Pee-Wee Harris on the Trail

  "You don't know anything about them," he said, holding up his head as ifproudly claiming brotherhood with those distant heroes in their rich,wonderful attire; "I won't talk about them. Because I know about themeven--even if they don't know _me_. They sent me a message; they didn'tknow, but they did it just the same. So I belong too. You can makebelieve you have a uniform--you can. You can be miles and miles andmiles and miles--"

  He paused and listened. Down the road, in the still night, sounded thegentle melody of clanking milk cans mingled with the pensive strains ofloose and squeaking wheels. It was the melodious orchestra which alwaysheralded the approach of Ham Sanders who was so strong that he couldhandle a bull.

  "Do you think I'm scared?" said Pee-wee.

  Evidently he was not.

  CHAPTER XXV

  BEDLAM

  That Pee-wee Harris, the only original boy scout, positively guaranteed,should be pronounced _not_ a scout! Why that was like saying that waterwas not wet or (to use a more fitting comparison) that mince pie was notgood.

  To say that Pee-wee Harris was in the scouts would not be saying enough.Rather should it be said that the scouts were all in Pee-wee Harris. TheScout movement had not swallowed _him_, he had swallowed it, the same ashe swallowed everything else. He had swallowed it whole. He was the boyscout just as much as Uncle Sam is the United States, except that he wasmuch greater and more terrible than Uncle Sam. Oh, much. He was just asmuch a boy scout as the Fourth of July is a noise. Except that he wasmore of a noise.

  And here was a shabby, eager-faced boy, with pantaloons like stovepipesalmost reaching his ankles and a ticking shirt with a pattern like achecker-board; a quaint, queer youngster, living a million miles fromnowhere, telling him that he was no scout, that he was a thief.

  "Hey, mister," Pee-wee shouted to Ham Sanders who drove up, "I'mrescuing this automobile from two men that stole it and I got anotherone to help me and he was trying to steal it and it belongs to a man Iknow where I live and I was at the movies with him, and that feller saidhe'd take it back and this feller says I'm a thief and I'm good andhungry."

  Ham Sanders gave one look at him and said, "Oh, is that so?"

  "It's more than so," Pee-wee shouted, "and I'm going to stick to thisautomobile, I don't care what. If you say I'm not a scout I can proveit."

  "You needn't go far to prove it," said Ham; "we can see you're not.Maybe you're pretty wide awake--"

  "I'm not, I'm sleepy," Pee-wee shouted. "Have you got anything to sayaround here?"

  "Well, I _think_ I have, I'm constable," said Ham.

  "Then why aren't you sure?" Pee-wee retorted. "Just because I don'tknow where I am it doesn't say I don't know what I'm talking about, doesit? Will you help me drive this automobile back? You'll get some moneyif you do. I had an adventure with a couple of thieves and I foiledthem; they've got seventy pistols. I was watching The Bandit ofHarrowing Highway--"

  "You got into bad company, youngster," said Ham, surveying Pee-wee'srakish cap and lawless looking sweater. "You ought to be thankful yougot a chance to get rid of that sort o' company. You're kinder young, Ireckon, ain't you? Gosh, I calculate you ain't more'n four foot high.Kinder young to be mixed up in stealings."

  "You're the one that's mixed up," Pee-wee shouted, "and anyway sizedoesn't count. You can--you can steal things if you're--you're only afoot high--if you want to and--"

  "How about all this, Peter?" asked his friend confidentially.

  "I'll tell you," Pee-wee shouted; "I had a lot of adventures, I know twomen that have, _shh_, they have _dead ones to their credit_! Icircum--what d'you call it--vented them, and that man that just ranaway, he was a traitor, but I can--"

  "Can you keep still a second? One look at you is enough," said HamSanders.

  "I've--I've got--three scout suits," Pee-wee began.

  "Like enough you stole 'em," said Ham. "You're one of them runners forcrooks, that's what you are. I know the kind; they have you to climb inthe windows for 'em and all that. Now you keep still a minute if youknow what's best for you."

  In a brief and threatened few moments of silence Peter told in a whisperhow he had seen the signal and read it and stopped the car, and of theflight of the head thief, as he called him. Between these two excitedyoungsters Ham hardly knew what to believe. He certainly did not believein talking lights appearing over graveyards. Nor did he credit Pee-wee'svehement and choppy account of bandits with seventy pistols.

