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Updated: June 14, 2025
"Well, don't beat any here. Careful now." "Mr. Bartlett, where I live in Bridgeboro." "Sure of that?" "Sure I'm sure; didn't I " "Never mind what you did. Now what's this Mr. Bartlett's full name? Now now!" he added warningly, "just you answer the question I ask you and leave the rest to me. If you tell the truth you won't get in any trouble." Pee-wee, somewhat awed, at last subsided. "Mr.
Your two troops are ashamed of you." "If our two troops don't shut up " "We'll shut up come on, altogether!" Followed a welcome silence. "We've gone to a lot of trouble today for you kids," said one of the scoutmasters. "We've got the cup but we had to wait a couple of hours for it. The merchants in the great metropolis of Bridgeboro are so slow that a turtle would be arrested for speeding there.
Instead of going home to hear how handsome I looked, I just beat it up that creek and fished this suit of greasy rags out of one of the lockers. There was a key in the padlock and I just took off my uniform and stuffed it in the locker and beat it over to Little Landing in Bridgeboro." "You locked the padlock and took the key, didn't you?" I said.
"Then I'll send you a smoke signal," Pee-wee said, "and you can come and talk to my mother, because she'll be sure to listen to you because, anyway, you've got a lot of sense." "And several of us will canoe up to North Bridgeboro and get some stuff and tell our folks and we'll be back in an hour because the tide's starting to run up," said a boy they called Billy.
At Temple Camp troops were ever coming and going and there were new faces each summer, but the Bridgeboro Troop was an institution there. It was because of his interest in this troop, and particularly in Tom's reformation, that Mr. John Temple of Bridgeboro, had founded the big camp in the Catskills.
While Edgemere and Bridgeboro fought he would become a war millionaire. The little island, retired from its wild career at last and with a secure and fixed abode would still play an important part in world affairs. "I tell you what we'll do," said Pee-wee; "we'll sell seats for people to see the races from the island.
"Did you say civil?" said Roly Poly; "don't mention civil in the same sentence with him; he's the man that put the crab in crab-apple." "He's got a dandy orchard, though," said Pee-wee. "Sure, this is a part of it," said Roly Poly. "Good night," said Pee-wee; "I don't blame it for going away from him. Can he take it back? It's an island now and it's part of Bridgeboro.
He seemed chilled and very much worried. He looked wistfully ahead at the graveyard where the strange, soft, reflected light shone. "The people around here haven't got any 'phones," he said. "Anyways what's the use 'phoning Mr. Bartlett because he'll only be in bed. If we're going straight to Bridgeboro, gee whiz, what's the good of 'phoning?
Just below Bridgeboro, where we live, there is a kind of a branch flowing into the Bridgeboro River. We always called it the creek. Now we found out from Mr. Donnelle that it started along up above Little Valley. Over there they call it Dutch Creek. He said that at high tide we could float the houseboat right down into Bridgeboro River and then wait for the up tide or else tow it up to Bridgeboro.
It came from Dutch Creek and Dutch Creek flows into the Bridgeboro River, and Bridgeboro River rises in the northern part of some place or other and takes a some kind of a course and flows into New York Bay. Once I got kept in, in school, for not knowing that. But how should I know where this creek went? It came-that was enough for me. I should worry where it went.
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