Produced by James Eager
PEE-WEE HARRIS
By Percy Keese Fitzhugh
Author of
THE TOM SLADE BOOKS
THE ROY BLAKELEY BOOKS
Published with the approval of
THE BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA
MCMXXII.
CHAPTER CONTENTS
I THE BATTLE OF THE BANANA II A TRAGIC PREDICAMENT III AN INVITATION IV HE GOES TO CONQUER V ENTER PEPSY VI THE WAY OF THE SCOUT VII A BIG IDEA VIII MAKING PLANS IX IT PAYS TO ADVERTISE X DEADWOOD GAMELY TALKS BUSINESS XI TWO IS A COMPANY--THREE IS BAD LUCK XII THE ADVERTISING DEPARTMENT XIII PEPSY'S SECRET XIV SUSPENSE XV SIX MERRY MAIDENS XVI A REVELATION XVII HARD TIMES XVIII THE VOICE OF THE TAIL-LIGHT XIX THE OTHER VOICE XX AN OFFICIAL REBUKE XXI SCOUT HARRIS FIXES IT XXII FATE IS JUST XXIII WHERE THERE'S A WILL THERE'S A WAY XXIV PEPSY'S ENTERPRISE XXV AN ACCIDENT XXVI PEPSY'S INVESTMENT XXVII SEEN IN THE DARK XXVIII STOCK ON HAND XXIX INDUSTRIAL CONDITIONS XXX PAID IN FULL XXXI CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE XXXII THE CLEW XXXIII THE TRAMPLED TRAIL XXXIV THE TRAIL'S END XXXV EXIT
PEE-WEE HARRIS
CHAPTER I
THE BATTLE OF THE BANANA
PEE-WEE HARRIS, mascot of the Raven Patrol, First Bridgeboro Troop, satupon the lowest limb of the tree in front of his home eating a banana.To maintain his balance it was necessary for him to keep a tight holdwith one hand on a knotty projection of the trunk while with the otherhe clutched his luscious refreshment.
The safety of his small form as he sat on the shaky limb depended uponhis hold of the trunk, while the tremendous responsibility of holdinghis banana devolved upon the other hand.
Pee-wee was so much smaller than he should have been and the banana somuch larger than it should have been that they might almost be said tohave been of the same size.
The slender limb on which Pee-wee sat trembled and creaked with eachenormous bite that he took. The bright morning sunlight, wrigglingthrough the foliage overhead, picked out the round face and curly hairof our young hero and showed him in all his pristine glory, frowning aterrible frown, clinging for dear life with one hand and engaged in hiscustomary occupation of eating.
He had ascended to this leafy throne with the banana in his pocket buthe could not restore it to his pocket now even if he wished to. However,he did not wish to. In a military sense he was in a predicament, botharms were in bad strategic position and his center exposed to assault.His leafy throne was like many another throne in these eventfultimes--extremely shaky.
But the commissary department was in fine shape....
Suddenly the expeditionary forces of Uncle Sam appeared in the form ofthe postman, who paused on his way across the lawn to the house.
"Hello, up there," he said, suddenly discovering Pee-wee.
"Hello yourself and see how you like it," the mascot of the Ravenscalled down.
"I saw a banana up there and I thought maybe you were behind it," thepostman called, as he looked among the pack of letters he held in hishand.
"It's only half a banana," Pee-wee shouted.
"Well, you're only half a scout," the postman said; "you'd better dropit, here's a letter for you."
"For me?"
"For you."
Steadying himself, Pee-wee took an enormous bite, considerably reducingthe length of the banana. "Wait a minute till I finish it," he said asbest he could with his mouth full. "Waaer--mint."
"Can't wait," the postman said, heartlessly moving away.
"Waymnt," Pee-wee yelled, frantically taking another bite;"wayermntdyehear, waymnt!"
"Do you think the government can wait for you to finish a banana?" thepostman demanded with a wicked grin upon his face. "You got two hands;here, take the letter if you want it; here it is," he added, reachingup.
Pee-wee tried to dispatch the remainder of the banana by one giganticand triumphant bite but the desperate expedient did not work; his mouthwith all its long practice, could not keep up with his hand; it becameclogged while yet a considerable length of banana projected out of thegracefully drooping rind.
"Here, take it," the postman said in a tone of ruthless finality.
Chewing frantically and waving the remainder of banana menacingly likea club, the baffled hero uttered some incomprehensible, imploringjumble of suffocated words while the postman moved away a step or two,repressing a fiendish smile.
"Throwaway the banana," he said.
By this time Pee-wee was able to speak and while his chewing apparatuswas momentarily disengaged he demanded to know if the postman thought hewas crazy. The postman, resolved not to miss the fun of the situation,was not going to let Pee-wee take another bite; time was precious, andtwo more bites of the sort that Pee-wee took might leave his hand free.
"Take the letter," he said with an air of cold determination, "or I'llleave it at the house. Here, take it quick; I've no time to waste."
"Do you want me to waste a banana," Pee-wee yelled imploringly; "a scoutis supposed--"
"Here, take it", the postman said.
