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Updated: May 12, 2025
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.
"That's me," he said, "I was just going to propose it when you took the words out of my mouth." "I'd like to see a photograph of anybody taking anything out of your mouth," said Scoutmaster Ned. "Go ahead, the two of you; I wish your people would send you both to a private school that opens up to-morrow. Go on, get out of here. And don't wake us up when you come back."
If it wasn't for that scoutmaster you fellows have, I'd say he would never make a regular tip-top scout. But I think that Mr. What's-his-name Ellsworth is a wonder." "Believe me, you said something," I told him. "You know yourself," he said, "how that kid talks shouts, I mean. Stealing silver, picking pockets! What are all these fellows to think? Most of the fellows here come from good folks.
The Assistant Scoutmaster also made out lists of provisions, clothes and equipment for the boys and they spent a busy evening getting everything together and in shape for an early start next morning. In the weird half light of dawn next day, long before Woodbridge was awake and stirring, nearly a score of scouts were hustling toward headquarters on the crown of Otter Hill.
"A friend of mine is scoutmaster of a troop of Boy Scouts," she said. "And he has teased me, sometimes, about our work. He says we just imitate the Boy Scouts, and that we just pretend we're camping out and doing all the things they do. Well, I told him that some time we'd have a contest with them, and show them; a regular field day. And, just for fun, we made up a sort of list of events."
"Y' won't git ev'rything y'r own way!" vowed Big Tom, panting curses, and still whirling his arms like the fans of a windmill. Changing his steps like a dancer, the scoutmaster fell back. But now he was at a disadvantage, for his face was toward those windows, and the light was in his eyes.
Then, "I might," agreed the scoutmaster, carelessly; "but again I might not." Now Barber showed that he did not possess the self-control that distinguished the younger man. His heavy, hair-rimmed mouth working as if with unspoken words, he rose, pocketed the pipe, and took a long step toward the table, upon which he planted both his huge hands.
He was glad for what Uncle Jeb had said. But he was rather surprised that Barnard had not protested against this hospitality. What he was particularly surprised at, however, was a certain uneasiness which this scoutmaster from the west had shown in Uncle Jeb's presence. But it was nothing worth thinking about, certainly, and Tom ceased to think about it.
There were six people listening to his story. Bob Olsson, the two pilots, the intelligence officer, his sergeant, and I. We each had previously agreed to pick one insignificant detail from the story and then re-question the scoutmaster when he had finished. Our theory was that if he had made up the story he would either repeat the details perfectly or not remember what he'd said.
A boss is a feller that has people elected and then makes them do what he says." "Well, you were glad enough to vote for him with the rest, weren't you?" laughed the scoutmaster. And Pee-wee had to confess that he was. But there was no doubt that Roy had managed the whole thing, and if ever political boss saw his fondest wishes realized Roy did now. "I think," said Mr.
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