"If it's their place--"
"Leave them to me, I'll fix it," Pee-wee announced vociferously.
"That relieves us," said Scoutmaster Ned, lying back on the ground,after sitting up to inspect the approaching boat; "we are safe in thehands of Scout Harris. Let them come. We should worry our young lives."
The boat made straight for the new camp, and it appeared to contain twomen. The one who was rowing wore a large straw hat and his suspenderswere visible.
"They're scoutmasters!" Pee-wee shouted. This seemed as good a guess asany.
The two men landed, drew the boat up very methodically and approachedthe camp.
"Good afternoon," said Scoutmaster Ned, dragging himself to his feet andseating himself upon a grocery box. "Beautiful fall weather we'rehaving. Just a little crisp out on the water, eh? Won't you sitdown--if you can find something to sit on?"
Whether the weather was crisp or not, the man who spoke first was verycrisp indeed.
"You in charge of these lads?" he asked.
"Well, we're all sort of in charge of each other," said Scoutmaster Ned."I guess I'm the goat."
"He's all right," Pee-wee said; "you take it from me."
"Well," said the man in a drawling but ominously conclusive tone, "myname is Rodney, Birchel Rodney; and this is Mr. Wise, Mr. Barnabas Wise.We came from East Ketchem."
"I don't blame you," said Scoutmaster Ned. "I'm happy to meet you,gentlemen. This is a sort of table d'hote scout outfit that you seehere; two troops and a couple of sundries. Will you stay and have supperwith us?"
"We ain't fer interferin' in no boys' pleasures," said Mr. BarnabasWise, "but it's our dooty to tell you that we're the school committee ofthe village of East Ketchem, and s'long as these youngsters hez movedinside the taown limits of East Ketchem they'll hev to report forschool at nine o'clock to-morrow morning. The taown line between EastKetchem and West Ketchem runs right through the middle of this island."
A gaping silence followed this horrible pronouncement.
"We--eh--we are just camping here, pending--" began Scoutmaster Ned.
"It ain't no question uv pendin'," said Mr. Birchel Rodney. "Theordinance of the village of East Ketchem says that every minor--"
"We're not miners, we're scouts!" Pee-wee shouted.
"The ordinance of the village of East Ketchem," Mr. Rodney proceeded,ignoring the boisterous interruption, "says that every _minor_, which isspelled with a o, between the ages of eight years and fifteen years,resident _or_ visiting _or_ otherwise domiciled--"
"You can't say I'm domiciled--" Pee-wee began.
"Or otherwise domiciled," the terrible man continued, "must attendschool in said village except upon cause of illness--"
"WE'RE NOT MINERS, WE'RE SCOUTS!" PEE-WEE SHOUTED.]
"I'm sick a lot," Pee-wee yelled.
"I expect to have a cold very shortly," said Nick in his funny way.
"Determined and certified by a physician _in_ good standing. Them's thevery words of the village law and we come to tell you that all theseyoungsters will hev ter _re_port for school at nine A.M. to-morrermorning, _in_ said village of East Ketchem."
"Foiled!" said Nick, falling back on the ground.
"Horrors and confusion!" said Fido Norton.
"That we should live to hear this!" moaned Charlie Norris.
"Oh, what have we stepped into?" another groaned, holding his foreheadin a way of despair.
"You mean what have we been drawn into!" said another. "Oh, that itshould come to this!"
"What have we done? What have we done?" sighed still another.
As for Scoutmaster Ned, he gave one terrific groan (or perhaps it was aroar of abandoned mirth) and fell backward off the grocery box.
Only the fixer remained silent. His eyes stared, his mouth gaped. Butnot a word said he. It was Napoleon at Waterloo. Scout Harris had nowords. Or else he had so many that they got jumbled up in his throat andwould not come out. And as he stood there, bearing up under that mortalblow, the conquering legion, consisting of the two members of the EastKetchem school board, withdrew with an air of great collusiveness anddignified solemnity to the shore.
Then, and only then, did Scoutmaster Ned sit up and rub his eyes,holding his splitting sides, the while he gazed after that officialdelegation constituting the entire school board. He gave one look at thefixer (and the fixer's face was worth looking at) and at the gapingcountenances all about him. Then he fell back again and shook as if hehad a fit and rolled over and buried his face in his folded arm androared and roared and roared.
"Retreat! Retreat across the line! A disorderly retreat! That is ouronly hope! Who will lead a disorderly retreat?"