There followed the most terrible moment in the life of Pee-wee Harris,Scout. He knew that one more bite would be fatal, that the postman wouldnot wait. In two bites, or in three at most, he could finish the bananaand his hand would be free.
How could a postman, who brings joy to the lonely, words of love fromfar away, cheer to those who wait, comfort from across the seas, Boys'Life Magazine--how could such a being be so relentless and cruel? Ifthat letter were left at the house, Pee-wee would have to go to thehouse and get it, and there his mother was lying in ambush waiting topounce upon him and make him mow the lawn, Why would not the postmanwait for just two bites? Maybe he could do it in one, he had consumed apeach in one bite and a ham sandwich in four--his star record.
He made a movement with his hand, and simultaneously the postmanretreated a step or two toward the house. Pee-wee tried releasing hishold upon the trunk with the other hand and almost lost his balance onthe shaky limb.
"Here," said the postman, unyielding, "chuck the banana and take theletter or you'll find it waiting for you in the front hall. It's animportant letter, it feels as if it had a couple of cookies in it." Thepostman knew Pee-wee. "Here you go," the torturer said grimly, "take itor not, suit yourself."
"Can't you see both hands are busy?" the victim pled. "Two bites--ascout is supposed not to waste anything--he's supposed--he'ssupposed--wait a minute--he's supposed if he starts a thing tofinish it--wait, I'm not going to take a bite, I'm only giving you anargument--can't you wait--"
"Here you go, last chance, take it," the postman said, a faint smilehovering at the corner of his mouth, "one, two--"
Out of Pee-wee's wrath and anguish came an inspiration.
"Stick the letter in the banana," he said, holding the banana down.
"I don't know about that," the postman said, ruefully.
"I know about it," Pee-wee thundered down at him. "You said I had totake it or not; that letter belongs to me and you, have to deliver it.This banana, it's--it's the same as a mail box--you stick the letter inthe banana. You think you're so smart, you thought you'd make methrow away the banana, naaah, didn't you? I wouldn't do that, not evenfor--for--secretary--for the postmaster--general, I wouldn't! A scouthas resource."
"All right, you win," said the postman, good humoredly, "only look outyou
don't fall; here you go, hold on tight."
Clutching to the knotty projection of trunk, Pee-wee reached the otherhand as low as he could and the postman, smiling, stuck the corner ofthe coveted letter into the mealy substance of the banana.
"You win," the postman repeated laughingly; "it shows what Scout Harriscan do with food."
"Food will win the war," Pee-wee shouted. "You thought you could makeme throwaway my banana but you couldn't. I knew a man that died from noteating a banana, I did."
"Explain all that," the postman said.
"He threw a banana away on his porch instead of eating it and later hestepped on it and slid down the steps and broke his leg and they tookhim to the hospital and compilations set in and he got pneumonia anddied from not eating that banana. So there."
"That's a very fine argument." the postman said as he went away.
"I know better ones than that." Pee-wee shouted after him.
CHAPTER II
A TRAGIC PREDICAMENT
So there he sat upon his precarious perch trying to reassume the posturewhich insured a good balance, clinging to the trunk with one hand and tothe banana with the other.
And now that the encounter which had almost resulted in a tragicsacrifice was over, and while our scout hero pauses triumphant, it maybe fitting to apologize to the reader for introducing our hero in theact of eating. But indeed it was a question of introducing him in theact of eating or of not introducing him at all.
For a story of Pee-wee Harris is necessarily more or less a storyof food. And this is a story abounding in cake and pie and waffles andcrullers and cookies and hot frankfurters. There will be found in italso ice cream cones and jaw breakers and coconut bars and potatoesroasted on sticks. Heroes of stories may have starved on desert islandsbut there is to be none of that here.
In this tale, if you follow the adventures of our scout hero (who now atlast appears before you as a star), you shall find lemonade side byside with first aid, and all the characters shall receive their justdesserts, some of them (not to mention any names) two helpings.
So there he sat upon the branch, the mascot of the Raven Patrol, with aninterior like the Mammoth Cave and a voice like the whisperings of thebattle zone in France. Take a good look at him while he is quiet forten seconds hand running. Everything about him is tremendous--except hissize. He is built to withstand banter, ridicule and jollying; his sturdynature is guaranteed proof against the battering assaults of unholymirth from other scouts; his round face and curly hair are the delightof the girls of Bridgeboro; his loyalty is as the mighty rock ofGibraltar. A bully little scout he is--a sort of human Ford.
The question of removing the letter from the banana and getting rid ofthe banana (in the proper way) now presented itself to him. He took abite of the banana and the letter almost fell. He then tried releasinghis hold upon the trunk but that would not do. He then extracted theletter with his teeth which effectually prevented him from eating thebanana.
What to do?
Steadying himself with one hand (he could not let go the trunk for somuch as a moment), he brought the banana to his lips, held it betweenhis teeth and took the letter in his unoccupied hand. As he bit intothe banana the part remaining trembled and hung as on a thread; anothermoment and it would drop. The predicament was tragic. Slowly, but surelyand steadily, the remainder of the banana broke away and fell--into thehand that held the letter.
