HANDS OFF
“Come on back, you don’t have to be scared any more,” the kid shouted.
“Some hero,” I said.
“He’s a regular _women and children first_ scout,” Hervey said.
“Oh, they come before that with him,” said Warde.
“He charmed them with fire,” Brent said.
“They’re afraid of flame,” the kid said, very proud. “That’s something
scouts are supposed to know about. They’re supposed to know how to do
more than just talk.”
“The pleasure is ours,” I said. “You lose and we win as you usually do
if not oftener. Actions are better than words.”
By that time the two girls were coming back, very slow and careful-like.
“Are you _sure_ it’s all right?” Marjorie asked us.
“Positively guaranteed,” I said. “Sir Harris drove them before him. He’s
the only original boy scout shiveller. He shivelled them in with a
shovel of fire. He’s the pied piper of Temple Camp, named after a mince
pie. Behold the land is freed from wasps!”
The girls came back ever so careful. “Are you sure there are none
around?” they asked us. I guess they thought they could protect each
other from wasps by hanging onto each other.
Brent said, “We can now pick things up and proceed with the jelly
cones.”
“Are you sure they can’t get out?” Stella Wingate wanted to know. They
were getting a little easier in their minds, I could see that. “You are
all too silly for anything,” she said. “Pee-wee _acted_ while you
_talked_. And I believe that _you_, Mr. Hervey, or whatever they call
you, would have been just headstrong enough to knock it down. I suppose
_that’s_ what you would have called one of your _feats_.”
I said, “Sure, he’s very headstrong with his feet. How about the eats
that you were going to cook when we were rudely interrupted by the
flying corps?”
“I am going to make as many jelly cones as Pee-wee can eat, so there,”
said Marjorie. “Because he’s the hero of the day.”
“He’s the hero of every day,” Brent said, “and the nights as well. Wait
till you see him annihilate the jelly cones.”
Marjorie said, “Well, he’s going to have the chance because he deserves
it. But are you sure the wasps can’t get out?” she asked us.
“Not as long as that plug stays in,” Pee-wee said. “But if anybody took
it out——”
“Good gracious!” Marjorie said.
“We wouldn’t _touch_ it,” Stella put in, just shuddering.
“Then they’d come out good and mad,” Pee-wee said. “They’d be mad
because I circumvented them. See? But as long as it stays in there
they’re foiled.”
“Just the same as if it were sealed with tinfoil,” I told her.
“Do you all promise not to touch it?” Stella asked us.
“Because I won’t be responsible for what they do, they’re all crazy,”
Pee-wee said.
“They’ve got to _promise_,” Marjorie said. “Do _you_ promise, Mr. Hervey
Headstrong?” she asked.
“Why pick on _me_?” Hervey asked her, all the while lying on his back
with his hands behind his head, kind of careless like.
She said, “Because you have a look in your eye. I just feel you’re going
to do something _tragic_. I can just _feel_ it in my _bones_. Girls are
good at reading characters. I know your type.”
“Make Roy Blakeley promise,” Pee-wee said, all the while strutting
around very important, sort of, “because he’s the worst of the lot.”
Marjorie Eaton said, “Mr. Tall Boy with the spectacles, will you give
your solemn word of honor——”
“As a scout,” Pee-wee shouted.
“As a scout,” Marjorie said, “will you give your solemn word of honor
and cross your heart and hope to die that _none_ of these boys will
_touch_ that wasps’ nest—will you?”
“Why pick on me?” Brent said.
“Because you have spectacles and I _feel_ that you’re honorable—I just
_feel_ it,” she said. “Will you promise for all of them including
Willis, or whatever that crazy boy’s name is who lies on his back, will
you promise that not _a single, solitary one of you_ will touch that
wasps’ nest? Because I won’t make a single jelly cone till you do.”
“Make him raise up his hand in the scout salute and promise,” said
Pee-wee. “Because I know that bunch; I’ve been out with them before.”
Brent said, “Will you girls promise to make as many jelly rolls as we
can eat in half an hour?”
She said, “Why, _of course_ we will, we’ve got oceans of flour.”
“Then we agree,” he said. “On behalf of the Boy Scouts of Temple Camp we
pledge ourselves one and all separately and collectively——”
“And unanimously,” Pee-wee shouted. “Make ’em do it unanimously.”
“And conclusively and finally,” Brent said, “and thoroughly and
left-handedly.”
“No, not left-handedly,” Pee-wee shouted. “I had enough of that.”
“We promise,” Brent said. “No scout hand shall touch that wasps’ nest.
It shall remain as it is, a monument to the resourcefulness and heroism
of P. Harris.”
“Now will you start to cook the jelly cones?” Pee-wee wanted to know.
“Because, gee whiz, I’ve heard so much about them, and anyway I’m good
and hungry, so will you start making them—pretty soon?”
Brent said, very calm like, “I have no intention of touching yonder
nest. I would not tamper with the handiwork of Scout Harris. I have but
one thought now and that is to see him circumvent jelly cones as he
circumvented wasps. But just for information I would like to
inquire—perhaps you girls would be willing to step a little closer—I was
wondering what that tin thing is that our hero used to plug up the
hole.”
“_Oh, it’s the thing we make the cones with!_” cried Stella Wingate.
“Look, Marjorie, _see what he did_! He put the cone maker into the
wasps’ nest! How in the world are we ever going to make jelly cones
now?”
“Ask P. Harris,” Hervey said; “a scout is resourceful.”