“Hand me my belt axe,” said Pee-wee, after they had restored their tent
to a respectable posture and eaten a toothsome supper within it.
“What are you going to do?” Hop-toad Howard asked.
“I’m going to make a ticket office out of this grocery box. You take
this pack of cigar coupons and write _O. K. W. Harris, per H._ on the
back of each one. And you,” he said, turning to Hop-toad Willie, “take
the cardboard out of that other box and take this trail sign marker and
print _Positively no Trespassing_ in good big letters on it. Make them
good and black.”
“Shall I say under _penalty of the law_?” Willie asked.
“No, but be sure to say _Positively_; you’d better say _Absolutely
positively by my orders_. Underneath that you better put _Definitely_.”
“Shall I put ‘_violators will be reported_’?”
“No, because I don’t know how to spell violators. Anyway put
_Unconditionally_ and make a hand pointing to it.”
The following accurate reproduction of this sign is from a photograph
taken with Dorry Benton’s stalking kodak:
[Illustration]
This authoritive warning was supplemented by others which read _This is
our private float. We’ve got the use of this float. Private property.
Remember Rule 7_. On the grocery box in which a sort of pigeon-hole had
been hacked out was printed _Buy tickets here to cross this float, 5¢,
no war tax_.
Before the settlers turned in for the night the trees on both sides of
the cove were decorated with warnings and announcements. The float
itself looked like a miniature amusement enterprise with its grocery box
ticket office, festooned with a couple of scout scarfs. It stood upon
the provision keg ready for business. Behind it stood the ramshackle
camp stool for the accommodation of the ticket agent. Across the float a
black line had been drawn with the marker connecting the two loose ends
of trail, an idea borrowed from the unfathomable wilderness of the New
York subway. Close to it were the words _Follow black line_.
But this was not all. Upon the boards were sketched crude
representations of slices of pie, of saucers with arctic mountains of
ice cream (wisely labelled), and other loaded saucers labelled _fruit
pudding_, _rice pudding_ and the like, intended to influence hesitating
and penurious scouts. Across the tent was printed _Hundreds of helpings
for a nickel! Tickets accepted at messboards! Here’s your chance! Start
a run on the First National Cooking Shack! Place your nickel where it
will bring results!_
At about nine o’clock the Hop-toad Patrol, weary with travel and warfare
and art, lifted the door of its decorated tent and retired to refreshing
slumber.