He stood gaping at a little island out in the middle of the stream, which had no more business there than Pee-wee had had to be dozing in the library.
Pee-wee stood stark still in the middle of the field and rubbed his eyes to make sure that he was awake.

There was not the slightest doubt that what he saw was very real.

The river at that point was quite wide and its opposite shore was bordered with sparse woodland.
Pee-wee had bathed and fished and canoed in this neighborhood almost as long as he could remember and he was perfectly certain that there had never been an island there.

He knew an island when he saw one and nothing was more certain than that this one was a stranger in the neighborhood.
Yet it seemed to be perfectly at home out there in the middle of the stream, just as if it had been born there and had grown up there.
There was nothing fugitive looking about it at all.

In the true spirit of the twentieth century, which is all for time saving and convenience, it had voyaged to Pee-wee, thereby saving him the time and perils of an extended cruise.