"
"I often heard about how a story runs," Harry Donnelle said, "but I never
heard of one going scout pace."
"You leave it to me," I said, "this story is going to have action."
Then Will Dawson had to start shouting again. Cracky, that fellow's a fiend
on arithmetic. He said, "If there are two hundred pages and thirty lines on
a page, that means we've got to go more than one-sixteenth of a mile for
every line."
"Righto," I told him, "action in every word. The only place a fellow can
get a chance to rest, is at the illustrations."
Dorry Benton said, "I wish you luck."
"The pleasure is mine," I told him.
"Anyway, who ever told you, you could write a book?" he asked me.
"Nobody _had_ to tell me; I admit I can," I said.
"How about a plot?" he began shouting.
"There's going to be a plot forty-eight by a hundred feet," I came back at
him, "with a twenty foot frontage. I should worry about plots."
Harry Donnelle said he guessed maybe it would be better not to have any
plot at all, because a plot would be kind of heavy to carry on a hundred
mile hike.
"Couldn't we carry it in a wheelbarrow?" Will wanted to know.
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