The desperate cry was not unanswered. "_I will!_" said Fido Norton. "Getthe stuff together! Every scout for himself! Our freedom hangs on adisorderly retreat! Vaccination--I mean evacuation--is our only hope!Our freedom is more dear than our lives! Give me vacation or give medeath! We've been foiled by a school principal disguised as a boy scout!Remember his pal, the manual training teacher? Spies! Traitors! We fellinto their clutches. Follow me, we will foil the schools yet! Everyscout grab his own stuff, or anybody else's, and retreat as disorderlyas possible. Our liberty is at stake! I love the west shore so muchlynow that I wouldn't even knock the West Shore Railroad."
CHAPTER XL
GUESS AGAIN
Alas, such is fame! The thunderous voice of P. Harris was mute, hisblankly staring eyes spoke volumes, libraries in fact, but they did notmake a noise. The voice which had aroused the echoes at Temple Camp,which had filled the crystal back room at Bennett's Candy Store inBridgeboro, was still. And it did not speak again for--nearly twentyminutes. Even then it did not speak in its former tone of thunder. Itcould not have been heard for more than--oh, half a mile.
The first occasion on which the voice of Scout Harris arose to itsformer height was on the last day before West Ketchem summoned itsbronzed scouts over to the makeshift school which had been prepared in avacant, old-fashioned mansion. They had had plenty of fun in themeantime and they went with a good will. Far be it from me to publishany unworthy hopes, but if your school should ever burn down in thesummer, try camping in the autumn. You will find the woods more friendlythen. Even the birds and chipmunks and squirrels seem to say, "Come on,let us get together and be friends, for it's getting cool."
But to return to Pee-wee's-voice. On the last day of the autumn camping,the silver stunt cup was to be awarded. It was an open secret that thiswas to go to Nick Vernon, and the scouts of both troops were agreeableenough to this disposition of it.
Many of them had performed conspicuous stunts, but they were all agreedthat Nick's feat in flashing the message by searchlight was the stunt ofthe season. Perhaps Nick's personality, and consequent popularity, hadsomething to do with this. At all events when the two troops wereordered to congregate under the old half-naked elm, to which they hadreturned after their inglorious invasion of the east, it was generallyunderstood that the ceremony of presentation was to be purelyperfunctory having no surprises for anybody.
Safety First had been asked to do the honors but he had insisted onScoutmaster Ned making the address. That address has even been memorablein West Ketchem history. It was (as Scoutmaster Ned himself said) thebest address ever made on Frying-pan Island, because it was the onlyone.
"Bunch," he said "this is the happiest day of the year, for school opensto-morrow (groans). Hereafter, whenever I see a frying-pan I'll think ofyou and wish you were in it, being fried to a turn. (Laughter.) Don'tlaugh, it's no laughing matter. I'm on the verge of nervous presumptionor whatever you call it, and I'll be glad to get rid of you--every oneof you!
"I've been asked to hand out this cup and it goes to St. Nicholas Vernonbecause he sprawled the nice clean sky all up with scribbling and allthat kind of stuff. Nobody read the message but that makes nodifference, because the proof of the message is in the sending just thesame as the proof of the pudding is in the eating. How about that, ScoutHarris?
/>
"I guess you fellows are all satisfied and I should fret my heart outwhether you are or not. Nick showed resource, and alertness, and a lotof other stuff that's in the handbook, page something or other. If itisn't there it's somewhere else. Shut up and give me a chance to speak.Here you go, Nick, catch this. Your silver cup of joy is full and weshall all live happily ever afterwards. Anything more, Safety First?"
Nick Vernon never seemed more at ease, and less interested, than when heambled toward the stump from which Scoutmaster Ned was descending, andsaid in a quiet, drawling voice, "Yes, something more. May I have thatstump a minute?"
He stood there, holding the silver cup in one hand, his other handagainst his hip, in an attitude familiar to them all.
"A little speech of thanks," someone shouted; "make it short."
There was one who stood in that group, unnoticed. His eyes were fixedupon the winner, and he was actually trembling with delight.
"Good idea, I'll make it short and snappy," said Nick. "Actions speaklouder than words."
"No, they don't," shouted Pee-wee.
