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diff --git a/9833-0.txt b/9833-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..635d73a --- /dev/null +++ b/9833-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4566 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Pee-wee Harris, by Percy Keese Fitzhugh + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll +have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using +this ebook. + + + +Title: Pee-wee Harris + +Author: Percy Keese Fitzhugh + +Illustrator: H. S. Barbour + +Release Date: May 26, 2019 [EBook #9833] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PEE-WEE HARRIS *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and Sue Clark (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: THE ADVERTISING DEPARTMENT OF PEPSY’S REST HAD TWO STEADY +EMPLOYEES.] + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + PEE-WEE HARRIS + + BY + PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH + + Author of + THE TOM SLADE BOOKS + THE ROY BLAKELEY BOOKS + + ILLUSTRATED BY + H. S. BARBOUR + + Published with the approval of + THE BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA + + GROSSET & DUNLAP + PUBLISHERS : : NEW YORK + + Made in the United States of America + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + Copyright, 1922, by + GROSSET & DUNLAP + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + TO THE ONLY ORIGINAL—THE + REAL PEE-WEE HARRIS—THIS + STORY IS DEDICATED. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + FOREWORD + +Hey, listen! + +A lot of scouts said I was put out of the Tom Slade Series and so I had +to go into the Roy Blakeley Series. And a lot of them said I was put out +of the Roy Blakeley Series and that on account of that I started a +series of my own. They said I had to get the author who wrote up Tom +Slade’s adventures to help me. And a lot of them said if I didn’t look +out, I’d be put out of this series, too. + +That shows how much sense they have, because how can a person that’s the +main thing in a thing put himself out of that thing? Anyway, I’d like to +see anybody put me out of this series. If they tried that it would be +the best part of all the stories. + +Maybe when this series is finished I’ll be the only one left in it, but +a lot I care because the fewer fellers there are the more there will be +to eat. Roy Blakeley said if I’m writing a series the most important +thing is to write close to the paper—that shows you how crazy he is. Gee +whiz! He looks like a laughing hyena on the covers of those books he’s +all the time writing. + +Tom Slade isn’t so bad. I like Tom Slade. Only he doesn’t know anything +about girls—that’s one thing—I know all about them. + +Last summer I went down to where my uncle lives and spent vacation there +and I had a peach of a time and all the things I did are told in the +first story, but there are a lot of things left over and I’m going to +tell these in another story. There are snakes and peach orchards and +everything down there. + +Then comes the second story and that’s about a dandy mistake I made. Gee +whiz! I’ve made better mistakes than any feller in our troop. I didn’t +make it on purpose, but anyway it led to a lot of dandy adventures. +That’s one good thing about mistakes, anyway. But one thing sure, if I +had got into the right automobile I would have just gone about two +blocks. So that shows that the wrong one may even be better than the +right one. Only you bet I’m not going to tell you all about that story +here. + +Then comes the third one and that’s the one where I started the Pollywog +Patrol. It didn’t last long, but that’s all right, because pollywogs +don’t last long. It wasn’t a full patrol, except we were full of +dessert—three helpings. If you want plenty of dessert you’d better read +that story. + +After that story comes the fourth one and there’s where I made the +dandiest mistake I ever made. Another feller helped me make it. On +account of that mistake a girl was good and sorry for the way she +treated me and I bet you’d say it served her right. But anyway we’re +good friends now. + +Then comes the fifth story and that’s the craziest one of all because +that’s the story where I didn’t go to a desert island on account of the +desert island coming to me. + +After the fifth one the stories get crazier and crazier. Maybe there’ll +be as many as a hundred because I’ve got lots of paper and a new +fountain pen and I’m having more adventures all the time. I’ve got +ninety-seven of them thought up already—I mean adventures that I really +had. And I’ve got a hundred and fifty-two thought up that I’m going to +have, and that’s not counting one big one that I’ve started on already. +So the only thing that will stop me will be if I don’t have any more +paper, but even then I can go on writing, because scouts can write on +birch bark and you can see for yourself how many birch trees there are. +As long as there are some birch trees left I can keep on writing, so +don’t you worry. + + Pee-wee Harris. + +P. S. Scouts know how to make paper out of leaves, too, so as long as +there are leaves I can keep on writing. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + CONTENTS + + I THE BATTLE OF THE BANANA + II A TRAGIC PREDICAMENT + III AN INVITATION + IV HE GOES TO CONQUER + V ENTER PEPSY + VI THE WAY OF THE SCOUT + VII A BIG IDEA + VIII MAKING PLANS + IX IT PAYS TO ADVERTISE + X DEADWOOD GAMELY TALKS BUSINESS + XI TWO IS A COMPANY—THREE IS BAD LUCK + XII THE ADVERTISING DEPARTMENT + XIII PEPSY’S SECRET + XIV SUSPENSE + XV SIX MERRY MAIDENS + XVI A REVELATION + XVII HARD TIMES + XVIII THE VOICE OF THE TAIL-LIGHT + XIX THE OTHER VOICE + XX AN OFFICIAL REBUKE + XXI SCOUT HARRIS FIXES IT + XXII FATE IS JUST + XXIII WHERE THERE’S A WILL THERE’S A WAY + XXIV PEPSY’S ENTERPRISE + XXV AN ACCIDENT + XXVI PEPSY’S INVESTMENT + XXVII SEEN IN THE DARK + XXVIII STOCK ON HAND + XXIX INDUSTRIAL CONDITIONS + XXX PAID IN FULL + XXXI CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE + XXXII THE CLEW + XXXIII THE TRAMPLED TRAIL + XXXIV THE TRAIL’S END + XXXV EXIT + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + PEE-WEE HARRIS + + + + + CHAPTER I + + THE BATTLE OF THE BANANA + + +Pee-wee Harris, mascot of the Raven Patrol, First Bridgeboro Troop, sat +upon the lowest limb of the tree in front of his home eating a banana. +To maintain his balance it was necessary for him to keep a tight hold +with one hand on a knotty projection of the trunk while with the other +he clutched his luscious refreshment. + +The safety of his small form as he sat on the shaky limb depended upon +his hold of the trunk, while the tremendous responsibility of holding +his banana devolved upon the other hand. + +Pee-wee was so much smaller than he should have been and the banana so +much larger than it should have been that they might almost be said to +have been of the same size. + +The slender limb on which Pee-wee sat trembled and creaked with each +enormous bite that he took. + +The bright morning sunlight, wriggling through the foliage overhead, +picked out the round face and curly hair of our young hero and showed +him in all his pristine glory, frowning a terrible frown, clinging for +dear life with one hand and engaged in his customary occupation of +eating. + +He had ascended to this leafy throne with the banana in his pocket but +he could not restore it to his pocket now even if he wished to. However, +he did not wish to. In a military sense he was in a predicament; both +arms were in bad strategic position and his center exposed to assault. +His leafy throne was like many another throne in these eventful +times—extremely shaky. + +But the commissary department was in fine shape.... + + * * * * * + +Suddenly the expeditionary forces of Uncle Sam appeared in the form of +the postman, who paused on his way across the lawn to the house. + +“Hello, up there,” he said, suddenly discovering Pee-wee. + +“Hello yourself and see how you like it,” the mascot of the Ravens +called down. + +“I saw a banana up there and I thought maybe you were behind it,” the +postman called, as he looked among the pack of letters he held in his +hand. + +“It’s only half a banana,” Pee-wee shouted. + +“Well, you’re only half a scout,” the postman said; “you’d better drop +it, here’s a letter for you.” + +“For me?” + +“For you.” + +Steadying himself, Pee-wee took an enormous bite, considerably reducing +the length of the banana. “Wait a minute till I finish it,” he said as +best he could with his mouth full. “Waaer-mint.” + +“Can’t wait,” the postman said, heartlessly moving away. + +“Waymnt,” Pee-wee yelled, frantically taking another bite; +“wayermntdyehear, waymnt!” + +“Do you think the government can wait for you to finish a banana?” the +postman demanded with a wicked grin upon his face. “You got two hands; +here, take the letter if you want it; here it is,” he added, reaching +up. + +Pee-wee tried to dispatch the remainder of the banana by one gigantic +and triumphant bite but the desperate expedient did not work; his mouth +with all its long practice, could not keep up with his hand; it became +clogged while yet a considerable length of banana projected out of the +gracefully drooping rind. + +“Here, take it,” the postman said in a tone of ruthless finality. + +Chewing frantically and waving the remainder of banana menacingly like a +club, the baffled hero uttered some incomprehensible, imploring jumble +of suffocated words while the postman moved away a step or two, +repressing a fiendish smile. + +“Throw away the banana,” he said. + +By this time Pee-wee was able to speak and while his chewing apparatus +was momentarily disengaged he demanded to know if the postman thought he +was crazy. The postman, resolved not to miss the fun of the situation, +was not going to let Pee-wee take another bite; time was precious, and +two more bites of the sort that Pee-wee took might leave his hand free. + +“Take the letter,” he said with an air of cold determination, “or I’ll +leave it at the house. Here, take it quick; I’ve no time to waste.” + +“Do you want me to waste a banana,” Pee-wee yelled imploringly; “a scout +is supposed—” + +“Here, take it,” the postman said. + +There followed the most terrible moment in the life of Pee-wee Harris, +Scout. He knew that one more bite would be fatal, that the postman would +not wait. In two bites, or in three at most, he could finish the banana +and his hand would be free. + +How could a postman, who brings joy to the lonely, words of love from +far away, cheer to those who wait, comfort from across the seas, _Boys’ +Life Magazine_—how could such a being be so relentless and cruel? If +that letter were left at the house, Pee-wee would have to go to the +house and get it, and there his mother was lying in ambush waiting to +pounce upon him and make him mow the lawn. Why would not the postman +wait for just two bites? Maybe he could do it in one. He had consumed a +peach in one bite and a ham sandwich in four—his star record. + +He made a movement with his hand, and simultaneously the postman +retreated a step or two toward the house. Pee-wee tried releasing his +hold upon the trunk with the other hand and almost lost his balance on +the shaky limb. + +“Here,” said the postman, unyielding, “chuck the banana and take the +letter or you’ll find it waiting for you in the front hall. It’s an +important letter, it feels as if it had a couple of cookies in it.” The +postman knew Pee-wee. “Here you go,” the torturer said grimly, “take it +or not, suit yourself.” + +“Can’t you see both hands are busy?” the victim pled. “Two bites—a scout +is supposed not to waste anything—he’s supposed—he’s supposed—_wait_ a +minute—he’s supposed if he starts a thing to finish it—_wait!_ I’m not +going to take a bite, I’m only giving you an argument—can’t you wait—” + +“Here you go, last chance, take it,” the postman said, a faint smile +hovering at the corner of his mouth, “one, two, —” + +Out of Pee-wee’s wrath and anguish came an inspiration. “Stick the +letter in the banana,” he said, holding the banana down. + +“I don’t know about that,” the postman said, ruefully. + +“I know about it,” Pee-wee thundered down at him. “You said I had to +take it or not; that letter belongs to me and you have to deliver it. +This banana, it’s—it’s the same as a mail box—you stick the letter in +the banana. You think you’re so smart, you thought you’d make me throw +away the banana, _naaah_, didn’t you? I wouldn’t do that, not even +for—for—secretary—for the postmaster-general, I wouldn’t! A scout has +resource.” + +“All right, you win,” said the postman, good-humoredly, “only look out +you don’t fall; here you go, hold on tight.” + +Clutching to the knotty projection of trunk, Pee-wee reached the other +hand as low as he could and the postman, smiling, stuck the corner of +the coveted letter into the mealy substance of the banana. + +“You win,” the postman repeated laughingly; “it shows what Scout Harris +can do with food.” + +“Food will win the war,” Pee-wee shouted. “You thought you could make me +throw away my banana but you couldn’t. I knew a man that died from not +eating a banana, I did.” + +“Explain all that,” the postman said. + +“He threw a banana away on his porch instead of eating it and later he +stepped on it and slid down the steps and broke his leg and they took +him to the hospital and compilations set in and he got pneumonia and +died from not eating that banana. So there!” + +“That’s a very fine argument,” the postman said as he went away. + +“I know better ones than that!” Pee-wee shouted after him. + + + + + CHAPTER II + + A TRAGIC PREDICAMENT + + +So there he sat upon his precarious perch trying to reassume the posture +which insured a good balance, clinging to the trunk with one hand and to +the banana with the other. + +And now that the encounter which had almost resulted in a tragic +sacrifice was over, and while our scout hero pauses triumphant, it may +be fitting to apologize to the reader for introducing our hero in the +act of eating. But indeed it was a question of introducing him in the +act of eating or of not introducing him at all. + +For a story of Pee-wee Harris is necessarily more or less a story of +food. And this is a story abounding in cake and pie and waffles and +crullers and cookies and hot frankfurters. There will be found in it +also ice cream cones and jawbreakers and cocoanut bars and potatoes +roasted on sticks. Heroes of stories may have starved on desert islands +but there is to be none of that here. + +In this tale, if you follow the adventures of our scout hero (who now at +last appears before you as a star), you shall find lemonade side by side +with first aid, and all the characters shall receive their just +desserts, some of them (not to mention any names) two helpings. + +So there he sat upon the branch, the mascot of the Raven Patrol, with an +interior like the Mammoth Cave and a voice like the whisperings of the +battle zone in France. Take a good look at him while he is quiet for ten +seconds hand running. Everything about him is tremendous—except his +size. He is built to withstand banter, ridicule and jollying; his sturdy +nature is guaranteed proof against the battering assaults of unholy +mirth from other scouts; his round face and curly hair are the delight +of the girls of Bridgeboro; his loyalty is as the mighty rock of +Gibraltar. A bully little scout he is—a sort of human Ford. + +The question of removing the letter from the banana and getting rid of +the banana (in the proper way) now presented itself to him. He took a +bite of the banana and the letter almost fell. He then tried releasing +his hold upon the trunk but that would not do. He then extracted the +letter with his teeth which effectually prevented him from eating the +banana. + +What to do? + +Steadying himself with one hand (he could not let go the trunk for so +much as a moment), he brought the banana to his lips, held it between +his teeth and took the letter in his unoccupied hand. As he bit into the +banana the part remaining trembled and hung as on a thread; another +moment and it would drop. The predicament was tragic. Slowly, but surely +and steadily, the remainder of the banana broke away and _fell_—into the +hand that held the letter. + +Holding both letter and banana in the one perspiring palm, Pee-wee +devoured first the one and then the other. Both were delicious, the +letter particularly. It had one advantage over the banana, for he could +only devour the banana once, whereas he devoured the contents of the +letter several times. He wished that bananas and doughnuts were like +letters.... + + + + + CHAPTER III + + AN INVITATION + + +The envelope was postmarked Everdoze which, with its one thousand two +hundred and fifty-seven inhabitants, was the cosmopolitan center of Long +Valley which ran (if anything in that neighborhood could be said to run) +from Baxter City down below the vicinity of the bridge on the highway. + +That is, Long Valley bordered the highway on its western side for a +distance of about ten miles. The valley was, roughly speaking, a couple +of miles wide, very deep in places, and thickly wooded. It was +altogether a very sequestered and romantic region. Through it, +paralleling the highway, was a road, consisting mostly of two wagon ruts +with a strip of grass and weeds between them. To traverse Long Valley +one turned into this road where it left the highway at Baxters, and in +the course of time the wayfarer would emerge out of this dim tract into +the light of day where the unfrequented road came into the highway again +below the bridge. + +About midway of this lonely road was Everdoze, and in a pleasant +old-fashioned white house in Everdoze lived Ebenezer Quig who once upon +a time had married Pee-wee’s Aunt Jamsiah. Pee-wee remembered his Aunt +Jamsiah when she had come to make a visit in Bridgeboro and, though he +had never seen her since, he had always borne her tenderly in mind +because as a little (a _very_ little) boy her name had always reminded +him of jam. The letter, as has been said, bore the postmark of Everdoze +and had been stamped by the very hand of Simeon Drowser, the local +postmaster. + +This is what the letter said: + + Dear Walter: + + Your uncle has been pestering me to write to you but Pepsy has + been using the pen for her school exercise and I couldn’t get hold + of it till to-day when she went away with Wiggle, perch fishing. + Licorice Stick says they’re running in the brook most wonderful + but you can’t believe half what he says. Seems as if the perch + know when school closes, leastways that’s what your uncle says. + + Pee-wee reread these enchanting words. Pepsy! Wiggle! Perch + fishing! Licorice Stick! And school closing! And perch that knew + about it. That was the sort of perch for Pee-wee. He read on: + + I told your uncle I reckoned you wouldn’t care to come here being + you live in such a lively place but he said this summer you would + like to come for there will be plenty for you to do because there + is going to be a spelling match in the town hall and an Uncle + Tom’s Cabin show in August. + + You can have plenty of milk and fresh eggs and Miss Arabella + Bellison who has the school is staying this summer and she will + let you in the school-house where there is a library of more than + forty books but some of the pages are gone Pepsy says. She says to + tell you she will show you where she cut her initials but I tell + her not to put such ideas in your head and she knows how to climb + in even if the door is locked, such goings on as she and Wiggle + have, they will be the death of me. + + Well, Walter, you will be welcome if you can come and spend the + summer with us. I suppose you’re a great big boy by now; your + mother was always tall for her age. There are boys here who would + like to be scout boys and your uncle says you can teach them. We + will do all we can so that you have a pleasant summer if you come + and tell your mother we will be real glad to see you and will take + good care of you. + + I can’t write more now because I am putting up preserves, one + hundred jars already. The apples will be rotting on the trees, + it’s a shame. You will think we are very old-fashioned, I’m + afraid. + +Pee-wee paused and smacked his lips and nearly fell backward off the +limb. One hundred jars of preserves and more coming! Apples rotting on +the trees! All that remained to complete his happiness was a bush laden +with ice cream cones growing wild. He read the concluding sentences: + + Your uncle would be glad to go and bring you in the buckboard but + it would take very long and he is busy haying so if you don’t mind + the bad road it would be better for your father to send you in the + automobile. Be sure to turn off the highway to the right just + above Baxters. The road goes through the woods. + + Your loving + Aunt Jamsiah. + +Steadying himself with one hand, Pee-wee took the letter between his +teeth as if he were about to eat it. Then he cautiously let himself down +so that he hung by his knees, then clutched the limb with his hands, +hung for a moment with his legs dangling, and let go. In one sense he +was upon earth but in another sense he was walking on air.... + + + + + CHAPTER IV + + HE GOES TO CONQUER + + +Thus it befell that on the second day after the receipt of this letter +Pee-wee Harris was sitting beside Charlie, the chauffeur, in the fine +sedan car belonging to Doctor Harris, advancing against poor, helpless +Everdoze. + +He traveled in all the martial splendor of his full scout regalia, his +duffel bag stuffed to capacity with his aluminum cooking set and two +extra scout suits. His diminutive but compact and sturdy little form was +decorated with his scout jack-knife hanging from his belt, his compass +dangling from his neck, and his belt ax dragging down his belt in back. + +A suggestive little dash of the culinary phase of scouting was to be +seen in a small saucepan stuck in his belt like a deadly dagger. Thus if +danger came he might confront his enemy with a sample of scout cookery +and kill him on the spot. + +His sleeves were bedecked with merit badges; from the end of his scout +staff waved the flaunting emblem of the Raven Patrol; his stalking +camera was swung over his shoulder like a knapsack; his nickel-plated +scout whistle jangled against the saucepan; and in his trousers pockets +were a magnifying glass, three jawbreakers, a chocolate bar, a few +inches of electric wiring, and a rubber balloon in a state of collapse. + +The highway from Bridgeboro was a broad, smooth road, a temptation and a +delight to speeders, where motorcycle cops lurked in the bushes hardly +waiting for cars with New York licenses. + +It was late in the afternoon when they reached Baxter City and here they +turned into such a road as Charlie vowed he had never seen before. +Scarcely had they gone a mile over rocks and ruts when the dim woods +closed in on either side, imparting a strange coolness. It was almost +like going through a leafy tunnel. Projecting branches brushed the top +of the car and mischievously grazed and tickled their faces. The voices +of the birds, clear in the stillness, seemed to complain at this +intrusion into their domain. + +“I’d like to know how I’m going to get back through this