up there, I guess it didn't
reach it. I was so excited to find I could get away that I never thought
anything about it. And when I sailed into Little Valley in my Indian
canoe, gee, I had forgotten all about it.

I found that the troop had done a good day's
work caulking the hull up and slapping a couple of coats of copper
paint on it, while the tide was out. So then we decided that as long
as the tide was going down, we'd float her down with it to the Bridgeboro
River and then wait for the up tide to float her upstream to Bridgeboro.
We decided that we'd rather fix her up in Bridgeboro. So you see that
this chapter is about the tide, too. Mr. Ellsworth and Mr. Donnelle both
told me that I must have plenty of movement in my story, so I guess the
tide's a good character for a story, because it's always moving.

Well, you ought to have seen those fellows when I sailed in shouting
that I was Weetonka, the famous Indian chief. Doc Carson dropped his
paint brush on Connie Bennett and he was splashed all over with copper
paint--good night!

"Where did you get that thing," Pee-wee shouted, "it looks like a
horse's trough."

"You have to part your hair in the middle to ride in it, I can tell you
that," I told him.

"Where were you all the time?" he said.

"I was captured by a band of Apaches," I said.

"What kind of a band?" Pee-wee yelled.

"A brass band," I told him; "a brass band of
Apaches."

"You make me sick!" he said, kind of disgusted.

"They took me to their village and were going to burn me at the stake,
only the butcher didn't bring it, then they decided they'd chop me to
pieces only the butcher didn't bring the chops--"

Oh, boy! you should have seen that kid. He fired a wet bailing sponge
at me and I dodged it and it hit one of his own patrol--kerflop! I guess
you'll think all us fellows are crazy, especially me. I should worry.
I told them I escaped in the canoe and all that kind of stuff, but at
last I told them the real story and you can bet they were glad I was
saved