"The signal I sent," said Nick, "was read and the one who read it was ascout. He's the one that stopped the car. The cup was in the car and sohe saved the cup. It's his. He tried to keep his scouting a secret andhe didn't get away with it. He beat Scoutmaster Ned hands down. He lefthim guessing. Scoutmaster Ned is easy. But this kid can't put anythingover on _me_; I've got him red-handed; he's a scout and he's got us alllooking like thirty cents. He's a scout and he'll tell the truth, if youcorner him. He won't lie. Here you go, catch this, Pete, hold yourhands steady; if you don't hold them up I'll chuck it plunk in yourface. As sure as I'm standing here I will! _I'm_ making this speech ofpresentation, not Scoutmaster Ned. You know so much about the handbook,remember law one, about telling the truth. Here you go, Peter Piper,you're the only scout that ever dropped into this Frying-pan. Catch itor by gosh--"
But he didn't catch it, because his eyes were glistening, and his handswere trembling, and you can't catch things in such a state.
He stood there like one transfixed, hearing the uproar all about him.Nervously he stooped and picked up the glittering cup and held it as ifhe were afraid of it. Peter Piper, pioneer scout, of Piper'sCrossroads. He would go home famous and rich, a hero, just as his motherhad dreamed that some day he would do....
It was just at that moment that Scout Harris really recovered his voice.He recovered it in the moment of having an "inspiration." He jumped upona barrel, released his teeth from the apple into which he had plungedthem, and dancing like a maniac, sang at the top of his voice:
"Peter Piper picked A peck of pickled peppers; A peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked. If Peter Piper picked A peck of pickled peppers; Where's the peck of pickled peppers, Peter Piper picked?"
Then, finding the place in the apple where his mammoth bite had beeninterrupted by his inspiration, he completed the bite, eating andsinging at the same time.
It was one of the great scout stunts of the season.
* * * * *
_This Isn't All!_
Would you like to know what became of the good friends you have made inthis book?
Would you like to read other stories continuing their adventures andexperiences, or other books quite as entertaining by the same author?
On the _reverse side_ of the wrapper which comes with this books youwill find a wonderful list of stories which you can buy at the samestore where you got this book.
_Don't throw away the Wrapper_
_Use it as a handy catalog of the books you want some day to have. Butin case you do mislay it, write to the Publishers for a completecatalog._
* * * * *
THE PEE-WEE HARRIS BOOKS
By PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH
Author of "Tom Slade," "Roy Blakeley," "Westy Martin," Etc.
_Illustrated. Individual Picture Wrappers in Color. Every VolumeComplete in Itself._
All readers of the Tom Slade and the Roy Blakeley books are acquaintedwith Pee-wee Harris. These stories record the true facts concerning hissize (what there is of-it) and his heroism (such as it is), his voice,his clothes, his appetite, his friends, his enemies, his victims.Together with the thrilling narrative of how he foiled, baffled,circumvented and triumphed over everything and everybody (except wherehe failed) and how even when he failed he succeeded. The whole recordedin a series of screams and told with neither muffler nor cut-out.
PEE-WEE HARRIS PEE-WEE HARRIS ON THE TRAIL PEE-WEE HARRIS IN CAMP PEE-WEE HARRIS IN LUCK PEE-WEE HARRIS ADRIFT PEE-WEE HARRIS F.O.B. BRIDGEBORO PEE-WEE HARRIS FIXER PEE-WEE HARRIS: AS GOOD AS HIS WORD PEE-WEE HARRIS: MAYOR FOR A DAY PEE-WEE HARRIS AND THE SUNKEN TREASURE PEE-WEE HARRIS ON THE BRINY DEEP PEE-WEE HARRIS IN DARKEST AFRICA
GROSSET & DUNLAP, _Publishers_, NEW YORK
* * * * *
GARRY GRAYSON FOOTBALL STORIES
By ELMER A. DAWSON
Individual Colored Wrappers and Illustrations by WALTER S. ROGERS
Every Volume Complete in Itself
Football followers all over the country will hail with delight this newand thoroughly up-to-date line of gridiron tales.
Garry Grayson is a football fan, first, last, and all the time. But morethan that, he is a wideawake American boy with a "gang" of chums almostas wideawake as himself.
How Garry organized the first football eleven his grammar school had,how he later played on the High School team, and what he did on the PrepSchool gridiron and elsewhere, is told in a manner to please all readersand especially those interested in watching a rapid forward pass, aplucky tackle, or a hot run for a touchdown.
Good, clean football at its best--and in addition, rattling stories ofmystery and schoolboy rivalries.
GARRY GRAYSON'S HILL STREET ELEVEN; or, The Football Boys of Lenox.