jungle after +dark,” Charlie said. “I wonder what anybody wanted to start a village +down here for?” + +“Maybe—maybe they did it kind of absent-mindedly,” Pee-wee said. “I +never started a village so I don’t know.” + +“Well, you’ll _startle_ one anyway,” Charlie said. “I guess the village +isn’t much bigger than you are.” + +The road took them southward through the valley. They were not far west +of the highway but the low country and the thick woods obscured it from +view. They could hear the tooting of auto horns over that way and +sometimes human voices sounding strange across the intervening solitude. + +“I don’t see why they didn’t set the village down over at the highway; +it’s not more than a mile or so,” Charlie said. “Maybe they were afraid +the autos would run over it; safety first, hey? Nobody’ll run over it +here, that’s one sure thing.” + +Pee-wee took the last bite of a hot frankfurter he had bought at a +roadside shack on the highway and was now more free to talk. + +“Listen,” he said, “what’s that?” + +It was a distant rattling sound which began suddenly and ended suddenly. +They both listened. + +“There must be a bridge up there along the highway,” Charlie said; +“that’s the sound of cars going over it. Loose planking, hey?” + +Pee-wee listened to the rattling of the loose planks as another car sped +over the unseen structure, little dreaming of the part that bridge was +destined to play in his young life. The commonplace noise of the +neglected flooring seemed emphasized by the quiet of the woodland. That +reminder of human traffic, so near and yet so far and out of tune with +all the gentler sounds of the valley, presented a strange contrast and +jarred even Pee-wee’s stout nerves. + +“There goes another,” Charlie said; “we must be nearer to the highway +than I thought.” + +They had, indeed, inscribed a kind of loop and having passed its +farthest point from the main road were traveling toward it again and +would have emerged upon it just beyond the bridge but for the wood +embowered and sequestered village which was their destination. The first +sign of this village was a cow standing in the middle of the grass-grown +road as if to challenge their approach. Perhaps she was stationed there +as a sort of traffic cop.... + + + + + CHAPTER V + + ENTER PEPSY + + +It will be seen by a glance at the accompanying sketch that the village +of Everdoze was about opposite the bridge on the highway. From this main +road the village could be reached by a trail through the woods. On +hearing of this, Charlie expressed regret that he had not allowed his +passenger to make the final stage of the journey on foot. + +“Well, I _never_ in all my _life_!” said Aunt Jamsiah as Pee-wee stepped +out of the car. “In goodness’ name, where’s the rest of you? I thought +you were a great, tall, strapping boy. I hope your appetite’s bigger +than your body. And what on earth is that saucepan for? Are you going to +cook us all alive? Did you ever _see_ such a thing!” she added, speaking +to Uncle Ebenezer who had stepped forward to welcome his nephew. + +“He’s all decked out like a carnival! He’s just too killing!” She then +proceeded to embrace him while his martial paraphernalia clanked and +rattled. + +“We won’t need any more brass band,” said a young girl in a gingham +apron and with brick red hair in long tightly woven braids, who stood +close by; “he’s a _melodeon_. I don’t see what they sent such a big car +for with such a little boy. ’Taint no fit, it ain’t.” + +Pee-wee gave this girl a withering look which she boldly returned, +continuing to stare at him. Her face was covered with freckles and she +was so unqualifiedly plain and homely in face and attire that she might +be said to have been attractive on the ground of novelty. + +“Pepsy,” said Mrs. Quig, addressing her, “you shake hands with Walter +and tell him you and he are going to be good friends. You come right +here and do as I say now and no more of those looks.” + +“I ain’t going to kiss him,” the girl said by way of compromising. + +“You give him a welcome just like Wiggle is doing,” said Aunt Jamsiah, +“and be ashamed that you have to learn your manners from such as he. You +do as I say now.” + +“You’re welcome—and I can beat you running,” the girl said. + +“Girls are afraid of snakes,” Pee-wee retorted. Meanwhile the individual +who had been cited as a model of social correctness by Aunt Jamsiah +stood upon the doorstep looking eagerly up into Pee-wee’s face and +wagging his tail with vigorous and lightning rapidity. Wiggle’s tail was +easily the fastest thing in Everdoze. His head vibrated in unison with +it and his look of intentness carried with it all sorts of friendly +expectations. He fairly shook with excitement and cordiality. He +followed the sedan car a few yards upon its homeward journey and then, +by a sudden impulse, deserted it and returned to a position directly in +front of Pee-wee with wagging tail and questioning gaze. Pie seemed to +say, “I’m ready for anything, the sky is the limit.” + +“You haven’t had a bite to eat since breakfast and you’re _starving_. I +can _tell_ it,” said Aunt Jamsiah. “You come right in the kitchen.” + +“I had a lot of frankfurters and things at the places along the +highway,” Pee-wee said. “I had waffles at one place. I bet they make a +lot of money along that road selling things. There are shacks all the +way. All the autoists stop and buy things to eat. You can get tires and +everything.” + +“Oh, I wouldn’t want to eat tires,” said Pepsy. + +“You think you’re smart, don’t you?” Pee-wee said. + +“What are your soldier clothes for?” the girl wanted to know. + +“They’re not soldier clothes,” Pee-wee said; “I’m a scout.” + +“I bet you don’t know as much as Miss Bellison does.” + +“I bet I don’t either,” Pee-wee said, “so I win.” + +“She’s the school teacher here and she knows everything.” + +“Did she know I was coming?” + +“No, she didn’t and—” + +“Then she doesn’t know everything,” Pee-wee said. + +“Smarty, smarty!” the girl retorted, “I came out of an orphan home and +that’s more than you can say.” + +“You only get one helping of dessert there,” said Pee-wee. “I’d rather +be a scout than an orphan. I know a feller who was an orphan and he was +sorry for it afterwards.” + +“Are you going to stay all summer?” + +“Till school opens,” Pee-wee said. + +“Do you want me to show you where there’s a woodchuck hole?” + +At this point Pee-wee was summoned again to the kitchen where he ate a +sumptuous repast, after which Pepsy and Wiggle took him about and showed +him the farm. + +Pee-wee and Pepsy fenced a good deal but seemed to progress in this +cautious and defensive way toward a friendly understanding. As for +Wiggle he danced about, following elusive scents that led nowhere, +carried off and back again by quick impulse, till at last the three +ended their tour of inspection at a little summer house which had been +built over a spring by the roadside. Here they drank of the bubbling, +crystal water, Wiggle doing this as everything else, with erratic +impulse, drinking a dozen times and not much at any time. + +The dying sunlight painted the slopes of the valley with crimson tints +and the countryside was very still. Through the woods to the west could +be heard occasionally the discordant noise from the loose flooring of +the bridge on the highway as an auto sped over it. In the quiet evening +the sound, with its sudden start, its rattling clamor and its quick +cessation, made a jarring note in all the surrounding peacefulness. + +“That’s what wakes me up in the morning, the mail wagon going over,” +Pepsy said; “I know it’s time to get up then. Those planks can talk, +they say the same thing every day. + + You have to go back, + You have to go back, + You have to go back. + +You listen to-morrow morning.” + +“They could never wake _me_ up,” Pee-wee said, which was probably true. +“What do you mean about their saying you have to go back?” + +“When Aunt Jamsiah took me, I was a probator. Do you know what that +means?” + +“It’s what they do with people’s wills,” Pee-wee said. + +“It means if I don’t behave I have to go back to the orphan home,” the +girl said. “And every day I was afraid I’d have to go back—for a long, +long time, I was. And when I was lying in bed mornings I’d hear the +planks saying that— + + You have to go back, + You have to go back. + +just like that, and I’d get good and scared.” + +“You won’t have to go back,” said Pee-wee. “You leave it to me, I’ll fix +it. Those planks—I’ve known lots of planks—and they can’t tell the +truth. Don’t you care. I wouldn’t believe what an old plank said. Trees +are all right, but planks—” + +“I don’t notice it so much now,” Pepsy said; “that was a year ago and +Aunt Jamsiah says I’m all right and mind good except I’m a tomboy. That +ain’t so bad, is it? Being a tomboy? A girl and me tried to set the +orphan home on fire because they licked us, but I’m good here. But I +wish they’d put a new floor on that bridge. Anyway, Aunt Jamsiah says +I’m good now.” Pee-wee was about to speak, but noticing that the girl’s +eyes were fixed upon a crimson patch on the hillside where the sun was +going down, and seeing that her eyes sparkled strangely (for indeed they +were not pretty eyes) he said nothing, like the bully little scout that +he was. + +“Anyway, one thing, I wouldn’t let an old bridge get my goat, I +wouldn’t,” he said finally, “and besides, you said you would show me a +woodchuck hole.” + + + + + CHAPTER VI + + THE WAY OF THE SCOUT + + +Pepsy’s right name was Penelope Pepperall and Aunt Jamsiah had taken her +out of the County Home after the fire episode, by way of saving her from +the worse influence of a reformatory. She and Uncle Ebenezer had agreed +to be responsible for the girl, and Pepsy had spent a year of joyous +freedom at the farm marred only by the threat hanging over her that she +would be restored to the authorities upon the least suspicion of +misconduct. + +She had done her work faithfully and become a help and a comfort to her +benefactors. She had a snappy temper and a sharp tongue and was, indeed, +something of a tomboy. But Aunt Jamsiah, though often annoyed and +sometimes chagrined, took a charitable view of these shortcomings and +her generous heart was not likely to confound them with genuine +misdoing. + +So the stern condition of Pepsy’s freedom had become something of a dead +letter, except in her own fearful fancy, and particularly when that +discordant voice of the bridge spoke ominously of her peril. + +Pepsy had been trusted and had proven worthy of the trust. She had never +known any mother or father, nor any home save the institution from which +Aunt Jamsiah had rescued her, and she had grown to love her kindly +guardians and the old farm where she had much work but also much +freedom. “Chores will keep her out of mischief,” Aunt Jamsiah had said. + +Wiggle’s ancestry and social standing were quite as much a mystery as +Pepsy’s; he was not an aristocrat, that is certain, and having no +particular chores to do was free to devote his undivided time to +mischief; he concentrated on it, as the saying is, and thereby +accomplished wonders. He was Pepsy’s steady comrade and the partner of +all her adventurous escapades. + +Pepsy was not romantic and imaginative; her freckled face and tightly +braided red hair and thin legs with wrinkled cotton stockings, protested +against that. She had a simple mind with a touch of superstition. It was +a kind of morbid dread of the institution she had left which had +conjured that ramshackle old bridge up on the highway into an ominous +voice of warning. She hated the bridge and dreaded it as a thing +haunted. + +Pee-wee soon became close friends with these two, and from a rather +cautious and defensive beginning Pepsy soon fell victim to the spell of +the little scout, as indeed every one else did. Pepsy did not surrender +without a struggle. She showed Pee-wee the woodchuck hole and Pee-wee, +after a minute’s skillful search, showed her the other hole, or back +entrance, under a stone wall. + +“There are always two,” he told her, “and one of them is usually under a +stone wall. They’re smart, woodchucks are.” + +“Are they as smart as you?” she wanted to know. + +“Smarter,” Pee-wee admitted, generously; “they’re smarter than skunks +and even skunks are smarter than I am.” + +“I like you better than skunks,” she said. Wiggle seemed to be of the +same opinion. “I like all the scouts on account of you,” she said. + +No one could be long in Pee-wee’s company without hearing about the +scouts; he was a walking (or rather a running and jumping) advertisement +of the organization. He told Pepsy about tracking and stalking and +signaling and the miracles of cookery which his friend Roy Blakeley had +performed. + +“Can he cook better than you?” Pepsy wanted to know, a bit dubiously. + +“Yes, but I can eat more than he can,” Pee-wee said. And that seemed to +relieve her. + +“I can make a locust come to me,” he added, and suiting the action to +the word he emitted a buzzing sound which brought a poor deluded locust +to his very hand. At such wonder-working she could only gape and stare. +Wiggle appeared to claim the locust as a souvenir of the scout’s magic. + +“You let it go, Wiggle,” Pee-wee said. “If you want to be a scout you +can’t kill anything that doesn’t do any harm. But you can kill snakes +and mosquitoes if you want to.” Evidently it was the dream of Wiggle’s +life to be a scout for he released the locust to Pee-wee, wagging his +tail frantically. + +“You have to be loyal, too,” the young propagandist said; “that’s a +rule. You have to be helpful and think up ways to help people. No matter +what happens you have to be loyal.” + +“Do you have to be loyal to orphan homes?” Pepsy wanted to know. “If +they lick you do you have to be loyal to them?” + +Here was a poser for the scout. But being small Pee-wee was able to +wriggle out of almost anything. “You have to be loyal where loyalty is +due,” he said. “That’s what the rule says; it’s Rule Two. But, anyway, +there’s another rule and that’s Rule Seven and it says you have to be +kind. You can’t be kind licking people, that’s one sure thing. So it’s a +teckinality that you don’t have to be loyal to an orphan home. You can +ask any lawyer because that’s what you call logic.” + +“Deadwood Gamely’s father is a lawyer,” Pepsy said, “and I _hate_ +Deadwood Gamely and I wouldn’t go to his house to ask his father. He’s a +smarty and I hit him with a tomato. Have I got a right to do that—if +he’s a smarty?” + +Here was another legal technicality, but Pee-wee was equal to the +occasion. “A—a scout has to be a—he has to have a good aim,” he said. + + + + + CHAPTER VII + + A BIG IDEA + + +They had been driving the cows home during this learned exposition on +scouting. Two things were now perfectly clear to Pepsy’s simple mind. +One, that she would be loyal at any cost, loyal to her new friend, and +through him to all the scouts. She knew them only through him. They were +a race of wonder-workers away off in the surging metropolis of +Bridgeboro. She could not aspire to be one of them, but she could be +loyal, she could “stick up” for them. + +The other matter which was now settled, once and for all, was that it +was all right to throw a tomato at a person you hated provided only that +you hit the mark. Aunt Jamsiah had been all wrong in her anger at that +exploit which had stirred the village. For to throw a tomato at the son +of Lawyer Gamely was aiming very high. + +The son of Lawyer Gamely had a Ford and worked in the bank at Baxter +City and was a mighty sport who wore white collars and red ties and said +that “Everdoze was asleep and didn’t have brains enough to lie down,” +and all such stuff. + +Pee-wee let down the bars while the patient cows waited, and Scout +Wiggle (knowing that a scout should be helpful) gave the last cow a snip +on the leg to help her along. + +Here, at these rustic bars, ended Pepsy’s chores for the day and in the +delightful interval before supper she and Pee-wee lolled in the +wellhouse by the roadside. Wiggle, with characteristic indecision, +chased the cows a few yards, returned to his companions, darted off to +chase the cows again, deserted that pastime with erratic suddenness, and +returned again wagging his tail and looking up intently as if to ask, +“What next?” Then he lay down panting. Mr. Ellsworth, Pee-wee’s +scoutmaster, would have said that Wiggle lacked method.... + +“If I had a lot of money,” Pepsy said, “you could teach me all the +things that scouts know and I’d pay you ever so much. Once I had forty +cents but I spent it at the Mammoth Carnival. I paid ten cents to throw +six balls so I could get a funny doll and I never hit the doll and when +I only had ten cents left I made believe the doll was Deadwood Gamely +and I hated and _hated_ with all my might while I threw the ball the +last six times but I couldn’t hit the doll.” + +“You can’t aim so good when you’re mad,” Pee-wee said, “so if you want +to hit somebody with a tomato or an egg or anything like that you must +have kind thoughts about the person that you’re aiming at, only you’re +not supposed to throw tomatoes and eggs and things because you can have +more fun eating them. I wouldn’t waste a tomato on that feller because +anyway you’ve got your tongue.” + +“You can’t sass him,” said Pepsy, “because he uses big words and he’s +such a smarty and he makes you feel silly and then you begin to cry and +get mad. When he says I’m an orphan and things—and things—Wiggle hates +him, too, don’t you, Wiggle?” The girl was almost crying then and +Pee-wee comforted her. + +“Do you think I don’t know any long words?” he said. “I know some of the +longest words that were ever invented and—and—even I can make special +ones myself. Once I—don’t you cry—once I was kept in in school and Julia +Carson was kept in too, because she wriggled in her seat—you know how +girls do. I had to choose a word and write it a hundred times and I +didn’t want to get through too soon, because I wanted to get out the +same time she did. So I chose the word incomprehensibility, and I—” + +“Is that girl pretty?” Pepsy wanted to know. “She’s got a wart on her +finger. It’s the best one I ever saw,” Pee-wee said. “She’s afraid to +get in a boat, that girl is.” + +“I hate her,” Pepsy said. + +“What for?” Pee-wee inquired. “Because she has a wart? Don’t you know +it’s good luck to have warts?” + +“Because—because she was bad and had to stay after school,” Pepsy said. + +“That shows how much you know about logic,” Pee-wee said, “because I had +to stay too and I was worse than she was. So there.” + +“_I_ wouldn’t be afraid to get in a boat,” Pepsy said proudly. + +“I never said she was like you,” Pee-wee declared. “She’s not a tomboy.” + +Pepsy seemed comforted. + +“You leave that feller to me,” Pee-wee said. “I can handle Roy Blakeley +and all his patrol and they’re a lot of jolliers—they think they’re so +smart.” + +“I like you better than all of them,” Pepsy said. “Sometimes I’m kept +after school too, you can ask Miss Bellison.” + +“One thing sure, I like you well enough to be partners with you,” +Pee-wee said. “Do you want me to tell you something? I thought of a way +to make a lot of money, and if I do I’m going to buy three new tents for +our troop. Do you want to go partners with me? We’ll say the tents are +from both of us and we’ll have a lot of fun.” + +“I had a dollar once and I sent it to the heathens,” Pepsy said, “and +I’d rather help you than the heathens, because I like you better.” + +“Heathens are all right,” Pee-wee said, “and I’m not saying anything +against heathens, especially wild ones, but we’re just as wild. You +ought to go to Temple Camp and see how wild we are.” + +He did not look very wild as he sat upon the narrow seat with his knees +drawn up and his scout hat on the back of his head showing his curly +hair. The girl gazed at his natty khaki attire, the row of merit badges +on his sleeve, the trophies of his heroic triumphs. She was not the +first to feel the lure of a uniform. But it was the first uniform she +had ever seen at close range, for in the wartime she had been in that +frowning brick structure which still haunted her. + +“I’ll help you because you can do everything and you know a lot,” she +said. + +In the fullness of her generosity and loyalty to Pee-wee’s prowess she +never reminded him or even thought of the things she could do which he +could not. She would not do her little optional chore of milking a cow +for fear he might perceive her superiority in this little item of +proficiency. Poor girl, she was a better scout than she knew. + +“If you think it up I’ll do all the work, and then we’ll be even,” she +said. + +So Pee-wee told her of the colossal scheme which his lively imagination +had conceived. + +“It all started with a hot frankfurter,” he said. “If I hadn’t bought a +hot frankfurter I wouldn’t have thought of it. So that shows you how +important a frankfurter is—kind of. Maybe a person might get to be a +millionaire just starting with a frankfurter, you never can tell....” + + + + + CHAPTER VIII + + MAKING PLANS + + +“I bought that frankfurter at a shack up on the highway and while I was +eating it I just happened to think that as long as there’s lots of fruit +and things here and as long as you know how to make fudge, we’d start a +shack right here in this wellhouse and sell lemonade and fruit and fudge +and cookies and things, and if we make lots of money I’d go up to Baxter +City and buy some auto accessories like spark plugs and tire tape and +things and we’d sell those, too. We’d put signs on the trees along the +road telling people to stop here and I know how to make up signs so as +to get people good and hungry. You have them say that things are _hot in +the pan_ and you have to have drinks with names like _arctic_ and all +like that. I know how to make them hungry and thirsty and I’ve got a +balloon that I can blow up—see? And we’d print something on it and tie +it to Wiggle’s tail and make him walk up and down the road. What do you +say? Isn’t it a peachy scheme? Will you help me?” + +No dream of Pee-wee’s could be impossible of fulfillment. With him, to +try was to succeed, according to Pepsy’s simple and unbounded faith. The +plan _must_ be all right, and wondrous in its possibilities. It was an +inspiration—born of a frankfurter. It was not for poor Pepsy to take +issue with this master mind. + +Yet she did venture to say, “Not very many autos come down here, only a +few that go through to Berryville. Licorice Stick—” + +“That’s a dandy name,” Pee-wee said. + +“He goes by a dozen times a day, but he hasn’t got any money, and Mr. +Flint goes by but he’s a miser and Doctor Killem goes by in his buggy +and he says people eat too much—” + +“He’s crazy!” Pee-wee shouted. + +“And that’s everybody that goes by except a few when they have the town +fair in Berryville.” + +For a moment Pee-wee paused, balked but not beaten. “There’s going to be +an Uncle Tom’s Cabin show in Berryville,” he said, “and the town fair, +that’s two things. Let’s start in and maybe later there’ll be some +summer boarders in Berryville. We’ll have waffles—I can make those. And +we’ll have lemonade and fruit and all kinds of things and when you’re +doing your chores I’ll tend counter. We’ll make a lot