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PEE-WEE HARRIS ADRIFT
by
PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH
Author of
The Tom Slade Books
The Roy Blakeley Books
The Pee-Wee Harris Books
Illustrated by H. S. Barbour
[Frontispiece: Pee-wee rowed his customers to Alligator Island.]
Published with the approval of
The Boy Scouts of America
Grosset & Dunlap
Publishers : : New York
Made in the United States of America
Copyright, 1922, by
Grosset & Dunlap
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I ALONE
II SATURDAY MORNING
III CASTLES IN THE AIR
IV KEEKIE JOE
V A QUESTION OF DUTY
VI THE MISSIONARY
VII APPLE BLOSSOM TIME
VIII PEE-WEE EXPLORES THE ISLAND
IX THE LOOKOUT SEES A SAIL
X THE OTHERS ARRIVE
XI PLANS
XII THE DISCOVERER RETURNS
XIII "STOP"
XIV "GO"
XV LIFE ON THE UNKNOWN SHORE
XVI BEFORE THE PARTY
XVII THE SCENE IS SET
XVIII EVERY WHICH WAY
XIX THE EARTHLY PARADISE
XX GONE
XXI FOILED
XXII IN THE GLARE OF THE SEARCH-LIGHT
XXIII THE DREAM OF KEEKIE JOE
XXIV THE MISSIONARY LANDS ON FOREIGN SHORES
XXV RETURN OF THE HERO
XXVI SHORT AND TO THE POINT
XXVII SETTLED AT LAST
XXVIII IT PAYS TO ADVERTISE
XXIX THE RACE
XXX ABSENCE MAKES THE ISLAND QUIET
XXXI A PROMISE
XXXII VENGEANCE
XXXIII KEEKIE JOE, SCOUT
XXXIV THE STORY CLOSES AND SCHOOL OPENS
ILLUSTRATIONS
Pee-wee rowed his customers to Alligator Island.
Keekie Joe interview Pee-wee.
The boys hold the island in spite of old Trimmer's protest.
Pee-wee becomes a sandwich man.
PEE-WEE HARRIS ADRIFT
CHAPTER I
ALONE
When Pee-wee Harris returned from Temple Camp in the fall, he found
himself a scout without a patrol. He had indulged in a colossal
speculation and lost out.
Forsaking the Raving Ravens, he had set forth to mobilize all the
small, unattached boys at camp into the Pollywog Patrol, but the
Pollywog Patrol had proved about as substantial as the shifting sand.
Like the beloved Black Lake it had both an inlet and an outlet. As
fast as one boy entered it another had to go home, so that conducting
the Pollywog Patrol was like pouring water into a leaky pail. Pee-wee,
with all his flaunted efficiency, could not be at both ends of this
patrol at the same time.
As soon as some miniature scout from New York had been duly initiated,
some previously initiated scout from Chicago found that his time was
up, and Pee-wee's time was chiefly occupied in rushing frantically
about trying to keep pace with this epidemic of resignations.
At last the epidemic reached an acute stage and the Pollywog Patrol,
after a glorious career of nine days, was struck a mortal blow, never
to be heard of again except in the pages of history. Its three
remaining members were summoned to their several homes simultaneously;
one new scout was hastily secured but on learning that he could not be
patrol leader he tendered his resignation and was soon called home to
attend his sister's wedding. Scout Harris faced a cruel world alone.
Meanwhile, Billy Simpson had been called to Temple Camp from Bridgeboro
to fill (if anyone could fill) the enormous space left vacant in the
Raven Patrol by the withdrawal of its enterprising genius.
"Never mind," said Mr. Ellsworth, the troop's scoutmaster, "there are
plenty of fish in the sea--to say nothing of Pollywogs. Bridgeboro is
full of permanent material. You have all this winter to round up a new
patrol."
"Only don't round up any snow men because they melt," said Roy
Blakeley, leader of the Silver Foxes; "and don't bother with shadows
because you can't depend on them. And when you get a scout put a paper
weight on him so he won't blow away."
"If you'll give me some of the biscuits you make, I'll use them for
weights," Pee-wee shouted.
"You mean you'll eat them," Roy said. "What are you going to name the
new patrol? Why don't you name it the Canned Salmon? Then they can't
get away from you."
"Sure, you can have a can-opener for your emblem," said Dorry Benton.
"Maybe we'll call ourselves the Airedales because scouts like fresh
air," Pee-wee said. "I got a lot of ideas."
"He thinks Airedales are named after the air," said Doc Carson.
"Sure, just the same as Pennsylvania is named after the Pennsylvania
Railroad," Roy said.
"You make me tired!" Pee-wee shouted disgustedly. "You leave it to me,
I'll think up a name. I know four fellers already that'll join. Maybe
I'll decide to start a whole new troop and not bother with this one."
"Why don't you start a whole new scout movement?" Roy asked. "Call it
the Boy Scouts of Pee-wee Harris. Discharge the Boy Scouts of America
altogether."
"I'll start something all right, you leave it to me," Pee-wee announced
darkly. "You think you're smart just because you write stories about
your adventures and you always make out that you're the hero. You
always make out that I get the worst of it. Gee whiz, if I ever write
any stories, I'll get my just deserts."
"Did I ever say you didn't get plenty of desserts?" Roy shot back at
him. "I gave you three helpings in every story and that's all the
thanks I get. You think so much about desserts that you're going to
desert the troop. We should worry."
"If I write any stories I'll write them good and loud," Pee-wee shouted.
"Open the cut-out of your fountain pen," Roy said, "and be sure to turn
to the right whenever you come to the end of a page and look out you
don't skid."
"Maybe I'll write my remittances," Pee-wee said darkly.
"He means his reminiscences," said Artie Van Arlen.
"I think," said Mr. Ellsworth, "that Scout Harris will be quite busy
enough forming the new patrol, and when it is formed I hope he will
present it to the First Bridgeboro Troop, B. S. A."
"That's us," said Westy Martin.
"I don't see how Pee-wee can get out of the troop," Mr. Ellsworth
laughed, "because strictly speaking, he has never been in the troop; on
the contrary the troop has been in him, as one might say."
"_Good night_, did he swallow that too?" said Roy. And he rolled
backward off the troop-room table on which he had been sitting.