Pee-Wee Harris Adrift Part 23

"I can prove you're wrong about him," said Pee-wee, "because alligators don't go to school and----"

"Won't you have another, Walter?"

"One for good measure, hey?" said Pee-wee. "Anyway, how much do you want to bet he won't go to school now? Because he will, because scouts have to do what they're supposed to do and I bet you he'll----"

"Another, Walter?"

"I'll take a pink one this time. I bet you he'll go to school and be all right on account of starting to be a scout. I got some money for grandstand seats on our island to see the boat races and I'll treat you to a soda."

"Thank you," laughed Miss Carlton, "but I think not now."

Miss Carlton knew Pee-wee well enough (for he had been in her cla.s.s) not to inquire particularly about his multifarious adventures. She knew that they were too numerous and complicated for casual recital.

Nor had she any faith in the influence of scouting on Keekie Joe. She did not believe that any power in the world could tempt Keekie Joe to school on a Monday, because Keekie Joe's partiality to liberal week ends was well known to her.

"Well, I only hope it will do him some good,"; said Miss Carlton dubiously.

"You mean scouting? _Sure_ it will. You just wait and see. So long, maybe I'll see you on Monday."

"Won't you have one more?" the tempter urged.

Pee-wee hesitated. "I'll take a cocoanut one," he said, "because they're small. So long, I'll see you later."

Thus it was that when Pee-wee went back to the island, he did take something with him which was not named in the guessing of his friends.

It was the heavy responsibility which he bore to make scouting good in the eyes of Miss Carlton. His promise, made at the altar of Bennett's candy counter and solemnized by a dozen a.s.sorted dainties, must be fulfilled.

He found his friends sprawling around their dying campfire on the island. Townsend was lying on his back as usual, his hands clasped behind his head, his eyes fixed on the quiet stars. Crowds thronged the main street of Bridgeboro on that Sat.u.r.day night but the island lay peacefully against the sh.o.r.e of the wood skirting the river and the town might have been a hundred miles on for all the campers could tell.

"Well, we've had quite a week," said Townsend; "and now that we're started I hope we'll stick together and make a real, honest-to-goodness patrol. Joe is with us to the last ditch--out for the second rate badge----"

"You mean the second _cla.s.s_ badge," Pee-wee thundered.

"Brownie is going to be steward or whatever you----"

"Don't talk about stew," said Billy.

"Pardon me, my fault," said Townsend, "only I'd like to rise to remark while I'm lying here that I think we're going to make a pretty nifty patrol. Joe wouldn't go in swimming on account of his mother; couldn't force him to it, so there you are."

"And he's going to school Monday," said Pee-wee; "because I met his teacher in the--the--eh--the store."

"Candy store?"

"How did you know?" Pee-wee gasped.

"Just an inspiration," said Townsend.

"And I told her he's going to school every single day after this," said Pee-wee. "So are you?" he demanded of Keekie Joe.

"Posilutely he is, if not more so," said Townsend. "Every day except Sat.u.r.day. He's even willing to eat hunter's stew and a fellow that will do that doesn't mind school; he can stand anything. How about that, Joe?"

"I gotta do what you sez," said Joe.

"There you are," said Townsend. "What more do you want? We're _all_ going to school because the school won't come to us. So now let's tell riddles till we get tired of hearing each other talk and then we'll turn in. And we'll camp here all day to-morrow and to-morrow night, and the next day-school."

"I know a riddle," shouted Pee-wee. "Why is a stu----"

"Stop!" shouted Townsend.

"I was going to ask a riddle about a stu----"

A chorus of protest drowned his voice.

"A stu--" he roared, "debaker. It's a riddle about a Studebaker car!"

"Let's tell Ford stories!" shouted Brownie.

"I know a lot of them!" shouted Pee-wee.

"Why is this island like a Ford car?" Townsend asked.

"Why?"

"What's the answer?"

"Because there are a lot of nuts on it," said Townsend. "Why is Scout Harris like a Ford? Because he's small but makes a lot of noise.

Horrible! Here's a better one. Why is----"

"I know one! I know one!" shouted Pee-wee.

"Let's see if we can catch some eels," said Townsend.

CHAPTER x.x.xII

VENGEANCE

On Sunday night they turned in for their last sleep on the island.

That the island had proved a quitter on two momentous occasions had not prejudiced them against it. With all its faults they loved it still.

The only thing they had against it was that it would not remain still.

Though it was small and of an unromantic squareness, it seemed the center of a vast empire during the week which was now ending and they were sorry at the thought of leaving it. But at least the Alligator Patrol was started and, like the island itself, nothing could stop it.

The night was chilly so they slept in the tent. So profound was their sleep that they did not hear the dipping oars of an approaching boat which came down the river after midnight. This boat was dilapidated and leaky but it was a vision of beauty compared to its occupants.

These were none other than Slats Corbett, imperial head of Barrel Alley, and his official staff, consisting of Skinny Mattenburg and Spider McCurren. Such nocturnal excursions were not uncommon with them.

Nor were they surprised to see the new habitat of their official sentinel bobbing against the wooded sh.o.r.e. Indeed, some tidings of Joe's adventurous career (since he had run away to sea) had penetrated to Barrel Alley and the only thing which had prevented the alleyites from making an a.s.sault upon the island was the presence there of Townsend Ripley. Him they had come to regard with a kind of superst.i.tious awe because he was so precipitate and decisive.

The fact that he had allowed no time for preliminary threats and profanity, rather baffled these hoodlums. He had a quaint way of cutting out all the customary boasts and menaces preceding an encounter, and going straight to the heart of the matter.