of money, you see +if we don’t.” + +In her generous confidence, Pepsy was quite carried away by Pee-wee’s +enthusiasm. She knew (who better than she?) that strangers never came +along that lonely by-road. But she believed that somehow they _would_ +come when the scout waved his magic wand. + +“And I’ll make cookies,” she said, “and all the things to eat and you +can print the signs—” + +“And shout to the people going by,” Pee-wee concluded enthusiastically. +“You have to yell ALL HOT! THEY’RE ALL HOT! Just like that.” + +Few could resist this, Pepsy least of all. “Let’s go and ask Aunt +Jamsiah about it right now,” she said. + +“Let _me_ do it, I know how to handle her,” said Pee-wee. + +And Pepsy deferred to the master mind, as usual.... + + + + + CHAPTER IX + + IT PAYS TO ADVERTISE + + +Permission to use the wellhouse once secured, preparations for the vast +enterprise progressed rapidly. The very next day, while Pepsy was at her +chores, Pee-wee built a counter in the shack and sitting at this he +printed signs to be displayed along the woody approaches to this +mouth-watering dispensary. + +Neither the gloomy predictions of his uncle nor the laughing skepticism +of his aunt dimmed his enterprising ardor. The signs which he printed +with his uncle’s crate stencil, procured from the barn, bespoke the +variety of tempting offerings which existed so far only in his fertile +mind. + +He was somewhat handicapped in the preparation of these signs by the +largeness of the perforated letters of the stencil and the limited size +of the cards. He had preferred cards to paper because they would not +blow and tear and Aunt Jamsiah had given him a pile of these, uniform in +size, on one side of which had been printed election notices of the +previous year. It was impossible, therefore, for Pee-wee to include all +of each tempting announcement on one card, so he used two cards for each +reminder to the public. Thus on one card he printed FRANKFURTERS and on +its mate intended for posting just below, the palate-tickling +conclusion, SIZZLING HOT. + + FRANKFURTERS + SIZZLING HOT ⇾ + +This is how the sign would appear upon some fence or tree. It would be a +knockout blow to any hungry wayfarer. + +Another two-card sign, intended for warmer weather, read: + + ICE CREAM + ⇽ COLD AND COOLING + +Other signs originating in Pee-wee’s fertile mind and covering the range +of food and drink and auto accessories were these: + + PEANUT TAFFY + SWEET AND DELICIOUS ⇾ + + OUR TIRE TAPE + ⇽ STICKS LIKE GLUE + + NON SKID + CHAINS ⇾ + + FRESH + ⇽ BANANAS + + DRINK + SWEET CIDER ⇾ + + MAGIC + ⇽ CARBON REMOVER + +There were many others, enough to decorate the road for miles in both +directions. If Pepsy as chef could live up to Pee-wee’s promises the +neighborhood would soon become famous. That was her one forlorn hope, +that the fame of their offerings would get abroad and lure the traffic +from its wonted path. But Pee-wee’s enthusiasm and energy carried all +before them like a storming column and she was soon as hopeful and +confident as he. + +When her chores were finished that afternoon she hurried to their +refreshment parlor, where Pee-wee sat behind the new counter like a +stern schoolmaster, cards strewn about him, his round face black with +stencil ink, still turning out advertising bait for the public. + +“I don’t care what they say,” she panted; “we’re going to make a lot of +money and buy the tents. I tripped on the third step in the house just +now and that means surely we’ll have good luck and I can help just as +much as if I was a really truly scout, can’t I? Aunt Jamsiah says if I +make a lot of doughnuts you’ll just eat them all and there won’t be any +to sell. We mustn’t eat the things ourselves, must we?” + +“That shows how much she knows,” Pee-wee said; “we might have to do that +to make the people hungry. If they see me eating a doughnut and looking +very happy, won’t that make them want to buy some? We have upkeep +expenses, don’t we?” + +“Yes, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell her that,” Pepsy said, “but I never +thought of it. You always think of things. I’m going to wash the ink off +your face, so hold still.” + +She dipped her gingham apron under the trap-door in the flooring where +the clear, cool water was, and taking his chin in her coarse little +freckly hands, washed the face of her hero and partner. And meanwhile +Wiggle tugged on her apron as if he thought she were inflicting some +injury upon the boy. + +So blinded was Pee-wee by this vigorous bath and so preoccupied the +others that for the moment none of them noticed the young fellow of +about twenty who, with hat tilted rakishly on the side of his head and +cigarette drooping from the corner of his mouth, stood in the road +watching them. + + + + + CHAPTER X + + DEADWOOD GAMELY TALKS BUSINESS + + +Deadwood Gamely was the village sport and enjoyed a certain prestige +because his father was a lawyer. He was also somewhat of an object of +awe because he went to Baxter City every day, and worked in the bank +there. + +His ramshackle Ford roadster was considered an evidence of the terribly +reckless extravagance of his habits, but it was really nothing more than +a sort of pocketbook, since all his money went into it, and a very +shabby one at that. He had a cheap wit and swaggeringly condescending +air which he practiced on the simple inhabitants of Everdoze, and in his +banter he was not always kind. Yet notwithstanding that he was tawdry +both in dress and speech the villagers did not venture much into the +conversational arena with him because they knew that they were not his +equals in banter and retort. + +“Hello, little orphan Annie,” he said. “Bungel was telling me the wagon +is coming for you pretty soon. Over the hill to the poorhouse. Ever hear +that song? What’s that you’ve got there, a soldier? Watcher doing with +him? Lucky kid, _I’d_ like to be a soldier.” + +“What were you, a slacker?” Pee-wee shouted. + +This was not the kind of retort that Deadwood Gamely was accustomed to +hearing and he gave a quick look at the small stranger in khaki who sat +behind the counter like a judge on the bench staring straight at him. + +“Don’t get him riled,” Pepsy whispered. “He likes to get me riled so’s +just to make me feel silly; it’s—it’s Deadwood Gamely. He’s always +togged out swell like that,” she added fearfully. + +“The only thing that’s swell about him is his head,” said Pee-wee in his +loudest voice. “Don’t you be scared of him, I’m here.” + +“What’s that?” said the young man in a tone intended to be darkly +menacing. + +“You’d better put your hat on the top of your head or it’ll blow off,” +said Pee-wee. “I said that I’m here. Let’s hear you deny it. If I was a +crow I might be afraid of you.” + +Slightly taken aback by his ready retorts, the young man could only say, +“If you were a crow, hey?” He stepped a little closer to the counter but +the ominous advance did not alarm Pee-wee in the least. He sat behind +his card-strewn counter holding the stencil brush like a sort of weapon +ready to besmear that face of sneering assurance if its owner ventured +too near. + +“So I’m a scarecrow, eh?” Mr. Gamely said with a side glance at Pepsy. +He was not going to have her witness his discomfiture at the hands of +this glib little stranger. Moreover, a slur at his personal splendor was +a very grave matter and not to be overlooked. + +“I don’t like fresh kids,” said Mr. Deadwood Gamely, advancing with an +air of veiled menace. “Sometimes they get so fresh they have to be +salted a little. Don’t you think you’d better take that back?” + +Pepsy waited, fearful, breathless. + +“Sure I will,” said Pee-wee; “the next scarecrow I meet I’ll apologize +to him.” + +Deadwood Gamely paused. His usual procedure in an affair of this kind +would have been to advance quickly, ruffle his victim’s hair in a +goading kind of swaggerish good humor and send him sprawling. He would +not really have hurt a youngster like Pee-wee but he would have made him +look and feel ridiculous. + +But a glance at Pee-wee’s gummy stencil brush reminded Mr. Gamely that +discretion was the better part of valor. A dexterous dab or two of that +would have put an end to all his glory. Pee-wee left no doubt about +this. + +“This summer-house is on private land,” he said, “and I’m the boss of +it. If you try to get fresh with me I’ll paint you blacker—blacker than +a—than a tomato could—I will. You come ten steps nearer, I _dare_ you +to.” + +Gamely paused irresolute, at which Pepsy, under protection of her +partner’s terrible threat, set up a provoking laugh. Wiggle, appearing +to sense the situation, began to bark uproariously. There was nothing +for the baffled village sport to do but retreat as gracefully as he +could. + +“Can’t you take a joke?” he said weakly. “Do you think I’d hurt you?” + +“I _know_ you wouldn’t,” said Pee-wee; “you wouldn’t get the chance. You +think you’re smart, don’t you, talking about the wagon coming to get her +and getting her all scared.” + +[Illustration: MR. GAMELY DECIDES TO KEEP AWAY FROM PEE-WEE’S BRUSH.] + +Deadwood Gamely broke into a very excessive but false laugh. “No harm +intended,” he said, vaulting on to the fence and sitting discreetly at +that distance. “What’s all this going on here? Going to have a circus or +play store or something?” + +Pee-wee was always magnanimous in victory. Abiding enmity was a thing he +knew not. So now he laid down his stencil brush (within easy reach) and +said, “We’re going to start a refreshment shack and sell fruit and +lemonade and waffles and things and maybe auto accessories and +souvenirs.” + +Pepsy seemed a bit uncomfortable as Pee-wee said this, perhaps just a +trifle ashamed. She was afraid that this clever, sophisticated young +fellow would ridicule their enterprise, as indeed there was good reason +to do. Yet she felt ashamed, too, of her momentary faithlessness to +Pee-wee. + +“Maybe some people will pass here when they have the carnival at +Berryville,” she said, half apologetically. + +To her surprise Deadwood Gamely, instead of emitting an uproarious, +mocking laugh, appeared to be thinking. + +“Bully for you,” he finally said, looking all about as if to size up the +surroundings. “Right on the job, hey? I’d like to buy some stock in that +enterprise. Whose idea is it? Yours, kiddo?” + +“We’re going to make money enough to buy three tents for the scout troop +I belong to,” Pee-wee said. + +“Visiting here, hey?” + +“I live in Bridgeboro, New Jersey; I’m here for the summer.” + +Deadwood Gamely sat on the fence still looking about him and whistling. +Then, instead of bursting forth in derisive merriment as Pepsy dreaded +he would do, he made an astonishing remark. + +“I tell you what I’ll do,” he said. “You kids take care of the place and +furnish the fruit and stuff and I’ll put up the coin for all the stuff +you have to buy—chewing gum, and accessories, and souvenirs and junk +that has to be got in the city, and we’ll share even. I’ll put up the +capital and be a silent partner. How does that strike you? You two will +be the active partners. We’ll make the thing go big. I mean what I say.” + +“What’s a silent partner?” Pee-wee demanded. + +“Oh, that’s just the fellow that puts up the money and keeps in the +background sort of, and nobody knows he’s interested.” + +“I’d rather be a noisy partner,” Pee-wee said. “I wouldn’t be silent for +anybody, I wouldn’t.” Deadwood Gamely paused a moment, smiling. “No, but +you could keep a secret, couldn’t you?” he asked. + + + + + CHAPTER XI + + TWO IS A COMPANY—THREE IS BAD LUCK + + +Pee-wee and Pepsy were not agreed about allowing this third person to +buy into their enterprise. Pepsy was suspicious because she could not +understand it. But Pee-wee, quick to forget dislikes and trifling +injuries, was strong for the new partner. + +“He’s all right,” he told her, “and scouts are supposed to be kind and +help people and maybe he wants to reform and we ought to help him get +into business.” + +“He’s a smarty and I _hate_ him and three is bad luck,” was all that +Pepsy could say. Then she broke down crying, “Miss Bellison hates him, +too,” she sobbed, “and—and if people sit three in a seat in a wagon one +of them dies inside of a year. Now you go and spoil it all by having +three.” + +“You get three jawbreakers for a cent,” Pee-wee said. “Lots of times I +bought them three for a cent, and I bought peanut bars three for a cent +too, and I never died inside of a year, you can ask anybody.” + +“I don’t care, I want to have it all alone with you,” she sobbed. + +“If we count Wiggle in that will make four,” Pee-wee said, “and none of +us will die. If the customers die that doesn’t count, does it?” + +Pepsy did not hear this rather ominous prediction about those who would +eat the waffles and the taffy. Her hate and her tears were her only +arguments, but they won the day. + +“He’s got a Ford,” Pee-wee said in scornful final plea, “and he can put +up money enough for us to buy lots of sundries and pretty soon we’ll +have money enough to start other refreshment places and he can be the +one to ride around—he’ll be kind of field manager. It shows how much +girls know about business,” he added disgustedly. “I bet you don’t even +know what capital means.” + +“It means what you begin a sentence with,” Pepsy sobbed. + +“You don’t want it to be a success,” he charged scornfully. + +“You’re a _mean thing_ to say that,” she sobbed, “and I do—I do—I _do_ +want it to be a success—and—and—even if it isn’t we’ll have lots of fun +if it’s just us two. Because anyway we can _make believe_, and that’s +fun.” + +“What do you mean, _make believe_?” Pee-wee demanded. “Aren’t we going +to make enough to buy the tents? That shows how much you know about +scouts. If scouts make up their minds to do things they _do_ them—and +they don’t make believe. I’ll give in to you about that feller but you +have to say we’re not going to just make believe and play store, because +that’s the way girls do. You have to say you’re in earnest and cross +your heart and say we’ll make a lot of money—_sure_.” + +Pepsy just sobbed. Her staunch little heart (when she would listen to +it) told her how forlorn was the hope of “really and truly” success +along that by-road through the wilderness. But the imagination which +could be terrified by the rattle of that planking on the old bridge was +quite equal to finding satisfaction in “playing store” and in seeing +customers where there were none. Pee-wee believed that anything could be +done by power of will. She could find the utmost joy in _pretending_. +No, not the utmost joy, for the utmost joy would be to buy the tents.... + +“You have to say we’re not pretending like girls do,” he insisted +relentlessly as she buried her head in her poor little thin arm and +sobbed more and more. “You have to say it. Do you cross your heart? Is +it going to be a success? Are we going to make lots of money—sure? You +have to say we’re not just fooling like girls. Do you say it? You’re not +just playing?” + +“N—no.” + +“Cross your heart.” + +Her freckly hands went crossways on her heaving breast. + +“It’s business just like—like Mr. Drowser’s store. Is it?” + +She nodded her head. + +“Say + + If I cross my heart and don’t mean what I say, + I hope to drop dead the very same day. + +Say that?” + +So she sobbed out those terrible words. “And you promise not to let him +come in?” she added, provisionally. + +He promised and then suddenly she raised her head with a kind of jerk, +as if possessed by a sudden, new spirit of determination. Her eyes were +streaming. She looked straight into his face. There was fire enough in +her eyes to dry the tears. + +“If—if you wish a thing—you—you get—you get it,” she gulped. “Because I +wished and wished to go away from that—that place—and now I made up my +mind that we’re going to—going to—make a lot of money for—for _you_—I +just did—” + +She did not say _how_ they were going to do it.... + + + + + CHAPTER XII + + THE ADVERTISING DEPARTMENT + + +The next morning Pee-wee strode forth and made the magnanimous sacrifice +heroically. He found Deadwood Gamely in front of Simeon Drowser’s +village store, talking with two men who sat in an auto. + +The auto was so large and handsome that it looked out of place in front +of Simeon Drowser’s store, and the men who occupied it looked like city +men. It encouraged Pee-wee (or rather confirmed his assurance of +success) to see this sumptuous car in Everdoze, for it proved that +people did come to that sequestered village. He pictured these two +prosperous looking business men with frankfurters in their hands, their +mouths dripping with mustard. + +Pee-wee was nothing if not self-possessed, his scout uniform was his +protection, and he strode up and spoke quite to the point to the young +fellow who leaned against the car with one foot on the running board. + +“We decided not to take you in as a partner,” he said, “because we want +to have it all to ourselves and I came to tell you.” + +Deadwood Gamely seemed rather taken aback, but whether it was because of +this refusal of his offer, or because Pee-wee’s loud announcement +embarrassed him before the strangers it would be hard to say. Seeing +that the diminutive scout no longer held the deadly stencil brush he +removed Pee-wee’s hat with a swaggering good humor, ruffled his hair, +and said (rather disconcertedly), “All right, kiddo; so long.” + +Pee-wee had anticipated an argument with Gamely and he was surprised at +the promptness and agreeableness of his dismissal. Two things, one seen +and one heard, remained in his memory as he trudged back to the farm. +One was a brief case lying on the back seat of the auto on which was +printed WALLACE CONSTRUCTION CO. The other was something he heard one of +the men say after he had returned a little way along the road. + +“I didn’t think you were such a fool,” the man said, evidently to young +Gamely. Within a few seconds more the auto was rolling away. + +It seemed to Pee-wee that Gamely had told the men of his proposal to +join the big enterprise and that they had denounced his wisdom and +judgment. But Pee-wee was not the one to be discouraged by that. “Maybe +they know all about construction,” he said to himself, “but that’s not +saying they know all about refreshment shacks. I bet they don’t know any +more about eats than I do.” Which in all probability was the case. + +On the way back to the farm, Pee-wee noticed in a field the most +outlandish scarecrow he had ever seen. It was sitting on a stone wall, +and it must have been a brave crow that would have ventured within a +mile of that ridiculous bundle of rags. The face was effectually +concealed by a huge hat as is the case with most scarecrows, and all the +cast-off clothing of Everdoze for centuries back seemed combined here in +incongruous array. + +What was Pee-wee’s consternation when he beheld this figure actually +descend from the fence and come shambling over toward him. If the legs +were not on stilts they were certainly the longest legs he had ever +seen, and they must have been suspended by a kind of universal joint for +they moved in every direction while bringing their burden forward. + +Upon this absurd being’s closer approach, Pee-wee perceived it to be a +negro as thin and tall as a clothespole, and so black that the blackness +of sin would seem white by comparison and the arctic night like the +blazing rays of midsummer. This was Licorice Stick whose home was +nowhere in particular, whose profession was everything and chiefly +nothing. + +“I done seed yer comin’,” he said with a smile a mile long which shone +in the surrounding darkness like the midnight sun of Norway. His teeth +were as conspicuous as tombstones, and on close inspection Pee-wee saw +that his tattered regalia was held together by a system of safety pins +placed at strategic points. The terrible responsibility of suspenders +was borne by a single strand consisting of a key ring chain connected +with a shoe lace and this ran through a harness pin which, if the worst +came to the worst, would act as a sort of emergency stop. Licorice Stick +was built in the shape of a right angle, his feet being almost as long +as his body and they flapped down like carpet beaters when he walked. + +“You stayin’ wib Uncle Eb?” he asked. “I seed yer yes’day. I done hear +yer start a sto.” + +“A what?” Pee-wee asked, as they walked along together. + +“A sto—you sell eats, hey?” + +“Oh, you mean a _store_,” Pee-wee said. + +“I help you,” said the lanky stranger; “me’n Pepsy, we good friends. She +hab to go back to dat workhouse, de bridge it say so. Dat bridge am a +sperrit.” + +“You’re crazy,” Pee-wee said. “What’s the use of being scared at an old +rattly bridge. If you want to help us I’ll tell you how you can do it. I +made a lot of signs and you can tack them all up on the trees along the +road for us if you want to. I’ll show you just how to do it.” + +No one was at the shack when they reached it for Pepsy was about her +household duties, so she had no knowledge of this new recruit in their +enterprise. Pee-wee’s conscience was clear in this matter, however, for +he had enlisted Licorice Stick as an employee, at the staggering salary +of twenty-five cents a week; there was no thought of his being a +partner. The willing assistance of his new friend would leave his own +time free for more important duties, and the advertising work once done, +Licorice Stick was to devote his time to catching fish for the “sto” and +other incidental duties. + +Pee-wee now arranged his advertising masterpieces in order for posting. +The imposing type on the cards impressed Licorice Stick deeply. He could +not read two words but he seemed to sense the sensational announcements, +and the arrow which Pee-wee had made on each card to indicate the +direction of the shack was regarded by him as a sort of mystic symbol. + +“This is the way you have to do,” Pee-wee said; “now pay attention, +because it pays to advertise. There are two cards for each sign, see?” + +“Dey’s nice black print,” Licorice Stick said with reverent +appreciation. “En dey’s de magic sign, too.” + +“That tells them where the place is,” Pee-wee said. “Now, you keep the +cards just the way I give them to you and always tack them up with the +arrow pointing _this way_, see? Here’s a hammer and here’s some tacks. +When you come to a nice big tree or a wooden fence or an old barn, +you’re supposed to tack them up, and be sure to do it the way I tell +you. Now, suppose you’re going to tack up the first card—the one on the +top of the pile. You tack it up and right close under it you tack up the +next one, and it will say: + + FRANKFURTERS + SIZZLING HOT ⇾ + +“Mmm—_mm!