in this scout's
Utopia. But his chief thought now was to take advantage of his fortunate
escape. He had not the faintest idea where he was, more than that he was
a full two hour's ride from home. That would be a long and lonely hike,
even if he could find his way in the darkness.

He tried to recall the names of the various lakes in New Jersey and in
the neighboring state of New York, and he recalled a good many, but that
did not help him to identify this one. So he started up toward the town
in the hope of identifying that.

The village petered out toward the lake; there were but a few houses. It
was about eleven or twelve o'clock or after and the good people in the
straggling cottages thereabout had put out their lights and retired to
slumber before that wicked hour.

There was a stillness and gloom about these uninviting, dark houses; a
cheerlessness not to be found in the densest woods. They made Pee-wee
feel lost and lonesome, as the dim, silent wilderness could never do.

Soon he reached the town, and there in the center of a spacious lawn was
something which, in his loneliness and uncertainty, seemed the picture
of gloom. The ruin of a building which had been burned to the ground.
What a fire that must have been to witness! Better far than The Bandit
of Harrowing Highway! Over a partly fallen arch, under which many
reluctant feet had passed, Pee-wee could just make out the graven words:
WEST KETCHEM PUBLIC SCHOOL.

West Ketchem. So that was where he was. But he had never heard of West
Ketchem. The fame of this lakeside metropolis had not penetrated to
surging Bridgeboro. At least it had' not penetrated to the surging mind
of Scout Harris. He tried to recall West Ketchem on the map of New
Jersey in his school geography.

But evidently West Ketchem had scorned the geography. Or else the
geography had scorned West Ketchem.

Undecided what to do, Pee-wee lingered a few moments among the mass of
charred timbers, and desks ruined and laid, low, and broken blackboards,
all in an indiscriminate heap.

"I bet the fellers that live here are glad," he said to himself. "That
isn't saying they have to believe in fires, except camp-fires, but
anyway after it's all over they've got a right to be glad."

The situation of the school seemed to have been a sort of compromise
between the claims of the lake and the claims of the town. It was not
too far from the town and not too far from the lake. Perhaps it had been
buil