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Updated: May 4, 2025
There were a lot of scouts waiting too, and I could see the camp was pretty full. Uncle Jeb said, "Wall, Roay" that's just the way he talks, slow like; "haow's all the boys from Bridgeboro? I reckon little Pee-wee ain't growed at all. Hain't you never goin' ter grow, Pee-wee? And Artie and Grovey, and El, and Hunter Ward and, let's see, Vic Norris every plaguy one of yer here.
"It was me that killed him," I cried, and I heard a voice say, "killed him." It was just an echo, I guess. Uncle Jeb and Westy came in and saw how it was and there wasn't anything more to do, so we went back to the boat. The fellows who were waiting around in the other boats said it wasn't my fault, but anyway, I knew it was. Uncle Jeb said, "Wall, naow, you take it kinder hard, Roay.
"And still making them flapjacks, hey?" he said; "I remember when one uv them New Hampshire scouts scaled one uv them flapjacks uv your'n across the lake. I reckon you're the same old Roay that put the mosquito dope in the biscuits. Yer remember that?" Cracky, I'm not going to tell you anything about my past life, but summer before last up there oh, boy!
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