_” exclaimed Licorice Stick, as if a hot frankfurter had +actually been produced by this ingenious card trick. + +“Then you go along a little way,” said Pee-wee, “till you come to +another good place, maybe a fence or something, and you tack up the next +one and right underneath it you tack up the next one; always take the +next one off the top of the pile, see? + + ICE CREAM + ⇽ COLD AND COOLING + +Pee-wee repeated, holding the next two cards up. This palate tickling +sleight-of-hand seemed like a miracle to the smiling, astonished +messenger. + +Pee-wee seemed a kind of magician summoning up luscious concoctions with +a magic wand. The fifth and sixth cards were held together for a moment +and lo, Licorice Stick listened to the mouth-watering announcement that +peanut taffy was sweet and delicious. + +No “sperrit” of Licorice Stick’s acquaintance had ever cast a spell like +this. They had called in weird voices but they had never contrived a +menu before his very eyes. + +He went forth armed with the hammer and tacks and a pile of mysterious +cards, a little proud but trembling a little, too. There was something +uncanny about this; he would see it through but it was a strange, dark +business. He shuffled along the road, peering fearfully into the woods +now and again when suddenly a terrible apparition appeared before him. +He stood stark still, his eyes bulging out of his head, his hands +shaking and cold with fear.... + + + + + CHAPTER XIII + + PEPSY’S SECRET + + +“Sally Knapp says we ought to have some barrels to put the money in,” +said Pepsy as they were decorating their little wayside booth on the day +of the grand opening. “I don’t care what she says.” + +She was feeling encouraged and cheerful for indeed the little +summer-house looked gay and attractive in its bunting drapery and +flaunting pennants. Failure could not lurk in such festal array, the tin +dishpan full of greasy doughnuts, the homemade rolls and fresh sausages +(which were better than any common wayside frankfurters) would certainly +lure the hungry thither. The world would seek these things out. And were +not the people of the grand carnival at Berryville to pass here that +very day, followed, no doubt, by gay pleasure seekers? + +To be sure there were no auto accessories yet, for there was no capital, +but there was lemonade and candy and cider and homemade ice cream and +there was Scout Harris wearing a kitchen apron ten times too big for +him, tied with a wonderful, spreading bow in back, and a paper hat +spotlessly white. + +The advertising department had not reported, but no doubt the woods were +calling to the wayfarers in glaring red and black, or would as soon as +the wayfarers put in an appearance. Pepsy wore her Sunday gingham dress +embellished with a sash of patriotic bunting. + +“Don’t you care what the girls say,” Pee-wee advised her as he sat on +the counter eating a piece of peanut taffy by way of testing the stock, +so that he might the more honestly recommend it. “I wouldn’t let any +girls jolly _me_, I wouldn’t. Lots of girls tried to jolly me but they +never got away with it.” + +“Did that girl that was kept after school try to jolly you?” Pepsy +asked. + +“I wouldn’t let any girls jolly me,” Pee-wee said, ignoring the specific +question and speaking with difficulty, because of the stickiness of the +taffy. “They think they’re smart, girls do; I don’t mean you, but most +of them. I know how to handle them all right. They try to make a fool of +you and then just giggle, but the last laugh is the best, that’s one +sure thing.” + +“I told her she was a freshy,” Pepsy said, “and that she wouldn’t dare +talk like that in front of you because you’d make a fool of her.” + +“I should worry about girls,” Pee-wee said. + +“I’m not worrying about our refreshment shack anyway,” Pepsy said, +“because now I know it will be lots and lots of a success. And maybe you +can buy four or five tents and lots of other things. Every night in bed +I keep saying: + + It has to succeed, + It has to succeed, + +and I make believe the floor on the bridge says that instead. But +sometimes it says I have to go back. When the wind blows this way I can +hear it loud. I know a secret that I thought of all by myself; I thought +about it when I was lying in bed listening. And I can make us get lots +of money, I can make it, oh, lots and lots and _lots_ of a success. So I +don’t care any more what people say. I told Aunt Jamsiah I knew a secret +and I could make us get lots of money here and she said I should tell +her and I wouldn’t.” + +“Will you tell me?” Pee-wee asked. + +“No, I wouldn’t tell _anybody_.” + +“You ought to tell me because we’re partners.” + +“I wouldn’t tell anybody,” she said, shaking her head emphatically so +that her red braids lashed about; “not even if you gave me—as much as a +dollar....” + + + + + CHAPTER XIV + + SUSPENSE + + +Soon the gorgeous chariot containing the carnival paraphernalia came +lumbering along en route for Berryville. It was a vision of red and gold +with wheels that looked like pinwheels in a fireworks display. + +The one discordant note about it was the rather startling projection of +the heads and legs of animals here and there as if the wagon were +returning from a hunt in South Africa. But these were only the +disconnected parts of a merry-go-round. + +Upon the white and silver wind organ which arose out of this ghastly +display sat a personage in cap and bells with face elaborately decorated +in every color of the rainbow. He was distributing printed announcements +to the gaping citizens of Everdoze. Not so much as a frankfurter or a +glass of lemonade did the people of this motley caravan buy. + +It was late in the afternoon and Pee-wee and Pepsy were feeling the +tedium of waiting when suddenly the sound of merry laughter burst upon +their ears and somebody said, “Oh, I think it’s perfectly _adorable_ to +be on the wrong road! I just _adore_ being lost! And I _never_ saw +anything so _perfectly excruciating_ in my life!” + +“It’s an auto full of girls,” said Pee-wee, adjusting his paper hat upon +his head; “they come from the city, I can tell; you leave them to me.” + +“I _never_ saw anything so _adorably funny_ in all my _life”_ the +partners now heard. “I just have a headache from laughing.” + +“I know that kind,” said Pee-wee; “they’ve got the giggles. You leave +them to me.” + +Pepsy was ready enough to defer to the master mind, the more so because +this approach of their first probable customers gave her a kind of stage +fright. She was seized with sudden terror and the dishpan full of +doughnuts shook in her hands as she placed it in full view by Pee-wee’s +order. + +The auto was evidently picking its way along the hubbly road in second +gear. “We’ll find a place where we can turn around somewhere,” said a +man’s voice good humoredly. + +“Not till we’ve _gorged_ ourselves with food,” the voice of a girl +caroled forth. + +Pee-wee gave his white paper cap a final adjustment, stood the pan of +taffy enticingly in full view and waited as a pugilist waits, for the +adversary’s next move. + +“I am going to have a saucerful of ground glass, the latest breakfast +food,” a female voice sang merrily. At which there was a chorus of +laughter. + +“What did she say?” Pepsy asked. + +“Girls are crazy,” Pee-wee said. + +Pepsy fumbled nervously with the several glasses of lemonade which stood +temptingly ready on the counter and glanced fearfully but admiringly at +the genius of this magnificent enterprise. It was the biggest moment in +her poor little life and Pee-wee was a conquering hero. She placed the +fudge within his reach and waited in terrible suspense to see him +operate upon this giggling band of lost pilgrims. + +Nearer and nearer the car came and now it poked its big nickel-plated +nose around the bend and advanced slowly, easily, along the narrow, +grass grown way. It looked singularly out of place in that wild valley. + +A low, melodious horn politely reminded Simeon Drowser, who stood gaping +in the middle of the road, to withdraw to a safer gaping point. He +retreated to the platform in front of the post office and consulted with +Beriah Bungel, the village constable, about this sumptuous apparition. +Only a couple of hundred feet remained now between the refreshment +parlor and this party of mirthful victims. If Pepsy’s red hair had been +short enough it would have stood on end; as it was her fingers tingled +with mingled appeal and confidence in the head of the firm. + +Would it stop? Oh, would it stop? The suspense was terrible. + +“F-r-resh doughnuts!” called Pee-wee in a sonorous voice. “Ice cold +lemonade! It’s _ice cold_! Get your fudge here!” + +Pepsy looked admiringly upon her hero. She would not have dared to +obtrude into the negotiations which seemed at hand. She gazed wistfully +at a half dozen girls in fresh, colorful, summer array as only a little +red-headed orphan girl in a gingham dress can do. She gazed at the big, +palatial touring car with eyes spellbound. It was thus that the Indians +first gazed upon the ships of Columbus. + +[Illustration: PEE-WEE TRIPPED ON HIS APRON AND WENT SPRAWLING.] + +“Hot frankfurters,” shouted Pee-wee from behind his counter. “They’re +all hot! Here you are! Get your fresh sweet cider! Five a glass! +Doughnuts six for a dime! All fresh!” + + + + + CHAPTER XV + + SIX MERRY MAIDENS + + +“What kind of nuts did you say?” called a girl merrily, as the car +stopped. + +“Doughnuts,” said Pee-wee. + +“We thought maybe everybody here were nuts,” laughed the man who was +driving. + +“I’d like a nice saucerful of ground glass,” laughed one of the girls. +“Can you serve carbon remover with it?” + +“Oh, isn’t he just too cute!” another girl said. “Could we get a little +of your _delicious_ tire tape, we’re so hungry? What are you all going +to drink, girls? We’ll have six glasses of carbon remover, if you +please, and, let’s see, we’ll have six plates of ice cream hot out of +the oven.” + +“Do you think you can jolly me?” said the head of the firm. “I’ll give +you some carpet tacks to eat if you’d like them.” + +“Oh, wouldn’t those be _too scrumptuous_,” another girl said. “Do you +serve peanut glue with them?” + +“I’ll give you some fried fish-hooks,” Pee-wee shot back with blighting +sarcasm. + +“Yes, but what we’d like most of _all_ is the ground glass,” said +another girl. “Is it chocolate or vanilla flavor?” At which they all +giggled, while the man smiled broadly. + +“What flavor glass are you going to have, Esther?” a girl asked. + +“Oh, I think I’ll take cathedral glass,” caroled forth another; “I think +it’s more digestible than window glass, if it’s properly cooked.” At +which there was another chorus of laughter. + +The terrible conqueror, who intended to subdue this bevy of giggling +maidens and cast a blight upon their levity, stood behind his counter +like a soldier making a last stand in a third line trench, while Pepsy, +captivated by the mirthful assailants, laughed uncontrollably. + +The head of the firm saw that this was no time for dallying measures, +his own partner was laughing, and even Wiggle was barking uproariously +at Pee-wee as if he had shamelessly gone over to the enemy. + +“Oh, it’s just—too _excruciatingly funny_ for anything!” one of the +girls laughed. “I _never_ in my _life_ heard of such—Oh, look at him! +_Look at him!_ Hold me or I’ll _collapse_!” + +Pee-wee had come around from behind the counter, tripped on his long +white apron and gone sprawling on the ground, and the faithless Wiggle, +taking advantage of this inglorious mishap, started pulling on the apron +with all his might and main. Loyal Pepsy was only human, and tears of +laughter streamed down her cheeks, and the neighboring woodland echoed +to the sound of the unholy mirth in the auto. + +A large frying fork which Pee-wee used as a sort of magnet to attract +trade was still in his hand and by means of this he caught his white +paper cap as it blew away, piercing it as if it were a fresh doughnut. +It was indeed the only instance of triumph for him in the tragic affair. +He arose, with Wiggle still tugging at his apron, his face decorated +with colorful earth, his eyes glaring defiance. + +The driver of the auto, who seemed to be a kindly man, put an end to +this unequal and hopeless struggle of the scout, by ordering a round of +lemonade and purchasing fifty cents’ worth of doughnuts. “When you have +a few minutes to spare,” he said in a companionable undertone, “stroll +up the road and look about; the scenery is beautiful.” + +“What do you mean?” Pee-wee demanded . + +“And be sure to take some salted spark plugs with you in case you get +lost in the woods,” one of the girls chirped teasingly as the auto +started. And the victim distinctly heard another say, as the big car +rolled away: “It’s a _shame_ to tease him; he’s just too cute for +anything. I could just _kiss_ him. But it was so excruciatingly funny.” + + + + + CHAPTER XVI + + A REVELATION + + +“What are you laughing at?” Pee-wee demanded to know, as soon as he had +regained his poise and dignity. “You’re as bad as they are.” + +“I couldn’t _help_ laughing,” Pepsy said remorsefully, “’specially when +you fell down. You said you were going to handle them.” + +“That could happen to the smartest man,” Pee-wee said in scornful +reproval; “that could happen to—to—to Julius Caesar.” + +“He’s dead, you ask Miss Bellison,” said Pepsy timidly. + +“That shows how much you know,” said Pee-wee scornfully as he brushed +off his clothing. “Can’t something be a kind of a thing that could +happen to somebody who’s dead if he was very smart, only if he wasn’t +dead? We got a dollar and ten cents from them, didn’t we?” + +“Yes, but—did you—did you—handle them?” Pepsy asked fearfully. + +“There are different ways of handling people,” Pee-wee said; “you can’t +handle people that are crazy, can you? I can handle scoutmasters even.” +Pepsy was willing to believe anything of her hero and she said, “They +were a lot of freshies and I hate them anyway.” + +Pee-wee did not trouble himself about what the man had said. His chief +interest was the dollar and ten cents of working capital which they now +had and how to invest it. In his enthusiasm he had been rather premature +in his advertisement of auto accessories and he now purposed to make +good at least one of these announcements by commissioning Simeon Drowser +to buy some ten-cent rolls of tire tape for him at Baxter City, whither +Simeon went daily. + +He started along the road to the post office where he hoped to catch +Simeon before that worthy left for Baxter City. But he did not reach the +post office. The first interruption to his progress was one of his own +two-card signs staring him in the face from a roadside tree + + CHEWING GUM + FOR PUNCTURES + +He paused scowling before this novel announcement. + +His gaze then wandered to a fence on which he read the astounding words: + + PANCAKES FOR + HEADLIGHTS + +Alas, the ground glass which should have appeared in place of pancakes +did duty beneath the single word _EAT_ on another tree nearby. _Eat +GROUND GLASS_ the hungry motorist was blithely advised. + +Nor was this the worst. As Pee-wee penetrated deeper into the woods the +more terrible was the masquerade of his own enticing signs. His +stenciled cards, deserting their lawful mates, had struck up ghastly +unions with other cards proclaiming frightful items of refreshment to +the appalled wayfarer who was reminded of _NON-SKID BANANAS_ and advised +that _OUR PEANUT TAFFY STICKS LIKE GLUE_. The faithless _TIRE TAPE_ +which should have surmounted the _STICK LIKE GLUE_ card was nestling +under the fatal _EAT_, while _FRANKFURTERS COLD AND COOLING_ and _ICE +CREAM SIZZLING HOT_ met Pee-wee’s astonished gaze. He stood looking at +this awful sequel of his handiwork. + +Most of the cards were besmeared with mud and one or two in such a +freakish way as to give a curious turn to their meaning. On one card a +mischievous little rivulet of mud or wetted ink had ingeniously changed +a T into a crude R and the travelers read _RUBES SOLD HERE_. + +Pee-wee contemplated this exhibition with dismay. Wherever he looked, on +fence or tree, some ridiculous sign stared him in the face. He did not +continue on to the post office but retraced his steps to the refreshment +parlor which was the subject of these printed slanders. + +He and Pepsy were discussing this miscarriage of their exploitation +design when a shuffling sound in the distance proclaimed the shambling +approach of the advertising department. And if Pee-wee had not made good +his flaunting boast to handle the six merry maidens he at least made +amends and regained somewhat of his heroic tradition in his handling of +Licorice Stick. + +“What did I tell you to do?” he shouted, his face red with terrible +wrath. “What did I tell you to do? Do you know the way you put those +cards up? You made fools of us, that’s what you did!” + +“I done gone make no fools ob you, nohow,” Licorice Stick exclaimed. “I +see a sperrit ’n I shakes like dat, I do. As shu I’m stan’ here I see a +sperrit in dem woods.” + +From a vivid and terrifying narrative the partners made out that while +Licorice Stick was on his way to embellish the wayside in strict +accordance with instructions, he had encountered a spirit from the other +world in the form of the carnival clown whom we have seen pass our +wayside rest. + +The ghostly raiment of this lowly humorist and the motley decoration of +his face had so frightened Licorice Stick that he had dropped his cards +and retreated frantically into the woods. When the awful apparition had +passed he had stealthily shuffled back to the spot and with many furtive +glances about him had gathered up the cards with trembling hands, and +proceeded to post them in pairs without regard to their proper order. + +After this triumphant exploitation feat (which ought to commend him to +every lying advertiser in the world) Licorice Stick had shuffled into a +new path of glory, going to the carnival, where (not finding the sperrit +in evidence) he had accepted a position to stand behind a piece of +canvas with his head in an opening and allow people to throw baseballs +at him. + +On hearing this Pee-wee desisted from any further criticism. For, as he +told Pepsy, “a scout has to be kind and forgiving, and besides when I go +to the carnival I can plug him in the face with a baseball two or three +times and then we’ll be square.” + + + + + CHAPTER XVII + + HARD TIMES + + +If many people went to the carnival they must have approached it from +the other direction. It was a small carnival and probably did not +attract much interest outside of Berryville. A few stragglers passed Mr. +Quig’s farm traveling in buck-boards and farm wagons, but they did not +come from distant parts and evidently were not hungry. Some were so +unscrupulous as to bring their lunches with them. One reckless farmer, +indeed, bought a doughnut and exchanged it for another with a smaller +hole. + +Altogether the neighboring carnival did not bring much business to +Pee-wee and Pepsy. Aunt Jamsiah took their enterprise good-naturedly; +Uncle Ebenezer said it was a good thing to keep the children out of +mischief. Miss Bellison, the young school teacher, bought ten cents’ +worth of taffy each day as a matter of duty, and Beriah Bungel, the town +constable, being a natural born grafter, helped himself to everything he +wanted free of charge. + +So the pleasant summer days passed and brought them little business. +Occasionally some lonely auto would crawl along the foliage-arched road, +its driver looking for a place to turn around so that he might get back +out of his mistaken way. Most of these were too disgruntled at their +mistakes and the quality of the road to heed the voice of the tempter +who shouted at them, “Lemonade, ice cold! Get your lemonade here!” They +usually answered by asking how they could get to West Baxter. And +Pee-wee would answer, “You have to go four miles back, get your hot +doughnuts here.” Then they would start back but they never, _never_ got +their hot doughnuts there. + +If Pee-wee’s stout heart was losing hope he did not show it, but Pepsy +was frankly in despair. In her free hours she sat in their little +shelter, her thin, freckly hands busy with the worsted masterpiece that +she was working. Pee-wee, at least, had his appetite to console him, but +she had no relish for the stale lemonade and melting, oozy taffy which +stood pathetically on the counter each night. + +One day a lumbering, enclosed auto went by, an undertaker’s car it was, +and Pepsy was seized with sudden fright lest it be the orphan asylum +wagon come to get her. The two dominating thoughts of her simple mind +were the fear that she would have to go back to “that place” and the +hope that Pee-wee might get the money to buy those precious tents. She +had learned something of scouting, that scouts camp and live in the +open, and she had learned something of the good scout laws. She was +witnessing now an exhibition of scout faith and resolution, of faith +that was hopeless and resolution that was futile. She was soon to be +made aware of another scout quality which fairly staggered her and left +her wondering. + + + + + CHAPTER XVIII + + THE VOICE OF THE TAIL-LIGHT + + +One night after dark, Pepsy and Pee-wee were sitting in their little +roadside pavilion because they preferred it to the lamp-lighted kitchen +smelling of kerosene where Uncle Ebenezer read the _American Farm +Journal_, his arms spread on the red covered table. + +A cheery little cricket chirped somewhere in this scene of impending +failure; nearby a katydid was grinding out her old familiar song as if +it were the latest popular air. In the barn across the yard the +discordant sound of the horses kicking the echoing boards sounded clear +in the still night and seemed a part of the homely music of the +countryside. + +Suddenly a speeding auto, containing perhaps its load of merry, heedless +joy riders, went rattling over the old bridge along the highway and the +loose planks called out across the interval of woodland to the little +red-headed girl in this remote shack along the obscure by-road. + + “You have to go back, + You have to go back, + You have to go back.” + +Little did those speeding riders know of the voice they had called up to +terrify this unknown child. The rattling, warning voice ceased as +suddenly as it had begun as the unseen car rolled noiselessly along the +smooth highway. + +“Don’t you be scared of it,” Pee-wee said. “You’re as bad as Licorice +Stick. Those old boards don’t know what they’re talking about. I +wouldn’t be scared of what anything said unless it was alive, that’s +sure.” + +“They voted not to build a new bridge for two years because they’ve got +to build a new school-house,” said Pepsy. “That’s because this county +hasn’t got much money. I’ll be glad when they build it; the floor’s +going to be made out of stone, like.” + +“You mean the bridge?” + +“Yes, and I wish they’d hurry up. Every night I hear that and I know +boards tell the truth, because if a door squeaks that means you’re going +to get married.” + +“All you need is an oil can to keep from getting married then,” said +Pee-wee, “because if you oil a door it won’t squeak. So there; let’s +hear you answer that argument.” + +There was no answer to that argument; keeping single was just a matter +of lubrication; but just the same that appalling sentence which had +become fixed in Pepsy’s mind, haunted her, especially when she lay on +her feather mattress in the yellow painted bed up in her little room. + +She was just about to go in when they were aroused by a sound in the +distance. Pee-wee thought it was an auto and he made ready to deliver +his usual verbal assault to the travelers. Louder and louder grew the +sound and suddenly a motorcycle with no headlight went whizzing past in +the darkness. It was followed by another, also without any