A TRAGIC PREDICAMENT
So there he sat upon his precarious perch trying to reassume the posture
which insured a good balance, clinging to the trunk with one hand and to
the banana with the other.
And now that the encounter which had almost resulted in a tragic
sacrifice was over, and while our scout hero pauses triumphant, it may
be fitting to apologize to the reader for introducing our hero in the
act of eating. But indeed it was a question of introducing him in the
act of eating or of not introducing him at all.
For a story of Pee-wee Harris is necessarily more or less a story of
food. And this is a story abounding in cake and pie and waffles and
crullers and cookies and hot frankfurters. There will be found in it
also ice cream cones and jawbreakers and cocoanut bars and potatoes
roasted on sticks. Heroes of stories may have starved on desert islands
but there is to be none of that here.
In this tale, if you follow the adventures of our scout hero (who now at
last appears before you as a star), you shall find lemonade side by side
with first aid, and all the characters shall receive their just
desserts, some of them (not to mention any names) two helpings.
So there he sat upon the branch, the mascot of the Raven Patrol, with an
interior like the Mammoth Cave and a voice like the whisperings of the
battle zone in France. Take a good look at him while he is quiet for ten
seconds hand running. Everything about him is tremendous—except his
size. He is built to withstand banter, ridicule and jollying; his sturdy
nature is guaranteed proof against the battering assaults of unholy
mirth from other scouts; his round face and curly hair are the delight
of the girls of Bridgeboro; his loyalty is as the mighty rock of
Gibraltar. A bully little scout he is—a sort of human Ford.
The question of removing the letter from the banana and getting rid of
the banana (in the proper way) now presented itself to him. He took a
bite of the banana and the letter almost fell. He then tried releasing
his hold upon the trunk but that would not do. He then extracted the
letter with his teeth which effectually prevented him from eating the
banana.
What to do?
Steadying himself with one hand (he could not let go the trunk for so
much as a moment), he brought the banana to his lips, held it between
his teeth and took the letter in his unoccupied hand. As he bit into the
banana the part remaining trembled and hung as on a thread; another
moment and it would drop. The predicament was tragic. Slowly, but surely
and steadily, the remainder of the banana broke away and _fell_—into the
hand that held the letter.
Holding both letter and banana in the one perspiring palm, Pee-wee
devoured first the one and then the other. Both were delicious, the
letter particularly. It had one advantage over the banana, for he could
only devour the banana once, whereas he devoured the contents of the
letter several times. He wished that bananas and doughnuts were like
letters....