“I eat mushrooms too, only if they’re toad-stools they kill you.”
“Why don’t you eat a couple?”
“I will not, because you bet I’m going to stay alive. I’ll show you how you can tell the difference when we get to that island. I’ll show you a lot of things. Do you know how to pump water with a newspaper—rolled up? Gee, that’s easy, I learned that when I was a tenderfoot.”
“What are you now, a second hand scout?”
“I’m a first class scout and I’m a first aid scout and—Do you know how to make things out of peanut shells?”
“Will you show us that, too?”
“Sure, but anyway I never use chalk for scout signs; I use charred wood. Do you know why?”
“Because chalk reminds you of school?”
“Because it’s got too much civilization in it.”
“Do they put that in it?”
“No, but it’s there. Gee whiz, I’ve got no use for civilization, I don’t care what kind it is.”
“Well, what about that codger?” asked Scoutmaster Ned. “He said he read the signal?”
“Sure, and he was the one that stopped us when that fellow ran away. Gee whiz, I didn’t see any signal but I didn’t look behind. Maybe he’s just disguised as a rube, hey? Anyway, he stopped us, that’s one sure thing, because we stopped and that proves it, doesn’t it?”
“There’s nothing the matter with the road,” Safety First repeated.
“That’s what has me guessing,” said Scoutmaster Ned. “He couldn’t have read the message, that little codger. He’s just a poor, little country kid. I’d give a doughnut to know how he happened to put that rope across the road. He never, never read that message, you can bet on that.”
“I know! I know!” vociferated Pee-wee. “He had a—a—inspiration. Give me the doughnut.”
HARK! THE CONQUERING HERO COMES BACK
We need not linger in Bridgeboro, the native haunt of Scout Harris, and of Roy Blakeley and his Silver-plated Fox Patrol, and the other celebrities of Pee-wee’s troop. For the adventures of these world heroes may be found recorded by Roy’s own hand.
It will be sufficient to say that the delegation from Kidder Lake descended upon the peaceful home of Pee-wee Harris (peaceful during his absence at all events) and carried it by storm. The anxiety of Mr. and Mrs. Harris over the whereabouts of their son being set at rest by his dramatic appearance at the head of his martial following, there was nothing for them to do but surrender to Scoutmaster Ned, while the party partook of breakfast in the fallen fortress.
“He will eat you out of house and home,” warned Mrs. Harris; “I only want to warn you beforehand.”
“We are prepared for the worst,” said Scoutmaster Ned, as he contemplated his discovery wrestling with a saucer of breakfast food across the table. “In return for our poor hospitality he is going to show us how the world should be run, and we are to be his pupils. Now that we have stumbled upon him we couldn’t close our season without him.”