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Updated: May 4, 2025
"We know how to manage them all right," said Pee-wee to Roy. "I told your father I'd see that you got back all safe; I told him to leave it to me." Pee-wee's responsibilities, according to his own account, were many and various. He promised Doc Carson's mother that he would personally see to it that Doc wore his sweater at night. He gave his word to Mr.
"Listen to the voice from Pee-wee's old patrol!" said Roy. "Eats! I'll fry some killies. Haven't we got some milk chocolate and Ulika biscuits? I bet there's a large crowd of peanuts and other junk in Pee-wee's locker. Can't you wait till you get to Minerva's? She'll have chicken salad and ice cream and sandwiches and cake and lemonade and paper napkins and souvenirs and everything.
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 never, never read that message, you can bet on that." "I know! I know!" vociferated Pee-wee. "He had a a inspiration. Give me the doughnut." We need not linger in Bridgeboro, the native haunt of Scout Harris, and of Roy Blakeley and his Silver-plated Fox Patrol, and the other celebrities of Pee-wee's troop. For the adventures of these world heroes may be found recorded by Roy's own hand.
I can't see that there was any mystery about it, but there was another kind of a mystery, believe me, and that kid was the cause of it. I guess maybe you'll like the next chapter better than this one. So long. Now I'm going to tell you about how we collected books for soldiers and especially about Pee-wee's big stunt. The next morning we started out and by night we had over five hundred books. Mr.
"He didn't put the last one back yet," Roy observed. "There goes your sandwich," another one of the Silver Foxes called with glee, as that precious remnant of Pee-wee's lunch went tumbling and separating down the slanting roof. "Now you see what you made me do!" he fairly screamed. "Food is coming down," Roy laughed.
It seemed to breathe peacefulness, which was Pee-wee's middle name. It afforded a fine view of East Ketchem, the thriving community on the east shore of Kidder Lake; and the crystal spring, and stalking facilities, and better shelter of the stately, solemn pines, seemed in accordance with scout requirements.
This staunchness somewhat daunted Roy. It made him feel not quite sure of himself; a little ashamed. But after all it was just Pee-wee's way; his faith was so strong that he shut his eyes to facts. Roy went down to the river and got Warde and together they started for the hospital. Warde was glad to go. He said little, for that was his habit. He was quiet and thoughtful.
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.
As soon as some miniature scout from New York had been duly initiated, some previously initiated scout from Chicago found that his time was up, and Pee-wee's time was chiefly occupied in rushing frantically about trying to keep pace with this epidemic of resignations.
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