The hike to Temple Camp was uneventful; it was only after Pee-wee’s
arrival there that things began to happen. On the way they discussed the
question of Pee-wee resigning from the Ravens to form a new patrol. That
would enable Artie, the Ravens’ patrol leader, to ask Billy Simpson of
Bridgeboro to come in. That, indeed, was Artie’s main reason for hiking
to North Deadham; he wished for an opportunity to talk freely over a
period of several days with the irrepressible little Raven and to
ascertain (as far as it was possible for any human being to ascertain)
something of the plans that were tumbling over each other in that
fertile mind.
The Ravens did not wish to get rid of Pee-wee, but since Pee-wee was
rather a troop institution than a patrol member, Artie thought it might
be as well to give Billy Simpson a chance if Pee-wee really intended to
form a new patrol.
“You see, Kid,” said Artie; “you can start a new patrol but Billy
couldn’t, because he’s new at the game. But I wouldn’t want it to seem--
you know--kind of as if we were letting you out--see?”
“S-u-re,” said Pee-wee reassuringly; “I’ll say I discharged the Ravens
and then nobody’ll think anything against me, hey? We’ll kind of let
people think that I got rid of you, hey? But I can come and have supper
with you sometimes, hey? Maybe I’ll bring my new patrol, hey?”
“Have a heart,” said Grove.
“Be sure to come,” said Artie, smiling. “Come when we’re out. Now
listen, Kid, you’ve been in the Ravens ever since we started--”
“I was in it before you,” said Pee-wee; “I was a Raven before there were
any Ravens--”
“I know it, now listen, _please_. You’re the kind of a scout that can
get a patrol started easily because you’re a good getter; you’ve got
personality.”
“Is that anything like adenoids?” Pee-wee wanted to know.
“No, it’s something that you can’t explain.”
“I bet it’s like algebra, hey?”
“Something like that, yes.”
“I bet everybody’ll want to join my new patrol on account of me being a
star scout, hey?”
“The trouble is that the loose scouts at camp come from all over the
country and what are you going to do when they have to go home?” Artie
asked thoughtfully.
“I had an inspiration,” said Pee-wee.
“You having many of those lately?” Grove asked.
“_S-u-re_, I have them all the time, I had four yesterday. I’m going to
have a correspondence patrol.”
“A what?”
“Didn’t you ever hear of a correspondence school--members all over the
country?”
“Oh, I see,” said Artie. “The only trouble is that it will evaporate in
September.”
“Now you see it, now you don’t,” said Grove.
“It’ll be a patrol with lots of branches, like,” said Pee-wee; “just
like the Standard Oil Company. Do you see? And when they go home each
scout starts a patrol, no matter where. It’s kind of like a--a
epidemic.”
“Worse than that,” said Artie.
“And I’m going to be the head of them all,” Pee-wee said.
“And you’re going to bring them all to dinner?” inquired Grove.
“You’ll have a couple of million scouts under you in a year or two,
Kid,” laughed Artie; “it’s a good idea.”
“I invented it,” said Pee-wee. “You take a patrol. A patrol’s a patrol,
isn’t it?”
“Absolutely,” said Grove.
“All right,” enthused Pee-wee, “if a patrol breaks up that’s the end of
it, isn’t it? But the more this one breaks up the more patrols there
are. I thought of it when I was eating a banana yesterday.”
“All right, Kiddo,” laughed Artie; “all I want to be sure of is that
you’re not going to be sore if we take Billy Simpson in. Because I want
to write to him and ask him to come up to camp and be initiated.”
“I’ll initiate him,” Pee-wee burst forth.
“And if this doesn’t work,” said Artie, “there’s plenty of material home
in Bridgeboro.”
“Sure,” said Pee-wee, “I’d ask Carl Hansen because his father keeps a
bakery and, anyway, I’m in the troop just the same, gee whiz, I’m with
the Silver Foxes a lot.”
