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Updated: May 12, 2025
The scoutmaster had asked him to keep close at his heels, for since Seth had acquired more or less of a fund of swamp lore from the man who trapped muskrats for their pelts, in the fall and winter, if any knotty problems came up to be solved the chances were Seth would be of more use than any one of the other fellows. Evidently they were in for some new and perhaps novel experiences.
If the Westerner, rough and ready and leathery as he was, could not conquer Big Tom, what would the young scoutmaster be able to do? and he so slender and light when compared to the giant longshoreman! And now the latter was working himself into a rage! Johnnie, head thrust from the folds of the quilt, told himself that the whole world was coming to an end. But Mr.
He wanted to speak to the other scouts about it, and thus relieve his feelings. But he had received the captain's order, and so must obey. The rest of the scouts were most anxious to know what the special summons meant, so it did not take them long to reach Headquarters as soon as school was out. Their scoutmaster was there before them, who explained in a few words why he had called them together.
Still the scoutmaster was silent. "You heard about my father, didn't y', Mister Perkins?" Johnnie asked presently.
Ellsworth to-night you ask him about the belt-axe and go by what he says. That's the one to go to your scoutmaster." "But anyway it's in the book about the axe," he said, and oh, gee, I could see how he fell for that axe. I don't know, it was something about it, I supposen "It's all right for a tree to fall for an axe, but don't you," I said. That was a joke.
All but one of them, and that was Jim Burton, were in scout attire. Pee-wee stood gaping at them as if they had dropped from the clouds. Whatever their wee hour call meant they seemed all to be in high good-humor and amused at their own adventure. One of them, a scoutmaster as Pee-wee knew, was particularly offhand and jovial and seemed to fill the room with his breezy talk.
And then when the six scouts had gone about fifty feet Eben was heard wildly shouting after them. "Paul, O! Paul!" he was bellowing at the top of his voice. "Well, what is it?" asked the scoutmaster. "You forgot something," came the answer. "What?" "You didn't give us the password, you know; and how c'n we tell whether any fellers has it right, when we don't even know."
Scoutmaster Ned Garrison had a middle name. Handling parents, that was his middle name. He was a bear at that. He could make them eat out of his hand. Had he not engineered the camping enterprise pending the preparation of a makeshift school? Parents did not trouble him, he ate them alive. "You leave them to me," he said to Pee-wee as they advanced against poor defenseless Bridgeboro.
"Oh, Mister Perkins, hurry up and git away!" begged Johnnie. "All right, scout boy." Mr. Perkins took a paper from an inner pocket of his coat, and from another a fountain pen which Barber had not damaged. He handed both to Father Pat, who rose at once and boldly entered the bedroom. "That's the consent," the scoutmaster explained to Johnnie.
When I got there they were all over the houseboat like flies, painting and varnishing and fixing up the flagpole, and I could hear Pee-wee as usual, shouting away. Jiminy, but it sounded good. Then I could hear somebody say, "Well, well better late than never," and I saw it was our scoutmaster, Mr. Ellsworth. He took a day off to help the fellows.
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