  "Whar are these here dead ones?" he asked, rather confused. "Over yonderin the graveyard?"

  "How do I know where they are?" Pee-wee shouted. "Do you know whatblackjacks are?"

  "Dots and dashes, you can do it with lights too," said Peter; "theytell the truth. If he says signals lie that shows he isn't a scoutanyway, and anybody can see he isn't. I stopped them, I did it bymyself."

  "That's nothing," Pee-wee shouted from the seat, "I nearly gotsuffocated, I'm more of a hero than you are. That man that ran awayhe--he--_duped_ me. This car--will you listen--this car--"

  "It's stolen; _I_ know," said Peter.

  "It _was_ stolen but it _isn't_ stolen," Pee-wee fairly screamed. "Can'ta thing be stolen and then not stolen? It's being--being rescued--"

  "It's being stolen, the other thief ran away," Peter persisted. "He--headmits he was friends with a thief! He's a thief too, he is."

  "Maybe Jim disguised--kind of--as a thief," Pee-wee conceded.

  "He's trying to be disguised as a scout," poor Peter said.

  "I was a scout before you or anybody else was born," Pee-wee shouted.

  "He isn't," said Peter.

  "I am," said Pee-wee.

  Ham Sanders scratched his head, looking from one to the other, thenlooked appealingly at his familiar milk cans. Perhaps he expected to seethem dancing around in this Bedlam.

  "I'm gonter hev both of you youngsters before the peace justice," hefinally said; "we'll soon find out what's wrong here. Climb down out o'that car, you, and come along with me, the both of you."

  "Do you think I'm scared of him?" Pee-wee demanded as he climbed down.

  "You _will_ be scared of him, he's got a big book," said Peter.

  "I ain't scared of big books," Pee-wee announced; "I know bigger books,camp registers; I bet it isn't as big as a map book."

  "You'll see," said Peter, darkly.

  CHAPTER XXVI

  THE CULPRIT AT THE BAR

  The book could not have been so very big, for Justice of the Peace Feelived in a very small house. It was almost concealed among trees fiftyyards or so up the road.

  Justice Fee was one of those shrewd, easy-going, stern but good-natured,lawyers that one meets away off in the country. He was altogetherremoved from that obnoxious thing, the small town lawyer. Up in the edgeof his gray hair rested a pair of spectacles, with octagon shapedlenses, almost completely camouflaged by his grizzled locks. Thesespectacles were seldom where they belonged, on his nose.

  Apparently he wore them; to bed, for after several minutes of knockingby the visitors, he appeared with them on, the while groping for thesleeve of an old coat he had partly donned. He took the callers into aroom with a desk in the middle of it and sat down at this, facing them,his legs sticking out through the space in the middle. Then he openedthe large book as if making ready to close somebody up in it as onepresses a flower.

  He contemplated Pee-wee with a rather curious frown as he listened towhat Ham and then Peter (greatly agitated) had to say.

  Our young hero, indeed, presented anything but a creditable picture. Theold gray sweater used by the man who took care of the furnace inPee-wee's home, the cap which he held, and his grimy face, made him looklike a terrible example of hoodlumism; a trolley-car hoodlum, anapple-stealing and stone-throwing and hooky-playing hoodlum; ahole-in-the-ball-field-fence hoodlum. Nor did the terrible scowl withwhich he now challenged fate and the world help to make him look likethe boy on the cover of the scout manual; the boy that Peter knew andworshipped.

  "Well now," drawled Pea
ce Justice Fee, casting a tolerant side glance atPee-wee, "you tell me this whole business and you tell me the _plaintruth_. See?"

  "Sure I will," Pee-wee said; "I'll tell you all my adventures--"

  "Never mind about your adventures, and watch out, because the first lieyou tell--" The justice held up a warning finger. "Now answer me this,never mind anything else; we'll drop a plumb-line right down to thebottom of this thing and have no beating round the bush--"

  "I beat lots of bushes for rabbits," Pee-wee vociferated.

  "Well, don't beat any here. Now" (the justice spoke slowly andemphatically, shaking a long finger with each word),"_who--owns--that--car_? Careful now."