Grove and Artie looked at each other and walked along thoughtfully for a
short distance. They could not just bring themselves to let Pee-wee
leave the Raven Patrol, of which he was the main “rave.” He was theirs.
They had not as many awards as the Elks and the Silver Foxes but at
least they had Pee-wee. He was their great exhibit.
Artie was perplexed and just a little troubled at heart. The three
patrols were full, the only way to let Billy Simpson in was to start a
new patrol. It seemed likely enough that Pee-wee could do that; he was a
born propagandist, a walking advertisement of scouting, but Artie did
not want to drop him only to see him plunge into some outlandish
enterprise which would land him nowhere.
He knew Pee-wee thoroughly, and he knew that Pee-wee, though he loved
novelty and dealt in every manner of colossal scheme, after all loved
his troop and his patrol and the fine, wholesome life of scouting. Good
scout and good patrol leader that he was, Artie was not going to let
Pee-wee be the victim of his own delusions. Moreover, now that it came
to the point of actually deciding the matter he had a strange feeling
something akin to homesickness at the thought of Pee-wee leaving the
Ravens. Pee-wee’s own irresponsible and cheerful willingness to do so
rather increased this feeling.
“Well, Kid,” said Artie finally, “as Mr. Ellsworth says, there’s room
for a half a dozen more patrols in Bridgeboro, and you’re the scout to
round some of those fellows up--”
“That’s my middle name, rounding fellers up,” Pee-wee interrupted with
prompt enthusiasm, “and anyway I’ll see you just the same, because it’s
all kind of like one family, isn’t it?”
“You said it,” said Grove.
“Sure it is,” said Pee-wee, “and you can borrow my field-glass any time
you want to just the same as you always did and--”
“Don’t, Kid,” said Artie, visibly affected.
“And I’ll let you use my cooking set for the patrol just the same as I
always did, that’s one thing sure; gee whiz, you can use it whenever you
want.”
They walked along in silence for a few minutes. In an hour more their
weary legs would be swinging from the station platform at Catskill,
while they waited for the Temple Camp bus. Oh, how good that old bus
seat would feel! And the camp!
Pee-wee had skipped a summer at camp (the memorable summer spent at
Everdoze) and he longed to be among the familiar scenes once more. So
they hiked along, Grove kicking a stone before him, Artie silent,
thoughtful. Only Pee-wee seemed bubbling with joy. Pee-wee who was going
to be dropped. At least that was the way it seemed to Artie.
The day was drawing to an end, the flaky clouds in the west were bright
with the first tints of the declining sunlight. The birds were still.
High above them a hawk sped on its way, hastening toward the dark hills.
Beyond those hills was the camp. A dainty little squirrel sat on a stone
wall washing its face as if getting ready to go down to supper. And away
far off, far enough for its harshness to be mellowed by the distance, a
locomotive whistled, long, low, melodious. It seemed a part of nature.
“Anyway, we had a peach of a hike,” Pee-wee said; “gee, I hope they have
corn fritters for supper, don’t you?”
But neither Grove nor Artie answered.
At Catskill, Artie, arousing himself from his pre-occupation, said,
“Look here, Kid; we’ve got to decide about it now, because I want to
send a letter to Billy Simpson. If he’s coming, he’s got to come
Wednesday. Hanged if I know what to do,” he added, perplexed, and
perhaps a little troubled in his conscience, “I wish Mr. Ellsworth was
here. What do _you_ think? If your--your--what d’you call it?--your
scheme up here doesn’t work, do you think you can round up a patrol at
home?”
“You leave it to me,” said Pee-wee; “don’t all my schemes succeed? You
just leave it to me, I’ll fix it.”
“It’s all right then?”
“_S-u-re_, it’s all right.”
Still Artie hesitated. “I don’t know what to do, Kid,” he said.
“I’ll tell you what to do,” said Pee-wee in a burst of inspiration;
“let’s go get some ice cream cones.”