Holding both letter and banana in the one perspiring palm, Pee-weedevoured first the one and then the other. Both were delicious, theletter particularly. It had one advantage over the banana, for he couldonly devour the banana once, whereas he devoured the contents of theletter several times. He wished that bananas and doughnuts were likeletters.
CHAPTER III
AN INVITATION
The envelope was postmarked Everdoze which, with its one thousand twohundred and fifty--seven inhabitants, was the cosmopolitan center ofLong Valley which ran ( if anything in that neighborhood could be saidto run) from Baxter City down below the vicinity of the bridge on thehighway. That is, Long Valley bordered the highway on its western sidefor a distance of about ten miles. The valley was, roughly speaking, acouple of miles wide, very deep in places, and thickly wooded. Itwas altogether a very sequestered and romantic region. Through it,paralleling the highway, was a road, consisting mostly of two wagon rutswith a strip of grass and weeds between them. To traverse Long Valleyone turned into this road where it left the highway at Baxters, and inthe course of time the wayfarer would emerge out of this dim tract intothe light of day where the unfrequented road came into the highway againbelow the bridge.
About midway of this lonely road was Everdoze, and in a pleasantold-fashioned white house in Everdoze lived Ebenezer Quig who once upona time had married Pee-wee's Aunt Jamsiah. Pee-wee remembered his AuntJamsiah when she had come to make a visit in Bridgeboro and, thoughhe had never seen her since, he had always borne her tenderly in mindbecause as a little (a very little) boy her name had always reminded himof jam. The letter, as has been said, bore the postmark of Everdozeand had been stamped by the very hand of Simeon Drowser, the localpostmaster.
This is what the letter said:
DEAR WALTER:
Your uncle has been pestering me to write to you but Pepsy has been using the pen for her school exercise and I couldn't get hold of it till today when she went away with Wiggle, perch fishing. Licorice Stick says they're running in the brook most wonderful but you can't believe half what he says. Seems as if the perch know when school closes, least ways that's what your uncle says.
Pee-wee reread these enchanting words. Pepsy! Wiggle! Perch fishing!Licorice Stick! And school closing! And perch that knew about it. Thatwas the sort of perch for Pee-wee. He read on:
I told your uncle I reckoned you wouldn't care to come here being you live in such a lively place but he said this summer you would like to come for there will be plenty for you to do because there is going to be a spelling match in the town hall and an Uncle Tom's Cabin show in August.
You can have plenty of milk and fresh eggs and Miss Arabella Bellison who has the school is staying this summer and she will let you in the schoolhouse where there is a library of more than forty books but some of the pages are gone Pepsy says.
She says to tell you she will show you where she cut her initials but I tell her not to put such ideas in your head and she knows how to climb in even if the door is locked, such goings on as she and Wiggle have, they will be the death of me.
Well, Walter, you will be welcome if you can come and spend the summer with us. I suppose you're a great big boy by now; your mother was always tall for her age. There are boys here who would like to be scout boys and your uncle says you can teach them. We will do all we can so that you have a pleasant summer if you come and tell your mother we will be real glad to see you and will take good care of you.
I can't write more now because I am putting up preserves, one hundred jars already. The apples will be rotting on the trees, it's a shame. You will think we are very old-fashioned, I'm afraid.
Pee-wee paused and smacked his lips and nearly fell backward off thelimb. One hundred jars of preserves and more coming, Apples rotting onthe trees! All that remained to complete his happiness was a bush ladenwith ice cream cones growing wild. He read the concluding sentences:
Your uncle would be glad to go and bring you in the buckboard but it would take very long and he is busy haying so if you don't mind the bad road it would be better for your father to send you in the automobile. Be sure to turn off the highway to the right just above Baxters. The road goes t
hrough the woods.
Your loving
AUNT JAMSIAH.
Steadying himself with one hand, Pee-wee took the letter between histeeth as if he were about to eat it. Then he cautiously let himself downso that he hung by his knees, then clutched the limb with his hands,hung for a moment with his legs dangling, and let go. In one sense hewas upon earth but in another sense he was walking on air. ...
CHAPTER IV
HE GOES TO CONQUER
Thus it befell that on the second day after the receipt of this letterPee-wee Harris was sitting beside Charlie, the chauffeur, in the finesedan car belonging to Doctor Harris, advancing against poor, helplessEverdoze.
He traveled in all the martial splendor of his full scout regalia, hisduffel bag stuffed to capacity with his aluminum cooking set and twoextra scout suits. His diminutive but compact and sturdy little form wasdecorated with his scout jackknife hanging from his belt, his compassdangling from his neck, and his belt ax dragging down his belt in back.
A suggestive little dash of the culinary phase of scouting was to beseen in a small saucepan stuck in his belt like a deadly dagger. Thus ifdanger came he might confront his enemy with a sample of scout cookeryand kill him on the spot.
His sleeves were bedecked with merit badges; from the end of his scoutstaff waved the flaunting emblem of the Raven Patrol; his stalkingcamera was swung over his shoulder like a knapsack; his nickel-platedscout whistle jangled against the saucepan and in his trousers pocketswere a magnifying glass, three jaw breakers, a chocolate bar, a fewinches of electric wiring, and a rubber balloon in a state of collapse.