  "Mr. Bartlett, where I live--in Bridgeboro."

  "Sure of that?"

  "Sure I'm sure; didn't I--"

  "Never mind what you did. Now what's this Mr. Bartlett's full name?Now--_now!_" he added warningly, "just you answer the question I ask youand leave the rest to me. If you tell the truth you won't get in anytrouble."

  Pee-wee, somewhat awed, at last subsided. "Mr. James Bartlett," he said.

  PEE-WEE BEFORE THE JUSTICE OF THE PEACE.]

  Without another word, Mr. Fee drew in his long legs, arose, went overto where a book was hanging, looked in it, then took the receiver fromthe old-fashioned box telephone on the wall. The party waited, greatlyawed by this show of calm efficiency, and ability to get right at theheart of the matter. Pee-wee was particularly elated, for presently hisidentity and whereabouts would be established and explained. Helistened, with growing interest as the justice, unperturbed by delaysand mistakes, finally succeeded in securing the desired number.

  "This two-four-eight-Bridgeboro?" Pee-wee heard. "Sorry to get you up atthis hour. You Mr. James Bartlett? Yes. This is the peace justiceat--What? I say this is the peace justice--peace--yes this is the peacejustice--_justice of the peace_--at Piper's Crossroads, Noo York State.What? Yes. Noo York State. Pipes? No _Piper's_--Piper's Crossroads. Wasyour automobile stolen? Your automobile. What? I say was your auto--"

  "Sure it was stolen," Pee-wee said; "you just mention--"

  "Keep still. I say--was your automobile stolen--_STOLEN_? Well, it'sfor your sake--what's that? All right."

  There followed a pause. Justice Fee waited but did not address thecompany. A dead silence reigned. They could hear the ticking of the biggrandfather's clock in the corner. Peter thought that signalling wasbetter than this. Ham thought how wonderful it was for a man to have somuch "book learning" that he could go right to the heart of a matterlike this. Pee-wee thought how, in about ten seconds, he would be ableto denounce these strangers, and appear as the real hero that he was. Hewould ignore Peter Piper entirely and give Justice Fee an edifyinglecture on scouting. In about ten seconds they would all see....

  "What's that?" said the justice, busy at the 'phone. "Your car is inyour garage? I say--what's that? Oh, you looked? Sure about that, eh?Yes--yes--yes. You haven't got two cars? Six cars? Oh, six cylinders.No--no.... It's all safe in your garage, you say? Yes. Well, sorry totrouble you. No, not at all. Yes. All right. Good-bye."

  Peter Piper looked at Pee-wee with a kind of awe. He had seen the otherthief escape in the darkness; everything had been exciting and confused.But now, in the lamplight and within the safety of those four walls hebeheld a real crook, caught, cornered, at bay.

  Justice Fee had simplified the whole thing, talking little, depending onhard, cold facts. He had hit the vital spot of the whole mysteriousbusiness. He had caught this little hoodlum satellite of thieves in anugly lie. Yet Peter Piper, who had in him the makings of a real scout,was not happy. He had thought that he would be happy, but now he wasnot.

  "If--if you'll--maybe--if I could take him to my house," he began,twitching his fingers nervously as he gazed wistfully at the Justice whoembodied the relentless law, "if you'd let me do that he couldn't runaway, it's so far, and he said he was hungry and--and anyway there isn'tanything to steal at my house."

  That was better than reading the signal. And Peter Piper, pioneer scoutof Piper's Crossroads was a better scout than he knew....

  CHAPTER XXVII

  SOME NOISE

  There was one place where the searchlight message was translated with areadier skill than at Piper's Crossroads, and where it created quite asgreat consternation. That was at the camp on Frying-pan Island. It waslike A.B.C. to half a dozen of those practiced scouts, and to others notso well practiced, for the skill of the sender had made the readingeasy. In less than a minute the camp was the scene of hurried talk andlightning preparation.

  "What do you know about that?" asked Sparrow Blake. He was in theMammoth Patrol, made up of the smaller scouts in Safety First's troop.

  "I don't know _anything_ about it," said Scoutmaster Ned, reaching forhis plaited khaki jacket; "I don't know any more about it than you do.Nobody could get in that place, so I don't see how anyone could get out.Come ahead, Bill," he added hastily, addressing the other scoutmaster.This was followed by a vociferous chorus.

