Pretty soon Bert said, "Here's where you ought to have your scout staff with you," and just then I stumbled down among a lot of brush.
"Now you're in it," he said.
"In what ?" I asked him.
"In the bed," he said.
"You call this a bed ?" I asked him, "I like a brass bed better." "If you'd only had your staff, you could have felt ahead." "I can feel a head now," I told him, "and it's got a good bump on it." "Well," he said, "you're right in the hollow where the old creek used to flow.

Let's push along through it a little ways and see what we can dig up." You couldn't see that it was a hollow just looking at it, but you had to go down into it and then you knew.

It was all grown up with bushes and we just went along through it, the same as if we were pushing through a jungle.

All of a sudden I felt something crunch under my foot, and when I picked it up, I saw it was a fish's backbone.
"See," Bert said, "what did I tell you ?" It seemed funny to be squirming our way along where a creek used to flow before it changed its mind and decided to flow into Bowl Valley.
"Maybe it changed its mind and made the lake because it knew the scouts were coming, hey ?" I asked.

"That was a good turn." "It was a good _long_ turn," he said.