PEE-WEE ON SCOUTING
"Absolutely, positively," I said; "he'll be there at ten-thirty. Do you
want him to bring references?"
"We should say _not_," Grace Bentley said; "the _idea_! What we saw in
the pictures was reference enough."
_Good night_, you should have seen Pee-wee's face. He just stood there,
gazing about as if he were in a trance.
One of the girls said, "Won't it be _adorable_! We're going to have
chicken."
"Cooking chicken is his favorite indoor sport," Westy said. "How do you
like your roast chicken; fried or stewed? It's all the same to him."
I took out my scout note-book and made believe to write things down.
"We'll just make up the menu," I said.
All of a sudden Pee-wee came out of his trance and shouted, "You mean
me?"
"Menu," I said; "yes, they mean you." Then I said, "Would you like to
have the fried potatoes stewed, or would you prefer to have them mashed
with the skins on?"
One of the girls said to Pee-wee, "Don't you mind him, he's just _too_
silly."
"Do you prefer your fried eggs in the shells, or would you like them
roasted in ice-water? It doesn't make any difference to him," Connie
said.
"Don't you pay any attention to them," Grace Bentley said to Pee-wee;
"some of us will come over in the boat for you to-morrow morning, and
when the dinner is ready, we want all of you to come, won't you?"
"Sure, we'll hike around the shore," I said, "and get up good appetites.
We'll be there at about twelve-sixty. We'll come around the longest way,
so we'll get good and hungry."
"Oh, that will be just _lovely_," they said, "and we'll have a perfectly
scrumptious time. Do you like pie? We've got a whole big jar full of
mince meat."
"You have to be careful about mince pie," Pee-wee said; "it's better,
maybe, not to eat mince pie."
"Who's a coward?" Westy piped up. "Do you think a scout is afraid of a
piece of mince pie?"
"Oh, it will be just _dear_," another one of the girls said, and then
they all crowded around Pee-wee and began saying, "You'll _surely_ be
ready, won't you? We'll come over for you at ten o'clock. And we'll have
everything ready for you. We've got lots of flour and seasoning----"
I said, "What kind of seasoning; summer or winter?"
They told Pee-wee not to mind us, and that we probably wouldn't stop
talking till our mouths were busy doing something else.
"What--what--time did you say you'd come?" he began stammering.
"At ten o'clock, and you'll be ready, won't you?"
"I--ye--yes," he stammered out.
"Positively?" Grace Bentley said.
"You--you can--you know, you never--kind of--maybe--you never can be
sure of anything," he blurted out.
"But say you'll _surely_ come," she hammered at him. "Will you?"
He said, "I guess--sure--yop." And he looked all around as if he was
going to start to run.
"Absolutely, positively guaranteed," I told them; "a scout can be
_trusted_."
So then we helped them off with their boat and their canoes, and they
started across the lake in the dark. We said we'd paddle them over and
then hike back through the woods, but they wouldn't let us, because
there wasn't room enough and anyway, they said they wanted to show us
that there were some things girls could do. They rowed and paddled
pretty good, too; I have to admit it.
Pee-wee didn't go down to the shore with the rest of us, but just stood
where he was, like a statue. He was in a kind of a trance, I guess.
As we came near him, Westy said, "Of course, they don't row very well,
or paddle either, but they're _trying_. All they have to do is to
_try_."
"Oh, sure," I said; "if you can't do a thing, just go ahead and do it
anyway. You have to be resourceful. You have to have plenty of
_initials_."
"Now you take making dressing for roast chicken, for instance," Connie
said; "all you have to do is to know how. It's a cinch."
"And if you don't know how," I said; "do it anyway. It's as easy as
pie."
"Oh, pie's a cinch," Wig said.
"Those girls will learn," I said; "they shouldn't get discouraged."
"They should be pitied, not blamed," Westy said.
All of a sudden Pee-wee exploded. He sounded like a munition factory
going up. "You think you're smart, all of you, don't you!" he hollered.
"A scout is smart," Westy said.
"A scout can do anything," I said.
"He is resourceful--it's in the handbook," Wig said, very sober like.
"It's in the handbook--it's in the handbook--it's in the handbook,"
Pee-wee fairly yelled, "that a scout has to be----"
"Helpful," I said; "he has to be helpful to women."
"You make me sick!" he fairly shrieked.
"You'll be the one to make _us_ sick," Westy put in.
"Do you think I'm going to do that?" he fairly screamed; "do you
think--do you think--do you think----"
"Three strikes out," Connie shouted.
"Do you think I'm a _fool_?" Pee-wee finished.
"_A scout's honor is to be trusted_," I said; (that's scout law number
one) "_if he were to violate his honor----_"
"You make me tired," Pee-wee yelled; "a scout has got to be
_cautious_--it says so--he's got to leap--I mean look--he's, he's got to
consider others--just because somebody that ought to know how to do a
thing that he doesn't know how to do asks somebody to do something that
the other person won't learn to do if the other person does it for him,
because that isn't being resourceful, if somebody else does that thing
for you, and so the other person doesn't learn how to do it himself--do
you mean--do you mean to tell me--that that's being a good scout?"
"Sure it is," I told him; "it's just the same as if a person that wants
to do something, doesn't do it because if he does, he won't. Why then,
how could the other person do something that somebody else wanted
another person not to do----"
"You'd have to have a crowbar," Westy said.
"Pee-wee's right and we're wrong, as he usually is," Connie shouted.