Well, believe me, we hit a plan all right; we more than hit it, we gave
it a knockout blow. All the while we were talking, he was taking us
across the lawn till pretty soon we came to a little patch of woods and
as soon as I got a whiff of those trees, good night, I felt as if I was
up at Temple Camp already. That's a funny thing about trees--you get to
know them and like them sort of.

Then pretty soon we came to a creek that ran through the woods and I
could see it was deep and all shaded by the trees. Oh, jiminy, it was
fine. And you could hear it ripple too, just like the water of Black
Lake up near Temple Camp. If I was a grown-up author I could write
some dandy stuff about it, because it was all dark and spooky as you
might say, and you could see the trees reflected in it and casting
their something or other--you know what I mean.

"Can you follow a trail?", Mr. Donnelle asked us.

"Trails are our middle names;" I told him, "and I can follow one--"

"Whitherso'er--" Pee-wee began.

"Whither so which?" I said. Because he was trying to talk high brow
just because he knew Mr. Donnelle was an author.

So he led us along a trail that ran along the shore all in and out
through trees, and he said it was all his property. Pretty soon I
could see part of a house through the trees and I thought I'd like to
live there, it was so lonely.

"You mean secluded," Pee-wee said. Mr. Donnelle smiled and I told him