headlight, +but this second rider stopped a little distance beyond the shack and got +off his machine. + +Something, he knew not what, dissuaded Pee-wee from making his customary +announcements and he stood in the darkness watching this second speeder +who seemed to be delayed by some trouble with his machine. The traveler +was certainly too hurried and preoccupied to think of doughnuts. + +Meanwhile, the first cyclist had covered perhaps fifty yards and was +still going. The little red tail-light of his machine shone brightly. +Pee-wee was just wondering why these travelers used no headlights and +whether the first cyclist would return to assist his friend, when he +beheld something which caught and held his gaze in rapt concentration. + +The little red tail-light went out and on four times in quick +succession. There followed an appreciable pause, then two quick flashes. +Pee-wee watched the tiny light, spellbound. It appeared for a couple of +seconds, then flashed twice with lightning rapidity. + +“Hide,” Pee-wee repeated to himself and motioned with his hand for Pepsy +not to move. + +Now, in such rapid succession that Pee-wee could hardly follow them, the +flashes appeared, tinier as the cyclist sped further away. + +“_Hide Kelly’s barn_,” Pee-wee breathed. + +Presently the second cyclist was on his machine again, speeding through +the darkness. Either the first cyclist knew that his friend’s trouble +was not serious, or time was so precious that he could not pause in any +case. Indeed, their flight must have been urgent to speed on such a road +without headlights. The whole thing had a rather sinister look. Pee-wee +wondered who Kelly was and where his barn was located. + + + + + CHAPTER XIX + + THE OTHER VOICE + + +“What do you mean, hide in Kelly’s barn?” Pepsy whispered, greatly +agitated. + +“Can you keep still about it?” Pee-wee said. “Girls can’t keep secrets. +Can you keep still till I tell you it’s all right to speak?” + +“I can keep a secret and not even tell it to you,” she shot back at him +in spirited defiance. “I know a secret that will—that will—help us +_sure_ to make lots and lots of money. And I wouldn’t even tell you or +Aunt Jamsiah, because she tried to make me. So _there_, Mr. Smarty. And +I don’t care whether you tell me or not if I can’t keep a secret, but +I’ve got a secret all by myself and it’s that much bigger than yours,” +she said, spreading out her thin, little arms to include a vast area. +“And besides that, I _hate_ you,” she added, bursting into tears and +starting for the house. “And you can have that girl who was kept in +after school for a partner,” he heard her sobbing as she crossed the +yard. + +Pepsy did not pause to speak with Uncle Eb and Aunt Jamsiah who were +sitting in the kitchen, but the latter, seeing her in tears, said +kindly, “No folks passed by to the carnival to-night, Pepsy?” + +“Looks like rain,” Uncle Eb said consolingly; “to-morrer’ll be the big +night when they have the wrestlin’ match. I reckon Jeb Collard n’ all +his summer folks will go up on th’ hay-rig from West Baxter. You wait +till to-morrer night, Pep. Mamsy’ll make you up a pan of fresh doughnuts +fer to-morrer night, won’t you, Mamsy? Don’t you take on now, Pepsy +girl; you jes’ go ter bed n’ ferget yer troubles.” + +“I don’t care about people from West Baxter,” Pepsy said, stamping her +foot and shaking her head violently, “and I don’t care about the old +carnival or anything—so _now_. They’re all too stingy—to—to—buy +things—they’re too _stingy_. I—I—I—don’t care,” she went on fairly in +hysterics, “he says I can’t—I can’t—keep—keep—a secret—but I’ve got one +and I won’t tell it to anybody and I thought it up all myself and it +will _surely_ make lots and lots and lots of people come and buy—and—and +he’ll see if girls can do things.” She was crying violently and shaking +like a leaf. + +“What is the secret, Pepsy?” Aunt Jamsiah asked gently; “maybe I can +help you.” + +“I won’t tell—I won’t tell _anybody_,” Pepsy sobbed. + +They were accustomed to these outbursts of her tense little nature and +said no more. + +Pepsy went up to her little room under the eaves, catching each breath +and trembling. No wonder they had not understood her at that big brick +orphan home. No wonder she had hated it. Little as she was, she was too +big for it. + +She was in a mood to torment herself that night and she lay awake to +listen for that dread voice from across the woods. She lay on her left +side so they would have good luck next day. She was greatly overwrought +and when at last she did hear the sound, loud and heartless with its +sudden beginning and sudden end, it startled and terrorized her as if it +were indeed that gloomy, windowless equipage of the State Orphan Home, +coming to take her away. + +She pushed her little fingers into her ears so that she could not hear +it.... + + + + + CHAPTER XX + + AN OFFICIAL REBUKE + + +As for Pee-wee, his trouble was quite of another character. The dubious +outlook for their great enterprise did not submerge his buoyant spirit. +He had been the genius of many colossal enterprises, most of them +falling short of his glowing predictions, and his ingenious mind passed +from one thing to another with no lingering regrets. + +He usually invested so much enthusiasm in organization that he had none +left for maintenance. He did not stick at anything long enough to be +disappointed in it; there were too many other worlds to be conquered. +His heart was no longer in the refreshment parlor and he was already +finding solace in becoming his own solitary customer, by eating the +taffy which he could not sell. + +There had been so few things in Pepsy’s poor little life that she had +put her whole intense little heart and soul in this and was resolved +that this hero from the great world of Bridgeboro should buy the tents +which in plain fact he had already forgotten about. + +So it happened that while Pepsy was lying on her left side (one of +Licorice Stick’s prescriptions) to insure good luck for the morrow, +Pee-wee was dangling his legs from the counter eating a doughnut. + +What concerned him now was this mystery of the speeding cyclists. That +was the big thing in his young life. He believed them to be fugitives. +Their reckless speed, and the fact that they used no headlights, gave +color to this delightful supposition. Little had they thought that this +diminutive scout, unseen in the darkness, had read that message in the +Morse Code with perfect ease. _Hide Kelly’s Barn_. What did that mean? + +If Pee-wee had liked Beriah Bungel, the Everdoze constable, he would +have gone to him with this information. But he disliked Beriah Bungel +with true scout thoroughness; he knew him to be officious, and swelling +with self-importance and he was not going to put business in such a +creature’s way. + +But the next morning something happened which showed Scout Harris in a +new light. Going to the post office early in the morning, he saw a sign +posted on the bulletin board and he read it with lively interest. + + $250.00 REWARD + + for information leading to the arrest and conviction of the + thieves who stole two motorcycles from the yard of Chandlers + Motorcycle Repair Shop in Baxter City. + + The machines are Indian models bearing license plates 2570 and + 92632. Both machines are comparatively new. + + Communicate with Austin Sawyer, County prosecutor, County of + Borden, Baxter City. + +This notice had evidently been brought down by the mail driver early in +the morning and several distinguished citizens of Everdoze were gathered +about commenting on it. It seemed certain that none of the Everdoze +dozers had heard the motorcycles and surely no one in the village would +have been any the wiser for seeing those quick, tiny flashes, which told +so much to the scout. + +“I heerd somethin’ but ’twan’t no motorcycles,” said Nathaniel Knapp; +“’twas a auto or I’m crazy.” + +Then spoke Beriah Bungel, sticking his thumbs into his suspenders so +that his rusty-colored coat flapped open showing his imposing badge, +“They wouldn’ never come this way, they wouldn’, when they got th’ +highway ter go on. They hit inter th’ highway from Baxter, that’s what +they done. Them fellers hez con-federates waitin’ across th’ state line +with Noo York license plates. They made th’ line last night; them +fellers gits as fur as they kin on the first go off. Waal, haow’s +_re_-freshments?” he added, turning upon Pee-wee. + +“You ought to know,” Pee-wee piped up; “you took enough of them.” Which +caused a laugh among the store loungers. + +“When I wuz a youngster if I sassed my elders I got the hickory stick,” +Beriah said. + +“Yes, and when you grew up you got the peppermint sticks and doughnuts +and things,” Pee-wee shot back. + +At this Darius Dragg and Nathaniel Knapp laughed uproariously. Constable +Bungel saw but one way out of his rather embarrassing situation and that +was the old approved device of a box on the ears. The official slap +sounded loud in the little post office and left Pee-wee’s cheek and ear +tingling. + +“I’ll learn yer haow to answer back yer superiors,” said Constable +Bungel. “We daon’t relish sass from city youngsters daown here, you mind +that. Naow yer git along aouter here n’ tell yer uncle ter learn yer +some manners n’ _re_-spect fer th’ law.” + +Pee-wee faced him, his cheek flushed, his eyes blazing. “You’re a—you’re +a—coward—and a _thief_—that’s what you are,” he shouted. +“You—you—haven’t got brains enough to find two—two —motorcycles—you +haven’t—all you can do is stand around and eat things that other people +are trying to sell! You’re a coward and a—a fool—and you owe us as much +as—a—a dollar. You’d better button your coat up or you’ll—you’ll be +stealing your own watch—you—you _coward_!” + +With this rebuke, which left Beriah gaping, Pee-wee started home, +holding a hand to his cheek. He was trying hard not to cry, not from +pain, but from the indignity he had suffered. He had never known such a +thing in all his life before. He felt shamed, humiliated. His whole +sturdy little form trembled at the thought of such degradation at the +hands of a stranger.... + + + + + CHAPTER XXI + + SCOUT HARRIS FIXES IT + + +Perhaps you will say that Pee-wee was not a good scout to speak with +such impudent assurance to his elders. But you are to remember what I +told you about Pee-wee, that everything about him was tremendous except +his size. He was not always the ideal scout in little things. He was a +true scout in the big things. + +When he reached the shack he found Pepsy waiting for him and he poured +forth his grievance into her sympathetic ears. “I’ll fix him all right,” +he said; “he’s a coward, that’s what he is, and he needn’t think I’m +afraid of him. I’ll get even with him all right. Whenever I make up my +mind to do a thing I do it, that’s one thing sure.” + +“Only we didn’t make a success of our refreshment parlor,” Pepsy +ventured to say, “but just the same we’re going to because—” + +“What do _I_ care about it?” Pee-wee vociferated. “I know a way to get +two hundred and fifty dollars and that’s more money than we’d ever make +in this old place. And I’ll have you for my partner just the same. I’m +going to get two hundred and fifty dollars all at once.” + +“Can I see it when you get it?” Pepsy asked. + +“You can have half of it because we’re partners,” Pee-wee said, +recovering something of his former spirits as this new prospect opened +before him. + +“Can’t we have the refreshment parlor any more?” Pepsy asked wistfully. +“Because, honest and true, we’re going to make lots and lots of money in +it; I know a way—” + +“Listen, Pepsy,” Pee-wee said. “Do you know what the Morse Code is? It’s +the language they use when they telegraph. Scouts have to know all about +that. Do you remember when I said _hide Kelly’s barn_ last night? That’s +what that first feller said to the other one who was stuck. Didn’t you +notice how his little red light kept flashing away up the road? That’s +what it meant. They’re hiding in Kelly’s barn and nobody knows it. + +“There’s a sign in the post office and it says they’ll give two hundred +and fifty dollars to anybody who tells where they are. Do you think I’d +tell Beriah Bungel?” he added contemptuously. “I’m going to tell a man +named Sawyer, he’s the county prosecutor, he lives in Baxter City. Only +we have to go right away. I’m going back with the mail car to Baxter. Do +you want to go? If you do you have to hurry up.” + +The last time that Pepsy had appeared before an official-of-the-law she +had been sent to the big brick building and she was naturally wary of +prosecutors, judges and such people. Suppose Mr. Sawyer should order +herself and Pee-wee to the gallows for meddling in these dark, +mysterious matters. Pee-wee read this in her face. + +“Don’t be scared,” he said manfully; “I wouldn’t let anybody hurt you. +My father knows a man that’s a judge and he tells jokes and has two +helpings of dessert and everything just like other people. Prosecutors +aren’t so bad, gee whiz, they’re better than poison-ivy; they’re better +than school principals anyway, that’s sure. You see, I’ll handle him all +right.” + +Pepsy’s thoughts wandered to the six merry maidens whom Pee-wee had +“handled” with such astounding skill. “Can’t we have our refreshment +parlor any more?” she asked, with a note of homesickness for the little +place they had decorated with such high hope. “If you’ll wait, if you’ll +wait as much as—two weeks—lots and lots and lots and lots of people will +come—” + +But Pee-wee was not to be deterred by sentiment and false hope. “Don’t +you want us to have two hundred and fifty dollars?” he asked scornfully. +“Don’t you want us to buy those tents?” This was too much for Pepsy. She +grasped Pee-wee’s hand, following him reluctantly, as she gave a wistful +look back at their little wayside shelter. The “stock” had not been set +out for the day and the bare counter made the place look forlorn and +deserted as they went away. + +“It’s a blamed sight easier than running a refreshment parlor,” Pee-wee +said; “it’s just like picking the money up in the street. All we have to +do is to go to Mr. Sawyer’s office and tell him and—” + +“You have to go in first,” said Pepsy. + +Pee-wee’s enthusiasm was contagious and Pepsy was soon keyed up to the +new enterprise, even to the point of facing Mr. Sawyer. She had +cautiously resolved, however, to remain close to the door of his office, +so that she might effect a precipitate retreat at the first mention of +an orphan asylum. + +Whatever Pee-wee did must be right and she saw now that two hundred and +fifty dollars won in the twinkling of an eye was better than life spent +in the retail trade. Yet she could not help thinking wistfully and +fondly of their little enterprise and its cosy headquarters. + +They sat on a rock by the roadside waiting for the mailman’s auto to +come along. Once in that Pepsy felt that her fate would be sealed. She +had never been away from Everdoze since she had first been taken there. +Baxter City was a vast place which she had seen in her dreams, a place +where people were arrested and run over and where the constables were +dressed up like soldiers. She clung tight to Pee-wee’s hand. + +“I hate him, too,” she said, referring to Beriah Bungel, “and it will +serve him right if Whitie dies and I just hope he does, because his +father hit you.” + +“Who’s Whitie?” Pee-wee asked. + +“He’s Mr. Bungel’s little boy and he’s all white because he’s sick, and +they can’t take him to a great big place in the city so they can make +him all well again and it just serves him right and I’m glad they +haven’t got any money. Everybody says he’s going to die and Licorice +Stick knows he’s going to die in a rainstorm on a Friday, that’s what he +said.” + +This information about a little boy who was so pale that they called him +Whitie, and who was going to die in a rainstorm on a Friday was all new +to Pee-wee. + +“Licorice Stick is crazy,” he said. “What does he know about dying? He +never died, did he?” This brilliant argument appeared to impress Pepsy. + +“If they took him to a hospital in New York then he wouldn’t have to die +because they could fix him,” Pepsy said. “I heard Aunt Jamsiah say so. +There are doctors there that can fix people all well again.” + +“I bet I’m as good a fixer as they are,” Pee-wee said; “I fixed lots of +people; I fixed a whole patrol once.” + +“So they wouldn’t die?” + +“They thought they were smart but I fixed them.” + +“Fixing smarties is different,” said Pepsy. “If people have something +the matter with their hips you can’t fix them. Because, anyway, if +they’re going to die on a Friday even snail water won’t fix them.” + +“Snail water, what’s that?” + +“It’s medicine made from snails; Licorice Stick knows how to make it. +You have to stir it with a willow stick and then you get well quick.” + +“How can you get well quick when snails are slow?” Pee-wee asked. “That +shows that Licorice Stick is crazy. It would be better to make it with +lightning-bugs.” + +“Lightning-bugs mean there are ghosts around,” said Pepsy; “the +lightning-bugs are their eyes. But anyway, just the same, nobody can fix +Whitie Bungel, because the doctor from Baxter said so, and he knows +because he’s got an automobile.” + +“Automobiles don’t prove you know a lot,” said Pee-wee. + +“Just the same Whitie is going to die,” said Pepsy, “and then you’ll +see, because when my mother didn’t have any money _she_ died, so there.” + +Pee-wee did not answer; he appeared to be thinking. And so the minutes +passed as they sat there on the rock by the roadside, waiting for the +mailman’s auto to take them to Baxter City. + +“Do you say I can’t fix it?” he finally demanded. “Maybe you think +scouts can’t fix things. They know first aid, scouts do. I can fix that +little feller; maybe you think I can’t. You come with me, I’ll show you. +Scouts—scouts can do things—they’re better than snails and +lightning-bugs. I’ll show you what they can do; you come with me.” + +“Ain’t you going to wait for the mailman?” + +“No, I’m not. You come with me.” + +This apparent desertion of another cherished enterprise all in the one +day, took poor Pepsy quite by storm. She did not understand the workings +of Pee-wee’s active and fickle mind. But she followed his sturdy little +form dutifully as he trudged up the road and into a certain lane. + +On he went, like a redoubtable conqueror with Pepsy after him. To her +consternation he went straight up to the kitchen door, yes, of Constable +Beriah Bungel’s humble abode! Pepsy stood behind him in a kind of daze +and heard his resounding knock as in a dream. Then suddenly to her +dismay and terror she saw Beriah Bungel himself standing in the open +doorway looking fiercely down at the little khaki-clad scout. + +“Mr. Bungel,” she heard as she stood gaping and listening and ready to +run at the terrible official’s first move, “Mr. Bungel, if you want to +know where those two fellers are that stole the motorcycles, they’re +hiding in Kelly’s barn and I guess they’ll stay there till dark. So if +you want to go and get them you’ll get two hundred and fifty dollars as +long as you don’t say who told you where they are.” + +Without another word he turned and trudged away along the path, Pepsy +following after him, too astonished to speak. + + + + + CHAPTER XXII + + FATE IS JUST + + +On that very morning Constable Bungel performed the stupendous feat +which sent his name ringing through Borden County and established him +definitely as the Sherlock Holmes of Everdoze. + +Followed by the local citizenry, who marveled at his deductive skill, he +advanced against Kelly’s barn in the outskirts of Berryville. Here, +perceiving evidences of occupation, he demanded admittance and on being +ignored he forced an entrance and courageously arrested two young +fellows who were hiding there waiting for the night to come. + +It is painful to relate that in process of being captured one of these +youthful fugitives delivered a devastating blow upon the long nose of +the constable thereby unconsciously doing a good turn like a true scout +and repaying him in kind for his treatment of Pee-wee. + +Thus it will be seen that fate is just for, as Pee-wee explained to +Pepsy, “He got everything I wanted him to get, a punch in the nose and +two hundred and fifty dollars. And that shows how I got paid back for +doing a good turn, because if I hadn’t given up that two hundred and +fifty dollars he wouldn’t have got punched, so you see it pays to be +generous and kind like it says in the handbook.” + +The official pride of Beriah Bungel as he led his captives back to +Everdoze to await transportation to Baxter City was somewhat chilled by +the inglorious appearance of his face. There can be no pomp and dignity +in company with a wounded nose and Beriah Bungel’s nose was the largest +thing about him except his official prowess. + +“Don’t tell anybody I told him,” Pee-wee whispered to Pepsy, “or you’ll +spoil it all and they won’t give him the money.” + +“Suppose he tells himself,” Pepsy said. + +But Officer Bungel did not tell of the keen eyes and scout skill which +had put him in the way of profit and glory. For he was like the whole +race of Beriah Bungels the world over, officious, ignorant, +contemptible, grafting, shaming human nature and making thieving +fugitives look manly by comparison. + +Everdoze was greatly aroused by this epoch-making incident. Even a few +stragglers from Berryville followed the crowd back as far as Uncle +Ebenezer’s farm and Pee-wee tried to tempt them into the ways of the +spendthrift with taffy and other delights which cause the reckless to +fall. But it was of no use. + +“I bet if there was a murder we could sell a lot,” he said. “Motorcycle +thief crowds aren’t very big. If the town hall burned down I bet we’d do +a lot of business. I wish the school-house would burn down, hey? Murders +and fires, those are the best, especially murders, because lots of +people come.” + +“I like fires better,” Pepsy said. “Lots and lots and lots of people go +to fires.” + +“Yes, and they get thirsty watching them, too,” said Pee-wee. “That’s +the time to shout, ice cold lemonade.” + +There was one person in Everdoze, and only one, who neither followed nor +witnessed this triumphal march, which had something of the nature of a +pageant. This was a little lame boy, very pale, who sat in a wheel chair +on the back porch of the lowly Bungel homestead. + +The house was up a secluded lane and did not command a view of the weeds +and rocks of the main thoroughfare. This frail little boy, whose blue +veins you could follow like a trail, had never seen or heard of Pee-wee +Harris, scout of the first class (if ever there was one) and mascot of +the Raven Patrol. He had indeed heard his father speak of “cuffing a +sassy little city urchin on the ear,” but how should _he_ know that this +same sassy little urchin had thrown away two hundred and fifty dollars? + +Thrown it away? Well, let us hope not. Let us hope that those wonder +workers in the big city succeeded in “fixing” him, as indeed they must +have done, if they were as good fixers as Scout Harris. Let us hope that +Licorice Stick had gotten things wrong (as we have seen him do once +before) and that little Whitie Bungel did not die in a rainstorm on a +Friday. + + + + + CHAPTER XXIII + + WHERE THERE’S A WILL THERE’S A WAY + + +To translate some little red flashes of light and read a secret in them +was utterly beyond the comprehension of poor Pepsy. Here was a miracle +indeed, compared with which the prophecies and spooky adventures of +Licorice Stick were as nothing. And to win two hundred and fifty dollars +by such a supernatural feat was staggering to her simple mind. + +Licorice Stick’s encounters with “sperrits” had never brought him a +cent. But deliberately to sacrifice this fabulous sum in the interest of +a poor little invalid that he had never seen, made Pee-wee not only a +prophet but a saint to poor Pepsy. If scouts did things like this they +were certainly extraordinary creatures. To give two hundred and fifty +dollars to a person who has boxed your ears and then to go merrily upon +your way in quest of new triumphs, that Pepsy could not understand. + +The whole business had transpired so quickly that Pepsy had only seen +the two hundred and fifty dollars flying in the air, as it were, and now +they were poor again, even before they had realized their riches. And +there was Pee-wee sitting on the counter of their unprofitable little +roadside rest, with his knees drawn up, sucking a lemon stick (which +apparently no one else wanted) and discoursing on the subject of good +turns generally. There seemed to be nothing in his life now but the +lemon stick. + +“You think girls can’t do good turns, don’t you?” Pepsy queried +wistfully. + +Pee-wee removed the lemon stick from his mouth, critically inspecting +the sharp point which he had sucked it to. By a sort of vacuum process +he could sharpen a stick of candy till it rivaled a stenographer’s +pencil. + +“Do you know what reciprical means?” he asked with an air of concealing +some staggering bit of wisdom. + +“It’s a kind of a church,” Pepsy ventured. + +“That’s Episcopal,” Pee-wee said with withering superiority, placing the +lemon stick carefully in his mouth again. This action was followed by a +sudden depression of both cheeks, like rubber balls from which the air +has escaped. He then removed the dagger-like lemon stick again to +observe it. + +“If you have an apple and I have an apple and you give me yours, that’s +a good turn, isn’t it? And if I give you mine that’s another good turn, +isn’t it? And we’re both just as well off as we were before. That’s +recip—” He had to pause to lick some trickling lemon juice from his +chubby chin, “rical.” + +Pepsy seemed greatly impressed, and Pee-wee continued his edifying +lecture. “I should worry about two hundred and fifty dollars because you +saw how people always get paid back only sometimes it isn’t so soon like +with the apples. Everything always comes out all right,” continued the +little optimist between tremendous sucks, “and if you’re going to get a +punch in the nose you get it, and you can see how Mr. Bungel got paid +back auto—what d’you call it?” + +“Automobile?” Pepsy ventured. + +“Automatically,” Pee-wee blurted out, catching a fugitive drop of lemon +juice as it was about to leave his chin. “Good turns are the same as bad +turns, only different. Do you see? I bet you can’t say _automatically_ +while you’re sucking a lemon stick.” + +“Is it a—a scout stunt?” Pepsy asked. + +Pee-wee performed this astounding feat for her edification, catching the +liquid by-product with true scout agility. Whether from scout gallantry +or scout appetite, he did not put Pepsy to the test. + +“I’m glad of it, anyway,” she said, “because now we can stay here and +have our store and there isn’t anybody like that pros—like that Mr. +Sawyer to be afraid of.” + +“Do you think I’m afraid of prosecutors?” Pee-wee demanded to know. “I’m +not afraid of them any more than I’m afraid of June-bugs; I bet you’re +afraid of June-bugs.” + +“I’m _not_,” she vociferated, tossing her red braids and looking very +brave. + +“Then why should you be afraid of prosecutors? I wouldn’t be afraid of +anything that doesn’t sting.” + +Pepsy said nothing, only thought. And Pee-wee said nothing, only sucked +the lemon stick, observing it from time to time, as its point became +more deadly. + +“Maybe I’m not as brave as you are and can’t do things and I’m scared of +Baxter City, but I bet you I can think up as good turns as you can, so +there! And if you promise to stay here I’ll make it so lots of people +will come and you can buy the tents and that will be a good turn, won’t +it? You said if you make up your mind to do a thing you can do it.” + +“I wouldn’t take back what I said,” said Pee-wee, finishing the lemon +stick by a terrible sudden assault with his teeth. + +“Well, then, _so there_, Mr. Smarty,” she said with an air of triumph, +“I’m going to do a good turn, you see, because I made up my mind to it +good and hard, and we’ll make lots and lots of money. So do you promise +to stay here and keep on being partners? Do you cross your heart you +will?” + +If Pee-wee had been as observant of Pepsy as he was used to being of +signs along a trail he might have noticed that her eyes were all ablaze +and that her little, thin, freckly wrist trembled. But how should he +know that his own carelessly uttered words had burned themselves into +her very soul? “_If you make up your mind to do a thing you can do it._” + + + + + CHAPTER XXIV + + PEPSY’S ENTERPRISE + + +Pepsy knew the scouts only through Pee-wee. She knew they could do +things that girls could not do. She must have been deaf if she did not +hear this. She knew they walked with dauntless courage in great cities, +and that they were not afraid of prosecutors. + +They were strange, wonderful things to her. They possessed all the manly +arts and some of the womanly arts as well. They could track, swim, dive, +read strange messages in flashes of light, sacrifice appalling riches +and think nothing of it. They could cook, sew, imitate birds, and read +things in the stars. Pee-wee had not left Pepsy in the dark about any of +these matters. + +Pepsy knew that she could not aspire to be a scout. The young +propagandist had forgotten to tell her of the Girl Scouts who can do a +few things, if you please. But one thing Pepsy could do; she could +worship at the feet of his heroic legion. + +If all there was to doing things was making up your mind to do them, +then could she not do a good turn as well as a boy? Surely Scout Harris, +the wonder worker, could not be mistaken about anything. He had shown +Pepsy, conclusively, how good turns (to say nothing of bad ones) are +always paid back by an inexorable law. Punches on the nose, or kindly +acts of charity and sweet sacrifice, it was always the same.... + +Pepsy had no money invested in their unprofitable enterprise, for she +had had no money to invest. Neither had she any capital of scout +experience to draw upon. But one little nest egg she had. She had once +made a small deposit in this staunch institution of reciprocal kindness. +All by herself, and long before she had known of Pee-wee and the scouts, +she had done a good turn. + +According to the inevitable rule, which she did not doubt, the principal +and interest of this could now be drawn. Why not? Somewhere, and she +knew where, there was a good turn standing to her credit. It would be +paid her just as surely as that splendid punch in the nose was paid to +Beriah Bungel. And, using this good turn that was standing to her +credit, she would be the instrument which fate would choose, to pay +Scout Harris back for his great sacrifice of two hundred and fifty +dollars. You see how nicely everything was going to work out. + +The person who would now do Pepsy the good turn which would bring +success and fortune to their little enterprise and enable Scout Harris +to buy three tents, was Mr. Ira Jensen who lived in the big red house up +the road. A very mighty man was Mr. Ira Jensen, almost as terrible in +worldly grandeur and official power as a prosecutor. Not quite, but +almost. At all events, Pepsy could muster up courage to go and face him, +and that she was now resolved to do. + +Indeed, this had been her secret. + + + + + CHAPTER XXV + + AN ACCIDENT + + +Mr. Ira Jensen sometimes wore a white collar and he was deacon in the +church and he was the one who selected the Everdoze school teacher, and +he was president of the Borden County Agricultural Association and he +had a khaki-colored swinging-seat on his porch and muslin curtains in +his windows. So you may judge from all this what a mighty man he was. + +Such a man is not to be approached except upon a well-considered plan. +It required almost another week of idling in the refreshment parlor, of +vain hopes, and ebbing interest on the part of the scout partner, to +bring Pepsy to the state of desperation needed for her terrible +enterprise. A sudden and alarming turn of Pee-wee’s fickle mind +precipitated her action. + +“Let’s eat up all the stuff and make the summer-house into a gymnasium, +and we can give magic lantern shows in it, too. What do you say?” +Pee-wee inquired in his most enthusiastic manner. “We can charge five +cents to get in.” He did not explain whence the audiences would come. He +had found an old magic lantern in the attic and that was enough. The +only stock now on hand was what might be called the permanent stock (if +any stock could be called permanent where Pee-wee was). No longer did +the fresh, greasy doughnut and the cooling lemonade grace the forlorn +little counter. + +“No, I won’t!” Pepsy said, tossing those red braids. “I won’t eat the +things because we started here and I love them, so there!” + +“If you love them I should think you’d want to eat them,” said Pee-wee. +“That shows how much you know about logic.” + +“I don’t care, I’m just going to stay here and if you promise to wait +we’ll get lots and lots of money,” she said. “You promised me you’d +wait,” she added wistfully, “you crossed your heart. Won’t you please +wait till—till—five days—maybe? Won’t you, _please_? Maybe that will be +a good turn, maybe?” + +He did not refuse. Instead he helped himself to some gumdrops out of a +glass jar, and appeared to be content. But Pepsy knew better than to +trust the fickle heart of man and that night she played the poor little +card that she had been holding. + +After Uncle Eb and Aunt Jamsiah had gone to bed and while the curly head +of Scout Harris was reposing in sweet oblivion upon his pillow, Pepsy +crept cautiously down the squeaky, boxed-in stairs and paused, in +suspense, in the kitchen. The ticking of the big clock there seemed very +loud, almost accusing, and Pepsy’s heart seemed to keep time with it as +it thumped in her little breast. + +How different the familiar kitchen seemed, deserted and in darkness! The +two stove lids were laid a little off their places to check the banked +fire, leaving two bright crescent lines like a pair of eyes staring up +at her. This light, reflected in one of the milk pails standing inverted +on a high shelf, made a sort of ghostly mirror in which Pepsy saw +herself better than in that crinkly, outlandish mirror in her little +room. + +For a moment she was afraid to move lest she make a noise, and so she +paused, almost terrified, looking at her own homely little face, on the +most fateful night of her life. Then she tiptoed out through the pantry +where the familiar smell of fresh butter reassured her. It seemed +companionable, in the strange darkness and awful stillness, this smell +of fresh butter. She crept across the side porch where the churn stood +like a ghost, a dish-towel on its tall handle and crossed the weedy +lawn, where the beehives seemed to be watching her, and headed for the +dark, open road. + +But here her courage failed. Some thought of doing her errand in the +morning occurred to her, but she could not go then without saying where +and why she was going. And in case of failure no one must ever know +about this.... + +So she screwed up her courage and returned to the side porch to get a +lantern. She shook it and found it empty. There was nothing to do now +but brave the darkness or go down into the cellar and fill the lantern +from the big kerosene can. She paused in the darkness before those +sepulchral stone steps, then in a sudden impulse of determination she +tightened her little hand upon the lantern till her nails dug into her +palms and went down, down. + +She groped her way to the kerosene can and finally came upon it and felt +its surface. Yes, it was the kerosene can. Her trembling little hand +fumbled for the tiny faucet. How queer it felt in the dark when she +could not see it! It seemed to have a little knob or something on it.... + +Her hand was shaking but she held the little tank of the lantern under +the faucet and was about to turn the handle when something—something +soft and wet and silent—touched her other hand. She drew a quick breath, +her heart was in her mouth, her hands were icy cold. Still she had +presence of mind enough not to scream. + +But as she rose in panic terror from her stooping posture, the lantern +pulled upward against the faucet, toppling the big can off its skids. +There was no plug in the can and the kerosene flowed out upon the +terror-stricken child, wetting her shoes and stockings, and made a great +puddle on the stone floor. She stood in the darkness, seeing none of +this, which made the catastrophe the more terrible. + +And then, as she stood in terror, wet and bewildered, waiting for +whatever terrible sequel might come, she felt again that something soft +and wet and silent on her hand. She moved her hand a little and felt of +something soft—soft in a different way. Soft but not wet. + +“Wiggle,” she sobbed in a whisper; “why—why—didn’t you—you—tell me it +was you—Wiggle?” + +But he only licked her hand again as if to say, “If there is anything on +for to-night, I’m with you. Cheer up. Adventures are my middle name....” + + + + + CHAPTER XXVI + + PEPSY’S INVESTMENT + + +For a few seconds Pepsy stood in suspense amid the spreading, dripping +havoc she had caused, listening for some sound above. But the seconds +piled up into a full minute and no approaching step was heard. The +danger seemed over. + +But the very air was redolent of kerosene; she stood in a puddle of it, +and one of her stockings and both of her plain little buttoned shoes +were thoroughly wet. When she moved her toes she could feel the soppy +liquid. Oh, for a light! It would lessen her terror if she could just +_see_ what had happened and how she looked. + +She groped her way to the small oblong of lesser darkness which +indicated the open bulk-head doors, and felt better when she was in the +free open darkness of outdoors. Wiggle, seeming to know that something +unusual was happening, kept close to her heels. + +She reëntered the kitchen, where those accusing, ghostly, red slits of +eyes in the stove seemed to watch her. She fumbled nervously on the +shelf above the stove and got some matches, spilling a number of them on +the floor. She could not pause to gather them up while those red eyes +stared. + +She had planned her poor little enterprise with a view to secrecy, but +in the emergency and with the minutes passing, she did not now pause to +think or consider. Near the flour barrel hung several goodly pudding +bags, luscious reminders of Thanksgiving. Aunt Jamsiah had promised to +make a plum-pudding for Pee-wee in the largest one of these and he had +spent some time in measuring them and computing their capacity, with the +purpose of selecting the most capacious. Pepsy now hurriedly took all of +these and a kitchen apron along with them, and descended again into the +cellar. + +By the dim lantern light she lifted the fallen tank and replaced it on +its skids. Then she wiped up the floor as best she could with the +makeshift mop which had been intended to serve a better purpose. She +wiped off her soggy shoes and tried to clean that clinging oiliness from +her hands. It seemed to her as if the whole world were nothing but +kerosene. + +She did not know what to do with the drenched rags, so she took them +with her when she started again for the dark road, this time with her +two cheery companions, the lantern and Wiggle. She soon found the +dripping rags a burden and cast them from her as she passed the well. +Wiggle turned back and inspected the smelly, soggy mass, found that he +did not like it, took a hasty drink from the puddle under the well +spout, and rejoined his companion. + +It must have been close to ten o’clock when Mr. Ira Jensen, enjoying a +last smoke on his porch before retiring, saw the lantern light swinging +up his roadway. The next thing that he was aware of was the pungent odor +of kerosene borne upon the freshening night breeze. And then the little +delegation stood revealed before him, Wiggle, wagging his tail, the +lantern sputtering, and Pepsy’s head jerking nervously as if she were +trying to shake out what she had to say. + +It took Pepsy a few moments to key herself up to the speaking point. +Then she spoke tremulously but with a kind of jerky readiness suggesting +many lonely rehearsals. + +“Mr. Jensen,” she said, “I have to do a good turn and so I came to ask +you if you’ll help me and the reason I smell like kerosene is because I +tipped over the kerosene can.” This last was not in her studied part, +but she threw it in in answer to an audible sniff from Mr. Jensen. + +“You said when I came here and stayed nights when Mrs. Jensen was sick +with the flu and everybody else was sick and you couldn’t get anybody to +do—to nurse her—you remember?” She did not give him time to answer for +she knew that if she paused she could not go on. Her momentum kept her +going. “You said then—just before I went home—you’d—you said I was—you +said you’d do me a good turn some day, because I helped you. So now a +boy that’s staying with us—we have a refreshment parlor and nobody comes +to buy anything—and he wants to buy some tents and we have to make a lot +of money so will you please have them have the County Fair in Berryville +this year so lots of people will go past our summer-house? + +“We have lemonade and he calls to the people and tells them, only there +ain’t any people. But lots and lots and lots of people come to the +County Fair from all over, don’t they? So now I’d like it for you to do +me that good turn if you want to pay me back.” + +Thus Pepsy, standing tremulously but still boldly, her thin little hand +clutching the lantern, played her one card for the sake of Pee-wee +Harris, Scout. Standing there in her oil soaked gingham dress, she made +demand upon this staunch bank of known probity, for principal and +interest in the matter of the one great good turn she had done before +she had ever known of Scout Harris. It never occurred to her as she +looked with frank expectancy at Mr. Jensen that her naive request was +quite preposterous. + +To his credit be it said, Mr. Jensen did not deny her too abruptly. +Instead he spread his knees and arms and, smiling genially, beckoned her +to him. + +“I can’t, I’m all kerosene,” she said. + +“Never you mind,” he said. “You come and stand right here while I tell +you how it is.” + +So she set down the lantern and stepped forward and stood between his +knees and then he lifted her into his lap. “Well, well, well, you’re +quite a girl; you’re quite a little girl, ain’t you, huh? So you came +all the way in the dark to ask me that! Here, you sit right where you +are and never you mind about kerosene; if you ain’t scared of the dark I +reckon I ain’t scared of kerosene. Now, I want you should listen ’cause +I’m going to tell you jes’ how it is n’ then you’ll understand. Because +I call you a little kind of a—a herro-ine, that’s what I call you.” + +He wasn’t half wrong about that, either.... + + + + + CHAPTER XXVII + + SEEN IN THE DARK + + +So then he told her how it was about the County Fair, which shortly +would open. He told her very gently and kindly how Northvale had been +chosen because it was the county seat and how he was powerless to change +the plans. + +He looked around into her sober face, and sometimes lifted it to his, +and at almost every hope-blighting sentence, asked her if she did not +understand. He told her all about how county fairs are big things, +planned by many men, months and months in advance. And at each pause and +each gently asked question she nodded silently, as if it was all quite +clear and plausible, but her heart was breaking. + +“But I’m not going to forget that good turn I owe you, no, siree,” he +added finally as he set her down on the porch, much to Wiggle’s relief. +“And I’m coming down the road to pay you a visit n’ look over that +refreshment store of yours n’ see if I can’t make some suggestions +maybe. Now, what do you say to that?” + +Pepsy nodded soberly, her thoughts far away. + +“You’ll see me along there,” Mr. Jensen added cheerily, as he patted her +little shoulder, “n’ I give you fair warning I’m the champion doughnut +eater of Borden County.” + +She smiled, still wistfully, and gulped, oh ever so little. + +“That’s what I am,” he added with another genial pat. “So now you cheer +up and run back home and go to bed n’ don’t you lie awake crying. You +tell that little scout feller I’m coming to make you a visit n’ that I +usually drink nine glasses of lemonade. Now you run along and get to bed +quick.” + +“Thanks,” she said, her voice trembling. + +So Pepsy took her way silently along the dark road. Her bank had failed, +she could do nothing more. This was a strange sequel to follow Pee-wee’s +glowing representations about good turns. She did not understand it. And +now that she had failed, the catastrophe in the cellar loomed larger, +and she saw her nocturnal truancy as a serious thing. What would Aunt +Jamsiah think of this? Pepsy had been forbidden to go away from the farm +at night, except to weekly prayer meeting. + +The crickets sang cheerily as she returned along the dark road, a +disconsolate little figure, swinging her lantern. She was weary—weary +from exertion and disappointment and foreboding. Her good scout +enterprise was suddenly changed into an act of sneaking disobedience. +The physical exhaustion which follows nervous strain was upon her now +and her little feet lagged in their soaking shoes and once or twice she +stumbled with fatigue. For what burden is heavier than a heavy heart? +The soothing voices of insect life which soften the darkness and cheer +the wayfarer in the countryside seemed only to mock her with their +myriad care-free songs. And to make matters worse there suddenly rang in +her ears from far over to the west the loud clatter of those loose +planks on the old bridge along the highway, as a car sped over it: + + “You have to go back, + You have to go back.” + +Then the noise ceased suddenly, and there was no sound but the calling +of a screech-owl somewhere in the intervening woods. + +Pepsy sat down on a rock by the roadside partly to rest and partly +because she did not want to go home. She knew, or she ought to have +known, that Aunt Jamsiah was pretty sure to be lenient about a harmless +transgression with so generous a motive. But the warning voice from that +unseen bridge disconcerted her. It was not long after she was seated +that her head hung down and soon the gentle comforter of sleep came to +her and she lay there, pillowing her head on her little thin