GARRY GRAYSON AT LENOX HIGH; or, The Champions of the Football League.
GARRY GRAYSON'S FOOTBALL RIVALS; or, The Secret of the Stolen Signals.
GARRY GRAYSON SHOWING HIS SPEED; or, A Daring Run on the Gridiron.
GARRY GRAYSON AT STANLEY PREP; or, The Football Rivals of Riverview.
GROSSET & DUNLAP, _Publisher,_ NEW YORK
* * * * *
THE TOM SLADE BOOKS
By PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH
Author of "Roy Blakeley," "Pee-wee Harris," "Westy Martin," Etc.
_Illustrated. Individual Picture Wrappers in Colors. Every VolumeComplete in Itself._
"Let your boy grow up with Tom Slade," is a suggestion which thousandsof parents have followed during the past, with the result that the TOMSLADE BOOKS are the most popular boys' books published today. They takeTom Slade through a series of typical boy adventures through histenderfoot days as a scout, through his gallant days as an Americandoughboy in France, back to his old patrol and the old camp ground atBlack Lake, and so on.
TOM SLADE, BOY SCOUT TOM SLADE AT TEMPLE CAMP TOM SLADE ON THE RIVER TOM SLADE WITH THE COLORS TOM SLADE ON A TRANSPORT TOM SLADE WITH THE BOYS OVER THERE TOM SLADE, MOTORCYCLE DISPATCH BEARER TOM SLADE WITH THE FLYING CORPS TOM SLADE AT BLACK LAKE TOM SLADE ON MYSTERY TRAIL TOM SLADE'S DOUBLE DARE TOM SLADE ON OVERLOOK MOUNTAIN TOM SLADE PICKS A WINNER TOM SLADE AT BEAR MOUNTAIN TOM SLADE: FOREST RANGER TOM SLADE IN THE NORTH WOODS
GROSSET & DUNLAP, _Publishers_, NEW YORK
* * * * *
THE WESTY MARTIN BOOKS
By PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH
Author of the "Tom Slade" and "Roy Blakeley" Books, Etc.
_Individual Colored Wrappers. Illustrated. Every Volume Complete inItself._
Westy Martin, known to every friend of Roy Blakeley, appears as the heroof adventures quite different from those in which we have seen himparticipate as a Scout of Bridgeboro and of Temple Camp. On his foray tothe Yellowstone the bigness of
the vast West and the thoughts of thewild preserve that he is going to visit make him conscious of his ownsmallness and of the futility of "boy scouting" and woods lore in thisgreat region, Yet he was to learn that if it had not been for his scouttraining he would never have been able to survive the experiences he hadin these stories.
WESTY MARTIN WESTY MARTIN IN THE YELLOWSTONE WESTY MARTIN IN THE ROCKIES WESTY MARTIN ON THE SANTA FE TRAIL WESTY MARTIN ON THE OLD INDIAN TRAILS
GROSSET & DUNLAP, _Publishers_, NEW YORK
* * * * *
THE ROY BLAKELEY BOOKS
By PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH
Author of "Tom Slade," "Pee-wee Harris," "WestyMartin," Etc.
Illustrated. Picture Wrappers in Color.Every Volume Complete in Itself.
In the character and adventures of Roy Blakeley are typified the veryessence of Boy life. He is a real boy, as real as Huck Finn and TomSawyer. He is the moving spirit of the troop of Scouts of which he is amember, and the average boy has to go only a little way in the firstbook before Roy is the best friend he ever had, and he is willing topart with his best treasure to get the next book in the series.
ROY BLAKELEY ROY BLAKELEY'S ADVENTURES IN CAMP ROY BLAKELEY, PATHFINDER ROY BLAKELEY'S CAMP ON WHEELS ROY BLAKELEY'S SILVER FOX PATROL ROY BLAKELEY'S MOTOR CARAVAN ROY BLAKELEY LOST, STRAYED OR STOLEN ROY BLAKELEY'S BEE-LINE HIKE ROY BLAKELEY AT THE HAUNTED CAMP ROY BLAKELEY'S FUNNY BONE HIKE ROY BLAKELEY'S TANGLED TRAIL ROY BLAKELEY ON THE MOHAWK TRAIL ROY BLAKELEY'S ELASTIC HIKE ROY BLAKELEY'S ROUNDABOUT HIKE ROY BLAKELEY'S HAPPY-GO-LUCKY HIKE ROY BLAKELEY'S GO-AS-YOU PLEASE HIKE