So that was the end of Mr. Ragtime Sandbanks; anyway, it was the last of
him as far as we know. Harry said maybe those men would get him a job as
a detective. Gee whiz, there are worse detectives, believe me. Harry
said he was one of the greatest movie heroes that ever lived—or _didn’t_
live; what’s the difference? He said he liked him, because he didn’t
keep smiling all the time and aiming pistols like some movie heroes.
Some knocker.
We had a conclave about that five hundred dollars; that’s what Pee-wee
called it—a _conclave_. And we voted whether we should keep it or not.
Pee-wee said it would be contempt of court not to keep it, and that a
scout must obey his superiors. Skinny said if we didn’t take it, maybe
we’d all have to go to jail. Harry said it might be fun to go to jail,
because that was one of the things he had never done.
I said, “The longer you put it off, the more you’ll enjoy it; lots of
people are in too much of a hurry to go to jail.”
Cracky, we didn’t know what to do, because a scout is supposed not to
take anything for a service. We sat there in the auto talking and
talking about it, and all of us kept changing around, and I guess we
didn’t know what would be right for us to do.
I said, “If it was just a glass of soda or something like that, I’d know
what to do with it.”
Pee-wee said, “Sure, even if it was two glasses.”
“I could handle six just now,” Grove put in.
“Some bunch!” I said; “any one would think we were hunting for sodas
instead of buried treasure.”
“If I had a soda it would be a buried treasure in about ten seconds,”
Pee-wee shouted. Can you beat that kid?
Harry said, “Well, here we are talking about ice-cream sodas when the
paramount issue is a five hundred dollar check.”
“What kind of an issue?” Pee-wee piped up.
Grove said, “I vote not to take it.”
“I’ll take the same,” Pee-wee said.
“Where do you think you are; in a candy store?” I asked him.
“I mean I vote the same,” he said.
Skinny said, “I vote to take it, because I’m afraid of that judge.”
Harry said, “Well, so far everybody has voted both ways, so everybody
wins, including Judge West.”
“I vote in the positive,” our young hero said.
“You mean negative,” I told him; “what do you think this outfit is; a
storage battery?”
“I mean infirmative,” he shouted.
“Which is the best thing to do?” Harry said.
“I vote that it is,” Grove spoke up.
“What is?” Harry said.
“I vote we get some breakfast,” poor little Skinny piped up.
“Carried by an unanimous majority,” I shouted.
Then Harry said, “Now, you kids listen to me, and keep still a minute.
There’s a way of getting around that law.”
Pee-wee shouted, “Is it a long way around? Because I’m hungry.”
“No, it’s a short cut around the outside,” Harry said. “We can take the
check and beat Judge West at his own game. We can show him that boy
scouts are not to be trifled with and browbeaten....”
“You’d better not, Harry,” Pee-wee said; “safety first. Gee, I’m not
afraid of rattlesnakes or wasps or mince pie; but _judges_—good night!”
Harry said, “We’ll just take this check and when we get to Temple Camp,
if we ever do, we’ll make arrangements to have a shack or a cabin built
there; maybe we could build it ourselves; and we’ll endow it....”
“Shingles are better,” Pee-wee shouted.
“We’ll use what we need to build it,” Harry said, “and the rest we’ll
put in the bank, and we’ll get your scoutmaster and the rest of you wild
Indians interested, and we’ll have that cabin maintained for poor troops
that can’t afford the regular troop cabins. I don’t believe the trustees
will have any objection. I don’t believe that scout law means that you
can’t take money and use it to help others; it means that you can’t take
it and just buy sodas with it. That’s my idea.”
“Oh, boy! Five hundred dollars worth of sodas! Mm—mmm!” Pee-wee put in.
I said, “Yes, and if we find the bags of gold dust, we’ll add that to
it, too.”
“That’s what we will,” Harry said.
“And I’ve got a dandy idea,” Pee-wee shouted. “As long as we’ve been
mixed up with burglaries and all like that, and as long as we got this
money in that way, we’ll have that cabin named _Robbers’ Cave_.”
I said, “Sure, because really we have to thank those burglars. If it
hadn’t been for them, we wouldn’t be able to help poor scouts.”
“You’re crazy!” Pee-wee shouted.
“Roy is right,” Harry said. “We should not forget the poor, honest,
hardworking burglars who never receive credit. They help the homeless,
and feed the hungry and give poor boys a little whiff of the fresh
country air, and for this they are denounced and misjudged. Never speak
unkindly of the poor, charitable, kind-hearted burglar.”
Honest, that fellow is crazier than the rest of us. Poor little Skinny
didn’t seem to know what to think.