File:Roy Blakeley's motor caravan (1921) (14566289438).jpg

Identifier: royblakeleysmoto00fitz (find matches)
Title: Roy Blakeley's motor caravan
Year: 1921 (1920s)
Authors: Fitzhugh, Percy Keese, 1876-1950
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Publisher: New York : Grosset & Dunlap
Contributing Library: New York Public Library
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

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hey were supposed to be alert, ob-servant, resourceful. I said, Thats right, rub it into us. He said, While they were arguing on the backstep I stood upon a grocery box and crawled 144 ROY BLAKELEYS through the little window in back of the frontseat. I was free, like Monte Carlo—I mean Monte Cristo You mean Monticello, I told him. (You mean Montenegro, Pee-wee put in. The world seemed bright and new, Brentsaid. Youre crazy, I told him; go on, where didyou get those clothes? He said, Shh. Can I count on you never tobreathe a word? The man I got these clothesfrom lies dead in yonder swamp. Who put him there? Pee-wee wanted toknow. Brent said, Shh, I did. The man was innocent.He was standing in a field beyond the swamp.He was doing no harm. I approached him, crawl-ing through the grass. What was he doing there? Pee-wee wanted to know. He was scaring away crows, Brent said. He was a scarecrow! I blurted out. A harmless, innocent, hard working scare-crow, Brent said. As I think of it now
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BRENT CAPTURED A SCARECROW. H B!t tleys Motor Caravan. Page 144 MOTOR CARAVAN 145 You make me tired! Pee-wee yelled. Whydidnt you say so? Brent said, His trustful, happy, carefree facehaunts me now. He was only scaring away the crows You give me a pain! the kid shouted.Youre crazy. Brent said, But I thought of my dungeon inthe Jolly & Kidder van and of my brutalkeepers, those two boy scouts—asleep on the backstep. I said to myself, I will never returnwhither You mean thither, Pee-wee said. I said to myself, They will have to kill meto take me alive/ Brent said. Anyway, you killed him? I asked him. He said, I killed him in cold blood—anywayit wasnt more than lukewarm. I tore him topieces and took his clothes and concealed my tell-tale convict stripes under a weeping willow. Itwas weeping its eyes out. Its a wonder it wasnt laughing, I told him. He said, The poor fellow was as thin as astick; his arms were made of a cross stick, I i46 ROY BLAKELEYS think it was a broom stick. He

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