arm. + +But the comforter did not stay long, for Pepsy dreamed a dream. She +dreamed that all the people of the village, Simeon Drowser, Nathaniel +Knapp, Darius Dragg, the sneering Deadwood Gamely, and even the +faithless Arabella Bellison, the school teacher, were pointing fingers a +yard long at her and saying, “You have to go back to the big brick +building. You have to go back, you have to go back.” On the big doughnut +jar in the “refreshment parlor” sat Licorice Stick saying, “You have to +go back the next time it thunders.” She shook her fist at Licorice Stick +and called him a Smarty and said she would _not_ go back, but they all +laughed and sang: + + “You have to go back, + You have to go back.” + +Miss Bellison was the worst of all.... + + “You have to go back, + You have to—” + +With a sudden start Pepsy sat up on the rock, wide awake, + + “—go back, + You have to go back.” + +She still heard. + +Her forehead throbbed and her face felt very hot. There was a ringing in +her ears. She was feverish, but she did not know that. All she knew was +that everybody was against her and that the bridge had put them up to +it. She was dizzy and had to put her hand on the rock to steady herself. + +The lantern light was extinguished but she did not remember the lantern, +or Wiggle. She felt very strange and wanted a drink of water. Her hand +trembled and her little arm with which she braced herself against the +rock, felt weak. And her head throbbed, throbbed.... + +Where were all those people? She felt around for them. Then she heard +the voice again, far off through the woods, up along that highway. It +was just an innocent automobile, + + “You have to go back.” + +Pepsy rose to her feet with a start, reeled, reached for a tree, and +clutched it. “I’ll stop it, I’ll—I’ll make it—it stop—I’ll tear it—I’ll +pull them off,” she said. “I—I _won’t_—go back—I _won’t_, I _won’t_, I +_won’t_!” + +Staggering across the road she entered the woods. Each tree there seemed +like two trees. She groped her way among them, dizzy, almost falling. +Sometimes the woods seemed to be moving. Perhaps it was by the merest +chance that she stumbled into the trail which led through the woods to +the highway, ending close to the old bridge. + +But once in the familiar path she ran in a kind of frenzy. No doubt the +fever gave her a kind of temporary, artificial strength, as indeed it +gave her the crazy resolve somehow to still that haunting voice forever. +Crazed and reeling she stumbled and ran along, pausing now and again to +press her throbbing head, then running on again like one possessed. + +At last she came out of the woods suddenly on to the broad, smooth +highway. There was the bridge, silent and—no, not dark. For there was a +bright spot somewhere underneath it and gray smoke wriggling up through +those cracks between the planks. And there, yes, there, crawling away in +the darkness was a black figure. A silent, stealthy figure, stealing +away. + +To the dazed, feverish girl, the figure seemed to have two pairs of +arms. She tried to call but could not. Her scream of delirious fright +died away into a murmur as she staggered and fell prone upon the ground +and knew no more. + +But never again—never, _never_ would those cruel planks taunt her with +their heartless prediction. Never would they frighten the poor, +sensitive, fearful little red-headed orphan girl any more. + + + + + CHAPTER XXVIII + + STOCK ON HAND + + +It was Joey Burnside, the burliest and heartiest of the volunteer +firemen, who carried Pepsy back through the woods to the farm while +still the conflagration was at its height. + +There was not timber enough left from the old bridge to kindle a scout +camp-fire. A few charred remnants had gone floating down the stream and +these fugitive remnants drifting into tiny coves and lodging in the +river’s bends were shown by the riverside dwellers as memorials of the +event which had stirred the countryside more than any other item of +neighborhood history. Under the gaping space of disconnected road the +stream flowed placidly, uninterrupted by all the recent hubbub above it. +The straight highway looked strange without the bridge. + +Pepsy had a fever all that night, but toward morning she fell asleep, +and Aunt Jamsiah, who had watched her through the night, tiptoed into +the little room under the eaves and out again to tell Pee-wee that he +had better wait, that all Pepsy needed now was rest. + +“Can’t I just look at her?” Pee-wee asked. + +So he was allowed to stand in the doorway and see his partner as she lay +there sleeping the good sleep of utter exhaustion. + +“When she wakes up,” Aunt Jamsiah said pleasantly. + +Pee-wee knew the circumstances of her being found at the burning bridge +and brought home, but he asked no questions and Aunt Jamsiah said +nothing of the events of that momentous night. It seemed to be generally +understood that this matter was in Aunt Jamsiah’s hands for thorough +consideration later. + +Meanwhile Pee-wee went across the lawn and down the road to the scene of +their hapless enterprise. The roadside rest could boast now of but two +jars, one of peppermint sticks and one of gumdrops (both in rapid +process of consumption) and a number of spools of tire tape. But the +absence of doughnuts and sausages and lemonade, this was nothing. It was +the absence of Pepsy that counted. + +Pee-wee took his customary eye-opener, consisting of a gumdrop. He had +to shake the jar to get a red one, that being the kind he preferred. +Then he drew his legs up on the counter and proceeded to work upon the +willow whistle he was making. + +His handiwork soon reached that stage of manufacture where it was +necessary to soak the willow bark in water, so as to cause it to swell. +He thereupon distributed the remaining gumdrops impartially between his +mouth and his trousers’ pocket and filled the empty jar with water, +dropping his handiwork into it. Thus by gradual stages and without any +sensational “closing out sales” the refreshment business was steadily +going into a state of liquidation, even the lemon sticks being reduced +to a liquid. There was no stock on hand now but two peppermint sticks +and some tire tape. + +Suddenly a most astonishing thing happened. The sound of an automobile +horn was heard in the distance. A deep, melodious, dignified horn. Not +since the passing of the six merry maidens had such welcome music +sounded in Pee-wee’s enraptured ears. + +The signs had all been made right, the ice cream had been made cold, the +sausages hot, and the ground glass had been put where it belonged. No +longer did “our taffy stick like glue.” Indeed, there was no taffy of +any kind on hand, notwithstanding these blatant announcements. + +Along came the automobile, an eight-cylinder Super Junkster. And, yes, +it was followed by another, and still another! Pee-wee could see the +imposing procession as far down as the bend. + +“Some detour,” a good-natured voice said. + +“Detour? _Detour_?” Pee-wee whispered in sudden and terrible excitement. +Then, as the full purport of the staggering truth burst upon him he +issued forth from the roadside rest and contemplated the approaching +pageant with joy bubbling up like soda water in his heart. + +“Never mind,” said another voice, “we can get some eats in this jungle, +thank goodness. What I won’t do to a couple of hot frankfurters!” + +A sudden chill cooled the fresh enthusiasm of Scout Harris. + +“I’ll buy every blamed doughnut they’ve got in the place,” somebody +shouted. “We won’t leave a thing for the rest of the cars that have to +plow through this jungle. I suppose this is what motorists will be up +against for six months. What do you know about that? This eats merchant +ought to clear a couple of million. I’ll dicker with him for everything +hot that he’s got, I’m starving.” + +“Same here!” another shouted. + +Frantically, like a soldier waving his country’s emblem in the last +desperate moment of forlorn hope, Scout Harris clambered over the +counter and grasped the jar containing two peppermint sticks. + +“Peppermint sticks! Peppermint sticks!” he shouted at the advancing +column. “Get your peppermint sticks! They quench thirst and—and—and +satisfy your hunger! They’re filling! They warm you up! Peppermint is +hot! _Oh_, get your peppermint sticks here!” + + + + + CHAPTER XXIX + + INDUSTRIAL CONDITIONS + + +Pee-wee emerged safely, if not triumphantly, from this ordeal amid much +laughter, and was just congratulating himself upon his skillful handling +of “the trade” in a period of acute shortage when he received a knockout +blow. In depositing the trifling price of the peppermint sticks in his +trousers pocket, he discovered there four gumdrops glued together and +clinging so affectionately that nothing could part them. + +At the moment of this discovery, Scout Harris, thus driven into a corner +and standing at bay with nothing but one huge, consolidated gumdrop for +defense, heard the unmistakable sound of another car crawling over the +rocks and hubbles of that outlandish road in second gear. On, on, on, it +came like some horrible British tank. + +And now again he heard voices, “We can eat about twenty of them in my +patrol; y-mm. Are we hungry? Oh, no! Hot frankfurters! Oh, _boy_, lead +me to them. I could even eat the sign, I’m so hungry. Put her in high. +What do we care about the road?” + +Pee-wee listened and waited in terrible suspense. Scouts! He knew +something about the scout capacity. Then, upon the fresh morning air +there floated another voice calling a sentence which he knew too well; +it was the good scout motto. + +“Hey there, you, whoever you are, Mr. Refreshment Man? _Be Prepared!_ +We’re s-c-o-u-t-s, we are, and we’re h-u-n-g-r-e-e! We haven’t had +anything since breakfast at four-thirty. We had to come around through +this rocky tour or detour or whatever you call it. Somebody ate the +bridge last night. Are there any scouts down in this South African +backyard?” + +If Pee-wee had not heard that familiar motto “Be Prepared,” he would +have known the approaching caravan to be scouts by their talk and +banter. + +_Be Prepared._ Pee-wee glanced at the bare counter and the empty jars +and the shiny dishpan which held nothing but Pepsy’s ball of worsted and +the terrible ornamental thing that she was knitting. There they were, +just as she had laid them the day before. Poor little Pepsy.... + +Then they descended upon him as only hungry scouts can descend. +Pee-wee’s glowing promises which decorated the woods (and which he could +not fulfill) had brought the party to a state of distraction. It was a +big Crackerjack touring car overflowing with scouts and driven by a +smiling scoutmaster. It seemed as if they ought to have been pressed in +and down with a shovel, like ice cream in a quart box. + +“For the love of—” one of them began. + +“Look what’s here, it’s a _scout_.” + +“That?” shouted another. “Let’s have the magnifying glass, will you?” + +Pee-wee straightened himself up to his full height. The big Crackerjack +touring car stopped. + +“_Some_ detour,” the scoutmaster said with an air of infinite relief. + +“Do they have scouts down here?” a member of the party asked. + +“I’m only staying here, I belong in Bridgeboro, New Jersey,” Pee-wee +said. + +“Don’t talk about bridges,” another scout said. + +“Talk about something pleasant. A scout is supposed to save life, scout +law number six; let’s have a couple of thousand hot dogs, will you? +We’re dying. And forty-eleven dozen doughnuts with the holes removed.” + +“Do you—I—eh—do you—need any tire tape?” Pee-wee stammered, playing for +time. + +“Tire tape! What do you take us for? A lot of blow-outs? Let’s have some +eats and _we’ll_ take care of the blow-out.” + +“Come on, hurry up, a scout is supposed to be prepared,” piped up a +natty scout wearing the bronze cross. + +“Where’s all the food?” the scoutmaster asked, glancing at the empty +counter. “We were led to suppose—” + +“Don’t you know what a shortage is?” Pee-wee piped up in sheer +desperation. + +“We know what a _shorty_ is,” one of the party shot back. + +“You don’t expect us to eat a shortage, do you?” another said. “Come +ahead, hurry up, a scout isn’t supposed to be cruel. You can always +depend on scout signs that you find in the woods. A scout that puts +scout signs—” + +“Those are different kinds of signs!” Pee-wee shouted. “Those are trail +signs. You think you’re so smart! That shows how much you know +about—about—” + +“Three strikes out,” one of the scouts shouted. “About—about industrial +conditions,” Pee-wee concluded. “Don’t you know what a—a—what d’you call +it—a—” + +“Yes, that’s what you call it,” a scout laughed. “Don’t you know what a +reconstruction period is?” Pee-wee fairly yelled, amid uncontrollable +laughter. “If something happens like a war—or a—a bridge burning down—or +something—or other—that makes business conditions—what d’you call it—it +makes them all kind of upside down, doesn’t it? Sometimes—kind of—things +are hard to get. Everybody knows that.” + +“We can see it,” a scout said. + +By this time the scoutmaster was laughing heartily but with the greatest +good humor. Pee-wee continued bravely, to the great amusement of the +party. + +“Gee whiz, nobody ever came along this road. You admit that scouts are +hungry, don’t you?” + +“We _proclaim_ it,” said the scoutmaster. + +“I ate a lot of the stuff and my aunt wouldn’t cook any more stuff for +us because nobody ever came and it got stale and I ate too much of it, +that’s what she said. So now, anyway, we’re going to start in again +because the business world—and we’re—we’re going to speed up +production.” + +“All right, speed up the auto and good luck to you,” the scout with the +bronze cross said. He seemed to be a patrol leader. + +There was a little fraternal chat before this boisterous troop moved on +and all seemed interested in Pee-wee and his enterprise. They were on +their way to camp somewhere down the line. + +“You’ll succeed all right,” they called back to him, “only be sure to +have plenty of stuff on hand when we come back in a couple of weeks or +we’ll kill you.” + +“Do you like waffles and honey?” the proprietor shouted after them. + +“We’ve got the bees working overtime for us,” a scout called back. + +“I’ll have a lot of those—ten cents each,” Pee-wee announced. “Do you +like clam chowder?” he called, raising his voice to cover the increasing +distance. + +“Don’t you make us hungry,” one called back. “Good luck to you, you’ll +make it a go all right.” + +“I’m lucky, I always have good luck,” the small optimist screamed at the +top of his voice. “Do you like peanut taffy? Do you like hot corn,” he +added, fairly yelling this sudden inspiration after the departing +sufferers; “with butter and pepper on it; do you like that? I’ll have +some!” + +These were the last words they heard as the big car moved slowly over +the rocky, grass-grown road. They are good words to end a chapter +with—hot corn with pepper and butter on it.... + +Oh, boy! + + + + + CHAPTER XXX + + PAID IN FULL + + +Pee-wee was just about to make a frantic rush to the house when he saw +another automobile coming along the road, brushing the projecting +foliage aside as some stealthily advancing creature might do. Not far +behind it he could hear other cars grinding along that impossible road +in second gear. + +The world seemed to be making a pathway, or rather a highway, to +Pee-wee’s door. The sequestered, overgrown road, with its intertwined +and overarching boughs, was become a surging thoroughfare. The birds, +formally unmolested in their wonted haunts, complained to one another of +this sudden intrusion into their domains. + +Away back where this obscure road branched off the highway to furnish +the unfrequented access to Everdoze and Berryville, a sign had been +placed that morning with an arrow pointing toward the depths of the +Everdoze jungle. + + DETOUR ⇾ + HIGHWAY CLOSED. FOLLOW + YELLOW ARROWS. + +These yellow arrows appeared at intervals along the Everdoze road, thus +guiding the motorist back to the highway at a point a mile or two below +the gap where the bridge had been. Everdoze was on the map now in dead +earnest. The little hamlet nestling in its wooded valley was destined to +review such a procession of Pierce-Arrows, and Packards, and Cadillacs, +aye and Fords and jitney busses, as it had never dreamed of in all its +humble career. + +Who was responsible for this? Or was accident responsible? Who, if +anyone, by the mere touching of a match had started a blaze which would +illuminate poor little Everdoze? Everdoze had gone to bed (at eight P. +M.) in obscurity. It had awakened to find itself dragged into the light +of day. Already Constable Bungel was devising a formidable code of +“traffic regulations”—traps and snares to catch the prosperous and make +them pay tribute as they passed along. + +As early as seven o’clock that vigilant agent of the peace had placed a +sign in front of the post office (where he was wont to loiter) reading, +“NO PARKING HERE.” But all the while he hoped that the unwary would park +there and pay the three dollars and costs. + +But of all the signs which appeared in Everdoze on that day when fate, +like an alarm clock, had awakened it out of its slumber, there was one +which thrilled the soul of Pee-wee Harris and caused consternation to +everybody else. This appeared in front of the “Taown Hall” and at a +number of other strategic places in and out of the village. + +“Come and read it! _Come and read it!_” shouted little Silas Knapp as he +madly intercepted Pee-wee who, as I have said, was about to run to the +house. “It’s a monolopy or somethin’ like that—Mr. Browser says so! Come +and read it!” + +So before going to the house Pee-wee went and read it. He did not know +that the stern phraseology had been penned ever so tenderly and with a +twinkle in the eye of the writer. He did not know that it was a tribute +(or shall we say the repayment of a good turn?) to the little red-headed +girl, who, all unaware of this hubbub, was sleeping in her little +bedroom under the eaves. Strange that such a little girl could thus +shake her fist by proxy at the grasping villagers! + + NOTICE + + The property on both sides of the road from two miles north of the + Everdoze line to the boundary of Ebenezer Quig’s farm, is of + private ownership. + + Any one attempting to sell or vend or who erects any tent or shack + for such purpose upon said property will be prosecuted to the full + extent of the law. + + Ira C. Jensen. + +So Pepsy had kept her word after all, her one poor little investment of +kindness had paid a hundred percent dividend, and the partners were the +owners of a _monopoly_, or a monolopy, whichever you choose to call it. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXI + + CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE + + +Along the road and over the stone wall and straight across the bed of +tiger-lilies sped Pee-wee, using his own particular mode of scout pace, +patent not applied for. Across the side porch and into the kitchen he +went, pell-mell, shouting in a voice to crack the heavens. + +“It’s a monolopy—I mean a monopoly! We’ve got a monopoly! Where’s +everybody? Hey, Aunt Jamsiah, where are you? Where’s Uncle Eb? Hurry up +and make some doughnuts? There’s a detour! Cars—hundreds of cars—from +the highway—they’re coming along the road. You ought to see. Where’s the +ice-pick? Can I have some lemons? Are there any cookies left? I left two +on the plate last night. Where’s the sugar so I can—” + +He paused in his frenzy of haste and enthusiasm as Aunt Jamsiah opened +the sitting room door, very quietly and seriously. + +“Shh, come in here, Walter,” she said. + +Her manner, kind, gentle, but serious, disconcerted Pee-wee and chilled +his enthusiasm. The very fact that he was summoned into the sitting room +seemed ominous for that holy of holies was never used; not more than +once or twice in Pee-wee’s recollection had his own dusty shoes stood +upon that sacred oval-shaped rag carpet. Never before had he found +himself within reaching distance of that plush album that stood on its +wire holder on the marble table. + +This solemn apartment was the only room in the house that had a floor +covering and the fact that Pee-wee could not hear his own foot-falls +agitated him strangely. Uncle Eb sat in the corner near the melodeon +looking strangely out of place in his ticking overalls. + +“Is—is she—dead?” Pee-wee whispered fearfully. + +“Sit down, Walter,” said Aunt Jamsiah; “no, she isn’t dead, she’s +better.” + +Uncle Eb said nothing, only watched Pee-wee keenly. + +Pee-wee seated himself, feeling very uncomfortable. + +“Walter,” said his aunt, “something very serious has happened and I’m +going to ask one or two questions. You will tell me the truth, won’t +you?” + +“I’ll answer fer him doin’ that,” said Uncle Eb. + +“Sure I will,” said Pee-wee proudly. + +“Walter, do you know what Pepsy’s secret was? You remember she said she +had a secret that would make lots and lots of people come and buy things +from you?” + +“Girls are—” Pee-wee began. He was going to say they were crazy, but +remembering the one that lay upstairs he caught himself up and said, +“they’re kind of—they think they have big ideas when they haven’t. I +should worry about their secrets.” + +“But some of Pepsy’s ideas and plans have been very big, Walter,” his +aunt said ruefully. “You see we know her better than you do. She’s very, +_very_ queer; I’m afraid no one understands her.” + +“I understand her,” said Pee-wee. “She believes in bad luck days.” + +Aunt Jamsiah paused a moment, considering; then she went straight to the +point. “Pepsy wants to do right, dear, but she will do wrong in order to +do right—sometimes. We have always been a little fearful of her for that +reason. She—she can’t argue in her own mind and consider things as—as +you do.” + +“I know lots of dandy arguments,” Pee-wee announced. + +“You know, Walter, her father was a—he was a—not a very good man. And +Pepsy is—queer. Last night she made a dreadful mess in the cellar. She +was at the kerosene; oh, it makes me just sick to think of it. She had +some rags soaked with kerosene. Some of them were found out by the well. +The others—” Aunt Jamsiah lifted her handkerchief to her eyes and wept +for a moment, silently. + +“What others?” Pee-wee asked. + +“The ones that were used to set fire to the bridge, dear. Oh, it’s +terrible to think of it. Poor, _poor_ Pepsy. That is what is bringing +_lots and lots_ of people along our road to-day, Walter. Pepsy was found +lying unconscious near the bridge. She had kerosene all over her. One +charred rag was found over there. It just makes me—it makes me—” + +Pee-wee arose and laid one hand on the back of the hair-cloth chair. He, +too, was concerned now. + +“You—you didn’t tell her—you didn’t blame—accuse her—did you?” he asked. + +“No, I didn’t,” his aunt breathed worriedly. “I asked her to tell me all +about last night and she would tell me nothing. She said that the planks +on the bridge tormented her. To almost everything I asked her she said, +‘I won’t tell.’ She is very, _very_ stubborn; she was always so.” + +“Because, anyway,” Pee-wee said, alluding to his former query, “if +anybody says she burned down the bridge on purpose it’s a lie. I don’t +care who says it, it’s a lie. She’s—she’s my partner—and it’s a lie. +If—even—if the minister says it, it’s a lie!” + +“Listen, my dear boy,” said his aunt kindly. “I’m not angry with Pepsy, +poor child. I’m not accusing her, and you mustn’t talk about the Rev. +Mr. Gloomer telling lies. Pepsy tried to burn down the orphan home once, +for some trifling grievance. We can’t take the responsibility of the +poor child any longer. I’m afraid that any minute Beriah Bungel will +want to take her—arrest her. I know she’s your partner, dear, but it +would be better for us to send her back to the state home where she will +probably be kept than to let her be arrested. I don’t think she knew +what she was doing, poor, poor child—” + +Aunt Jamsiah broke down completely, crying in her handkerchief. So Uncle +Eb finished what little there was to say. + +“We had to send fer ’em, Walter,” said he. “She’ll be better off there +fer a spell, I reckon. I ain’t so sure about her doin’ it, though it +looks bad. Leastways, she didn’t know what she was doing. But don’t you +worry—” + +Pee-wee did not wait to hear more. He just could not stand there. + +“When—when are they—coming?” he asked. + +“I reckon to-morrow, boy. Now, you look here—” + +But Pee-wee had gone. + +Up the narrow, boxed-in stairs he went, never asking permission. He +could see nothing but a big enclosed wagon, dark inside, with Pepsy +inside it. He had no more idea what he was going to do that day than the +man in the moon. But he knew what he was going to do that very minute. +When a scout makes up his mind to do a thing.... + +Into the little room under the eaves he strode, his eyes glistening, but +his heart staunch and his resolve indomitable. And she smiled when she +saw him. She was sitting up and she looked ever so little in her +nightclothes and ever so plain with her tightly braided red hair. But +her eyes were clear and she smiled when she looked at him.... + +“I won’t tell anybody where I went,” she said, “because I was a smarty +and I thought I could make somebody do a good turn ever so—_ever so +big_. And they’d only laugh at me if I told them what it was. So I’m not +going to be a tell-tale cat.” + +“Pep,” he said, “it shows that you’re right because lots and lots of +automobiles are coming along our road since the old bridge burned down +and it’s a detour and that means hundreds and hundreds of them have to +go past our refreshment place and we’re going to make lots of money. And +I thought of a dandy idea, it’s what they call an inspiration. We’re +going to name the place Pepsy Rest, because Pepsy will remind people to +buy chewing gum, because that has pepsin in it and as soon as you’re all +well we’ll start in and keep on being partners, because we have a +monopoly. Do you know what that is? It’s when you can sell all you want +of something and nobody else can sell it. See? + +“Mr. Jensen, he put up a sign, and he said no one should sell things on +his property and he owns all the property along the road, and you bet +everybody is scared of _him_. So now we’re going to have a great big +business and we began as poor boys, I mean girls, I mean a boy and a +girl. So don’t you believe anything that anybody tells you, not even—not +even Aunt Jamsiah. Because you know how I told you I was a good fixer +and I’m always lucky, you have to admit that.” + +“Can I be the one to count the money?” Pepsy asked. + +“Sure, and I’ll be the one to eat what’s left of the things that won’t +keep,” said Pee-wee. “Only don’t you worry no matter what you hear—” + +She was on the point of telling him how Mr. Jensen had done his good +turn after all, and all about what she remembered of the previous night. +But she decided that she was not going to have a boy laughing at her and +put it within his power to call her a tell-tale cat some day. So instead +she threw her arms around him and said, “_Oh goody, goody!_” + +You know how girls do. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXII + + THE CLEW + + +Pee-wee never knew until now how much he cared about his little +companion of the summer and how little he cared about their roadside +enterprise except so far as she was concerned in it. + +All morning the almost continuous procession passed along the road +reviewed by a gaping assemblage on the platform in front of the post +office. Many motorists who read the enticing promises along the way +paused for refreshment only to find the little rustic shelter bare and +deserted. + +But they were not the only ones to be disappointed. Upon the front porch +of Doctor Killem’s house there sat in a wheel chair the queerest little +figure ever seen outside of a soup advertisement. He was of the kewpie +type, all head and eyes, and he had a kind of ridiculous air of stern +authority about him as he sat all bundled up in blankets soberly +reviewing the passing cars. So odd and gnomelike was he that he might +have stepped out of the pages of “Alice in Wonderland.” He would have +made a good radiator ornament on an automobile. + +This, you will know, was little Whitie Bungel, who seemed not at all +disconcerted at being elsewhere than in his own home. He had been moved +about so much without any exertion on his own part that he was quite at +home anywhere. + +Though Pee-wee had spoken in high hope to Pepsy about their unexpected +and glowing prospects, he was haunted by thoughts of the terrible thing +which was to happen on the morrow. Pepsy was to be taken away, back to +the big brick building which she hated, just as the planks of the old +bridge had foretold. + +Pee-wee’s loyalty was so staunch that he did not even consider the +things his aunt had said. He was going to save Pepsy from that place and +make her the sharer of the fortune that was within their grasp. He made +this resolve with the same generous impulse as that which had caused him +to put two hundred and fifty dollars within the reach of Mr. Bungel who +had boxed his ears. + +“I’m lucky,” he said to himself as he trudged down to the post office; +“I’ll fix things all right. I’ll show them; I don’t care, I’ll show +them. They won’t take her back to that place, not while I’m around.” + +He did not know how he was going to prevent this but he had unbounded +faith in his capacity to fix things and in his good luck. + +So, as he trudged along, stepping out of the way of many cars, he came +to the home of Doctor Killem. + +“Hello, soldier,” piped up a little thin voice upon the porch. + +“I’m not a soldier,” said Pee-wee. + +“My father can arrest people,” said the little gnome, looking straight +ahead of him. + +“That doesn’t prove I’m a soldier,” said Pee-wee. + +“You’ve got a uniform,” said the gnome. “I’m not afraid of soldiers. My +father’s got a lot of money, he’s got two hundred and fifty dollars and +I’m not going to get dead.” + +“Where’s your father?” Pee-wee asked. + +“He’s up the road and he’s going to catch people and put them in jail.” + +“Is he?” + +“Why do you say ‘Is he?’ I didn’t go to the hospital last night. Do you +want to know why?” He asked questions as if they were riddles. + +“Yes, why?” Pee-wee asked, half interested. + +“Because the bridge burned down. Do you like bridges?” + +“It isn’t a question of whether a person likes them or not,” Pee-wee +said, preoccupied with his own sorrow and worry, yet amused in spite of +himself at this queer little fellow. + +“Yes it is,” said Whitie Bungel. + +“All right then, it is,” said Pee-wee. + +“Why did you say it wasn’t?” + +“Oh, I don’t know, I guess I was thinking of something else.” + +“What were you thinking of?” + +“Oh, I don’t know—nothing.” + +“Why did you say you were?” + +“You didn’t tell me about why you didn’t go to the hospital last night.” + +“I can see things that other folks can’t see,” Whitie announced. + +“You’re like Licorice Stick,” said Pee-wee. + +“He’s black,” Whitie said. + +“I know he is.” + +“Then how am I like him? I’m white. My name is Whitie.” + +Pee-wee felt like a prisoner at the bar of justice with this little +personage swathed in blankets, staring down at him. His wrappings +covered his neck and all that could be seen of him was his face, +perfectly motionless. Finally he said as if he were pronouncing +sentence. + +“Doctor Killem took me in his auto. We had to turn around and come back +when we came to the bridge burning down. He’s going to take me another +way. I saw a man getting dead.” + +“Where?” Pee-wee asked, his interest somewhat aroused. + +“Will you give me that tin thing if I tell you?” + +“That isn’t a tin thing, it’s a compass, it tells you which way to go.” + +“Can it talk?” + +“No, it can’t talk.” + +“Then how can it tell you?” + +“It points its finger.” + +“You’re crazy.” + +“All right,” Pee-wee laughed in spite of himself. “You tell me about the +man getting dead and I’ll give you the tin thing.” + +“He was lying down in the bushes and wriggling.” + +“Where? Near the bridge?” Pee-wee asked. + +“Doctor Killem didn’t see him and he laughed at me. He said I was seeing +things. Can you wriggle? I looked back out of the window and saw him.” + +“Did you tell your father about it?” Pee-wee asked, hardly knowing what +to think of this information. + +“My mother made him give her the two hundred and fifty dollars so I +wouldn’t get dead. Do you know what I’m going to be when I grow up?” + +“No; what?” + +“A giant.” + +“Well, you’d better hurry up about it.” + +“Do you know where my father got that two hundred and fifty dollars?” + +“Where?” + +“It was a prize for catching thieves. _You_ can’t catch thieves.” + +“I know it,” Pee-wee said. + +“Are you going to be a thief when you grow up?” + +“No, I guess not,” said Pee-wee. + +“You can have three guesses.” + +“All right, I guess not three times. Now, tell me if you told your +father about seeing that man getting dead.” + +“Yes, and he said I’m always seeing things; everybody says that. Maybe +I’ll get dead when it rains.” + +“Don’t you believe it,” Pee-wee said; “Licorice Stick’s been telling you +that. Didn’t you say you were going to be a giant first?” + +“You’re not a giant.” + +Alas, Pee-wee knew this only too well. He knew too that it would be +quite impossible to get anything in the way of a connected narrative out +of this stern little autocrat. Whether he had actually been “seeing +things” or had only seen something in his queer little inner life, who +should say? Evidently no one took him very seriously. And this fact did +not seem to trouble him at all. + +Removing the compass cord from about his neck, Pee-wee advanced to +proffer his second gift to the Bungel family. Little did that stiff, +serious little figure know that the much-needed money which Mrs. Bungel +had been wise enough to take from her husband, had come from the same +source. Pee-wee searched in vain for any sign of hands in those +enveloping blankets. There were no hands, there seemed to be no body +even; just two eyes looking straight ahead as if their owner were not +going to assist at all in the transfer of the little gift. So Pee-wee +laid the compass on the porch rail. + +“There you are,” he said; “that needle always points to the north.” + +The two severe eyes stared down at the compass on the rail but their +owner made no attempt to reach it as Pee-wee started off. If Pee-wee had +not been so worried and preoccupied he would have thought that he had +never seen anything so absurdly amusing in all his life. + +“Come back and say good-by,” the little voice commanded. + +Pee-wee returned and stood in the exact spot where he had stood before +and said, “Good-by.” Although the little pale face did not turn the +fraction of an inch, the staring eyes followed Pee-wee as he went along +the road. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXIII + + THE TRAMPLED TRAIL + + +Pee-wee felt as if he were emerging from some enchanted spot in the +“Arabian Nights,” abounding with giants and men “getting dead.” He had +no more belief in what this imperious little imp had told him than he +had in the predictions of Licorice Stick, or the homely superstitions of +Pepsy. + +Indeed, if he had thought seriously of these erratic snapshot bits of +information about figures wriggling in the dark and “getting dead” he +would never have mentioned these things to Licorice Stick whom he ran +plunk into as that aggregation of rags and nonsense sat upon a stone +wall up the road engaged in the profitable occupation of watching the +passing cars. Licorice Stick’s business was contemplating the world and +he always attended strictly to business. + +“Lordy me!” he said, rolling his eyes, “you don’ go nowheres that kid ’e +tell you. Dat wrigglin’ man, he no man, he a sperrit. Don’ you go near +dat bridge, you get a spell. Yo keep away f’m dat bridge.” + +How much this had to do with Pee-wee’s actually going to the scene of +the fire it would be hard to say. If he had not talked with Whitie he +probably would not have gone. At all events, he had nothing else to do +and he wanted to think. So he followed the trail through the woods to +the highway. + +It seemed quite probable that Whitie’s jerky sentences were about true, +that the doctor had been compelled to turn back by reason of the burning +bridge. The fact that Whitie was holding his imperial court on the +doctor’s porch made this part of his story seem true. + +Perhaps it would be about right to say that little Whitie’s spasmodic +announcements directed Pee-wee in his idle wanderings on that morning +when he was fearful and sick at heart. + +Long afterwards he remembered with interest that it was little Whitie +Bungel (for whose recovery he had sacrificed two hundred and fifty +dollars and not a little glory) who put him in the way of the terrible +discovery that he made on that fateful day. And the funny thing about it +was that the little gnome had given the clew to his benefactor and not +his father who knew nothing about the frightful revelation of that +morning until it was all over. + +So perhaps there is a little god of good turns after all, who, all +unseen, administers punches in the nose and pays back two hundred and +fifty dollar gifts and so forth, and has the time of his life watching +how these things work out. Or a “pay back sperrit” as Licorice Stick +might have called him.... + + * * * * * + +As Pee-wee approached the scene of the fire he saw in the bushes +something which caught his eye. This was a torn fragment of clothing. +The bushes were trampled down at the spot. It was not hard for the scout +to follow this line of trampled brush which was so disordered that he +thought it could not have been caused by a walking or fleeing person. It +was well away from the area where the men had fought the flames. + +Here and there something brown and sticky on the leaves caught the +scout’s eye. Some one had crawled stealthily through here. Or else— +_dragged_ himself through. Pee-wee shuddered at this thought. He +examined the trampled channel more carefully. And from this examination +he was satisfied of one fact which made him uneasy, apprehensive. + +The weight which had crushed the bush down had been a prone, dead +weight. At intervals of perhaps three or four feet were gathered wounded +strands of the tall grass, as if some groping hand had reached ahead, +gathering and pulling on them. Pulling a helpless weight. Pee-wee knew +this for he saw with the eyes of a scout. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXIV + + THE TRAIL’S END + + +This trampled channel petered out in a comparatively bare area across +which was more brush. Almost hidden in this was a tumbled-down shack, +hardly bigger than a closet, in which boys who had been wont to dive +from the old bridge had donned their bathing suits. It had been thrown +together as a storage place for fishing tackle and crab nets and these +latter, rotten and gray with age, still hung in the dank, musty place. + +Pee-wee paused a moment, irresolute, nervous. He had a strange feeling, +a feeling of apprehension which amounted to a certainty. And as he +paused two charred bits of timber from the old bridge, still held +together by a rusty brace, creaked, and the creaking seemed loud in the +stillness of desolation. + +A rusty can, the discarded receptacle of bait, lay at his feet, and in +his hesitation and transient fear, he kicked it, and followed it, +kicking it again. + +Then, banishing such cracked-up excuses for delay he put aside his fears +and went around the tiny shelter to where the rotted door hung loose +upon one broken hinge. + +Within lay a human figure. The hair was wet and matted and prickly +leaves were stuck in it. The face was streaked with blood, the clothes +were torn. One of the legs lay in a very unnatural attitude. The eyes +were wide open and staring with a glassy look at some rough fishing rods +which lay across the rafters above. One of the arms was outstretched and +the hand lay open as if its owner were saying, “Here I am, you see.” +There was something very appalling about that dumb attitude of speech +and welcome when the voice and the eyes could not speak. For he had “got +dead,” this poor troubled creature; “got dead” after committing one +hideous crime to hide another. + +[Illustration: PEE-WEE SUMMONED THE NEAREST PEOPLE TO THE OLD SHACK.] + +The people in the nearest house along the now deserted highway came at +Pee-wee’s breathless summons and gazed down silently but would not touch +the figure with outstretched arm and opened hand that seemed to say, +“Step in, you’re welcome, here I am.” + +So they called the coroner and the body of Deadwood Gamely was borne +away and it was soon known that he had died from injuries received in +falling down the embankment which he was scrambling up after setting +fire to one of the supports of the old bridge. + +He had not done this horrible thing willfully, at least not for money to +spend. That very day a warrant was issued for his arrest in Baxter City +for embezzlement of funds which he had stolen from the bank in which he +had been employed. But the angel of death had traveled faster than the +law. + +That the contractors, or one of them, who wished to benefit the county +with a modern bridge had offered Gamely pay to do this dreadful deed of +arson seemed certain. But it seemed equally certain that the wretched +boy had balked at this frightful enterprise, putting it off from day to +day, until discovery and arrest for his other crime stared him in the +face. He had waited till the very night before the day on which his +petty thefts would be revealed. Then in frantic desperation he had taken +this only means of acquiring a sum of money quickly. No one could say +this for a certainty. + +But in a story where we have witnessed so many good turns may we not +dismiss poor Deadwood Gamely and his tragic end from our thoughts with +the hope, nay, even the confidence, that his second crime was not a deed +of willing choice? There was more money misappropriated by Tom, Dick and +Harry, before the new steel bridge was up than ever poor Deadwood +Gamely, with his silly clothes and hat, would have dared to steal. And +so the tax rate went up and Commissioner Somebody-or-other got a new +automobile and County Engineer Grabson built a big house and so on, and +so on, and so on. + +But before the new million-dollar bridge was finished the Pepsy Roadside +Rest was flourishing as the only real “monolopy” in Everdoze. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXV + + EXIT + + +So it befell that the big black wagon belonging to the brick orphan home +came and turned around and went back again. It got in the way of all the +automobiles that were headed for The Home of Fresh Doughnuts (a new +sign) and was a nuisance generally. The men who drove it didn’t buy so +much as a gumdrop. + +But what cared the partners? For such a business were they doing as +would make the Standard Oil Company turn green with envy. Their +financial rating was so high that you couldn’t see it without a +telescope. Every time there was a strike over at the new bridge the +partners reaped a profit from the delay. Thus labor unconsciously put +business in the way of monopolies. + +And so the great enterprise prospered. The advertising department had +now two steady employees—Licorice Stick and Wiggle. Licorice Stick +covered the road up as far as Berryville with a huge placard hung from +his neck. Wiggle proudly flew an inflated balloon from his tail bearing +the appropriate reminder HOT DOGS AT THE PEPSY REST. + +One evening, oh, it must have been about six o’clock, the weary partners +were closing up their little shack for the night. Pepsy was counting the +money and Pee-wee was eating the cookies that were left over. For he was +conscientious and must open shop with a fresh supply each day. Sometimes +he would have a dozen or more to eat, but he did it bravely—from a sense +of duty. A scout is dutiful. + +Presently there hove in sight a large figure, walking. + +“Oh, it’s Mr. Jensen,” said Pepsy; “hurry up and finish the cookies or +he’ll want them; he always does that.” + +Mr. Jensen came up mopping his forehead. “Any lemonade left?” he asked. + +“There’s about one glass,” Pee-wee said. + +In accordance with his invariable daily custom, Mr. Jensen bought up the +remainder of stock, drank several glasses of cider, and chatted with the +partners. + +“Ain’t heard of any rivals, have you?” he asked. + +“We’ve got the whole detour eating out of our hands,” said Pee-wee, +which was literally true. + +“Makin’ money fast, huh? You takin’ good care of this little gal of +mine?” + +Pepsy smiled at him and he put his arm around her and kissed her and +said, “If he don’t take good care of you, you just come and let me +know.” Then he winked at Pee-wee. + +When he was gone something reminded Pee-wee to look into the big +lemonade cooler and make sure that it was empty. It was not quite empty, +there being about ten lemon pits, a slice of rind, and a small piece of +ice left in the bottom of it. But this was worth going after and Pee-wee +went after it. With all his strength he raised the goodly cooler to a +position above his head and tilted it to his mouth. His arms trembled +under its weight, and his hands slipped upon its cold, beady sides. The +several drops of highly diluted lemonade trickled down into his mouth +but the flavory pits and rind remained at bay at the bottom of the +cooler. + +They would not roll but they might fall. Pee-wee held the cooler up to a +perfectly perpendicular position above his upturned face. Then, oh, +horrors! The wet cooler slipped through his hands and the curly head of +Pee-wee Harris disappeared within it. If the postman who found him +wrestling valiantly with a banana and clinging with the other hand, +could only have seen him in this new and terrible predicament! + +And thus the curly head and terribly frowning countenance of Scout +Harris disappears out of our story into a new realm of joy.... + + THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Pee-wee Harris, by Percy Keese Fitzhugh + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PEE-WEE HARRIS *** + +***** This file should be named 9833-0.txt or 9833-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/9/8/3/9833/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and Sue Clark (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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