Pee-Wee Harris on the Trail Part 18

"The other one."

"If they're both the same how can there be another one? I eat them."

"Really?"

"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 cla.s.s scout and I'm a first aid scout and--Do you know how to make things out of peanut sh.e.l.ls?"

"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."

CHAPTER x.x.xIII

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."

"I'll show you how to close it," said Pee-wee.

The one obstacle which might have stood in the way of these delectable plans--school--was removed by the fact that Scout Harris was to enter a private school (pity the poor private school) which did not open until after Columbus Day. We shall see him wished onto this inst.i.tution in a subsequent volume.

The outlandish sweater and rakish cap in which Pee-wee had masqueraded through that eventful night were now discarded by order of his mother, and on the journey to Kidder Lake he appeared a vision of sartorial splendor in his full scout regalia including all appurtenances and sundries.

As a tribute, perhaps, to the island of which he was to be the imperial head, he flaunted his aluminum frying-pan, its handle stuck in his belt, ready to fry an egg at a second's notice in case of emergency. That he might never be at a loss to know where he was at, his scout compa.s.s dangled by a cord tied in a double sheep-shank knot to harmonize with the knot of his scarf which could only be removed by lifting it over his head. Thus, though he might be lost to his comrades, he could never be lost to his scarf.

Twisted into the cord of his scout hat was an arrow pointing forward, which gave him an exceedingly martial appearance and was useful, too, in pointing out the way he should go and safeguarding him from the danger of going backward. But if, by an accident, he _should_ go backward or sideways, he had the empty funnel of an old auto horn with which to magnify his voice and make the forest ring with his sonorous cries for help. And if the help did not come, he had still one cylinder of an old opera gla.s.s, with the lens of which he could ignite a dried leaf by day or observe the guiding stars by night. And if there were no dried leaves he had his crumpled piece of tissue paper. And if the stars did not s.h.i.+ne, he had a rag for extracting confidential information from the wind. And if there was no wind, he should worry, he had gum-drops mobilized in every pocket. Every safety device known to scout science (and many of quite original conception) were upon the martial form of Scout Harris, so that he could not possibly go wrong or starve.

So it was without any fear that he set forth for the untrodden wilds of Frying-pan Island notwithstanding that it was a quarter of a mile wide and nearly a third of a mile long.

CHAPTER x.x.xIV

PEE-WEE HOLDS FORTH

It was a delightful ride to Kidder Lake in the daytime. There is no time like the autumn--except the spring. And the spring is only good because it is the beginning of the summer. Just the same as the winter is best because the spring comes after it. As Roy Blakeley would have said, "You can do that by algebra." But there is nothing, either before or after, to make algebra good.

As Jim Burton's big Packard car sped along, the country looked bleak and the fields wan with their yellow corn-stalks. Even the little shacks where fresh fruit and vegetables had been displayed to motorists were now boarded up. Their cheerless, deserted look contributed quite as much as the changing foliage to the scene of coldness, desolation. The sad look which Nature a.s.sumes when school opens. The wind blew and the leaves fell and the West Ketchem scouts fell too, for Scout Harris, who was also blowing.

"That's what you call a proincidence, how I don't have to go to school yet, the same as you don't on account of yours burning down. Gee whiz, I like camp-fires, but I like school fires better."

"And you'll show us how to make a camp-fire?"

"Sure I will; 111 show you how they do at Temple Camp. Is there anybody living on that island?"

"No one but us, and we'll have to be going home soon," said Charlie Norris.

"I like desert islands best," Pee-wee said; "they remind you of dessert.

Sometimes I spell it that way. Don't you care, we have a month yet. Did you ever eat floating island? It has gobs of icing floating around in it. We have that Sunday nights at Temple Camp. When I said dessert it made me think of it. Sometimes islands disappear."

"I bet the ones in that dessert do all right," laughed Nick Vernon.

"You said it!" Pee-wee vociferated with great emphasis. "I'll show you how to make tracking cakes, too, only you can't eat them."

"No?"

"No-o-o, they're for chipmunks and birds to step on so you can save their footprints. Gee whiz, did you think you could eat them?"

"We didn't know," said Fido Norris.