  "Can I go?"

  "I'm with you."

  "I'll row."

  "No you won't, _I_ will."

  "You mean me."

  "Get from under and go back to bed," said Scoutmaster Ned, excitedly."What do you fellows think this is; a regatta?"

  "Aren't we going to chase them?"

  "You're going to chase yourselves. Do you think we've got a battleship?We've only got one of the boats here. Chuck me that leather case--"

  "Your pistol?"

  "Never you mind what's in it. Come ahead, Bill, and you Norris, and lookout you don't step in the soup bucket. Is there a light over on shore?"

  "Sure, they've got a lantern; trust Nick not to forget anything."

  "I'm going so as to carry the lantern."

  "Yes, you're not," said Scoutmaster Ned; "never mind your coat, Bill,come ahead. I hope they had sense enough to get hold of a machinesomewhere. They could get Barney's flivver."

  "Shall we signal over to them?" called a dozen excited voices.

  "No, there isn't time. Come on now, _hustle_, and the rest of you go tosleep."

  "While you're chasing thieves? Did you hear what he said? Go to sleep!Can you beat that, from a scoutmaster! And him always telling us to bewide awake."

  "Get out of the way, all of you," said Scoutmaster Bill, alias SafetyFirst. "You're like a lot oh mosquitoes."

  The whole camp followed the two scoutmasters and Norris to the shore,where there seemed likely to be a stampede for the one small boat.

  "If you're going to take Norris--"

  "Norris can drive the other car back if I get mine," interruptedScoutmaster Ned. "He has a license; now are you all satisfied?"

  They saw that under his persistent good nature he was worried andpreoccupied, and like the good scouts they were, they said no more aboutgoing. They knew the pride he took in his Hunkajunk auto. They knewthat his one thought was of that now.

  Yet Scoutmaster Ned Garrison's sense of humor was ever ready, even inanxiety or disappointment. It was that which endeared him to his troop,whom he was forever denouncing and contemplating with a kind of mockdespair. He called them an infernal rabble and they loved him for it. Hewas a new kind of a scoutmaster. And I honestly believe that whenScoutmaster Ned thrust that leather case containing his revolver downinto his pocket, if he could only have known that it was for the purposeof shooting Pee-wee Harris, he would have laughed so hard that he wouldhave capsized the rowboat.

  CHAPTER XXVIII

  ON THE TRAIL

  The boat glided swiftly through the dark water.

  "Nick will get the silver cup for that stunt," said Norris.

  "He'll get a punch in the eye if he doesn't have a car for us," saidScoutmaster Ned.

  "I wonder how he did."

  "Town hall," said Scoutmaster Ned; "that kid thinks quick. If he'd onlylearn to tie a knot he'd be a scout. Vernon's a pretty good kid, though;he's better than Mount Vernon anyway. Pull on your left a little, Bill.What's the matte
r; got the sleeping sickness? Pull straight for thatlight."

  "If that wasn't a stunt, what is?" said Norris.

  "You are," said Scoutmaster Ned. "We're not handing out silver cupsto-night. Maybe I'll do a stunt to-night and win it."

  "You?"

  "Yes, me. Pull on your left some more. What do you think this is, Bill;a merry-go-round? Now go straight."

  "Maybe Fido Norton found their prints," said Norris. "He's a bear atthat."

  "He's clumsier than a bear, like all Safety First's troop. How aboutthat, Safety? Come on--_quick!_ Row!"

  "Coming?" called a voice from the shore.

  "That's what," answered Scoutmaster Ned.

  "Your car's gone."

  "So I read in the sky. Somebody break in?"

  "The small door's locked, the big one was open but nothing broken."

  "Get out!"

  "Wait till you see. Who's there?"

  "Safety First and Norris and me? You didn't think to get a car, did you?Do you know which way they went?"

  "Jim Burton is here with his Packard."

  "Hello, Jim."

  "Hello, Ned."

  "They followed the main road past the east road. We tracked the tirespast Oppie's mill. They're not likely to turn out anywhere else, tillthey get past Piper's anyway."

  "You'll be a scout yet, Fido," called Scoutmaster Ned.