Roy Blakeley's Camp on Wheels Part 7

CHAPTER X

SCOUT HARRIS

That was some parade! The whole five of us marched up and down Main Street looking as sober as we could, Pee-wee strutting along at the head of the line and every now and then getting his feet tangled up with the edge of the big frames, and stumbling all over himself.

"Don't laugh," I said; "every one of us is as bad as another, if not worse; keep a straight face and march in step; the public is with us."

Oh, boy, you ought to have seen the people laugh. I guess mostly they laughed because we kept such straight faces, except when Pee-wee stumbled all over himself; then we had to howl. Everybody stopped and stared at us and read the signs and laughed.

Pretty soon we pa.s.sed an automobile full of girls that was standing in front of a store. They were camp-fire girls, because they had on khaki middies or whatever you call them with kind of, you know, braid things like snakes around their necks. One of them had a banner that said _Camp Smile Awhile_.

Pee-wee turned around and whispered, "Did you see that girl smile when she looked at me?"

"Smile!" I said, "that's nothing; the first time I ever saw you I laughed out loud. Keep your eyes straight ahead and look pretty--as if you were posing for animal crackers."

When we got to the corner, Pee-wee turned around and marched back, just because he wanted to pa.s.s those girls again. He made himself as tall as he could, so as he wouldn't trip over the placards. Honest, he looked just like a turtle standing up on its hind legs and waddling along and poking its head around this way and that.

"Don't laugh," he said, just as we pa.s.sed the girls.

"Oh, _isn't_ he just too _cute_ for _anything_!" one of them said.

"Isn't he just a little dear!" another one said.

"Oh, me, oh, my," I whispered to Westy who was just in front of me.

"Pee-wee's got them started. Isn't he the little heart-breaker?"

He marched back again when we got to the other corner, standing up as high as he could, so as to lift the placards and looking straight ahead of him with a sober face.

"_Oh_, I think he's just as _cute_ as he can _be_," one of the girls in the auto said.

Just then a little dog came running out of one of the stores and scooted between Pee-wee's legs and _good night_, down he went, sprawling on the ground with one leg kicking through one of the big placards and his arms all mixed up in the rope.

"Watch your step," I said. I just couldn't help it.

"Where's that dog?" Pee-wee yelled, all the while trying to straighten things out and get up. "I'll--I'll----"

"A scout is always kind to animals," Wig said; "the poor little dog was in a hurry, that was all."

"That dog was going scout pace," I said; "you should worry."

By now, Pee-wee was all tangled up with the two big placards and the rope that had held them together, and the whole business, Pee-wee, placards, rope and all, looked like a double sailor's knot having an epileptic fit. Laugh! We simply screamed.

"Get up, you're blocking the traffic," I said.

"It's got around my leg," he shouted.

"That's what you get for trying to show off," Westy told him. "Talk about your soup-stirring scene! It can't be mentioned alongside of this."

By now, Pee-wee had managed to scramble to his feet, and he stood there staring around as if he didn't know what had struck him. One of the placards was all torn and muddy and hanging by one rope and the other piece of rope was wound around his leg. Honest, I never knew that one little dog could make such a wreck.

"You look as if you'd been torpedoed," Wig said; "stand still till we brush you off. Turn around and smile and look pretty."

By that time all the girls had gotten out of the auto and were crowding around Pee-wee, brus.h.i.+ng him off and asking him if he was hurt.

"Oh, it's _just_ too _bad_," one of them said; "his nice khaki jacket is torn. I'm going to fix it. We've got needles and thread and everything right in the machine, because we're on our way to camp."

"I don't need to have it fixed," Pee-wee said; "I can fix it myself.

Scouts can do everything like that."

"Yes, but they can't sew," the girl said.

"Sure, they can do everything," Pee-wee told her. "Maybe you think," he said, all the while pounding the dust out of his clothes, "maybe you think that just because I fell down--gee, that could happen to the smartest man--even--even--_Edison_----"

"Sure," I said, "lots of times Edison fell down."

"Scouts can do anything," Pee-wee said. I guess after what had happened he wanted to let those girls know that just because a scout fell down, it didn't prove he wasn't smart.

"Hurrah for P. Harris," I said.

"Oh, is _he_ P. Harris?" one of the girls said; "Oh, isn't that _glorious_! Is he the one that stirs soup?"

By that I knew they must have seen one of the handbills.

"Oh, we're _all_ coming to-night to see him stir it," she said; "our camp is just across the lake from Ridgeboro. Don't you think Ridgeboro is a _poky_ old place? We'll canoe over. We're camping over the holiday and we call our camp, _Camp Smile Awhile_. Isn't that just a _peachy_ name?"

Connie said, "I should think a girls' camp ought to be named _Camp Giggle a Lot_."

"Oh, aren't you _perfectly terrible_!" one of them said; "the _idea! Is it ten cents to get in? Have you really got a railroad car of your _very own_? Oh, I think that's just simply _scrumptious_. I wish I were a boy."

"That's nothing," Pee-wee said; "we hike hundreds of miles. Once we got lost on a mountain--we didn't care. We were lost two days. We could have been lost three if we'd wanted to."

"Only what's the use of being extravagant?" I said.

"Once I fell down a cliff forty feet high," Pee-Wee said; "that's nothing."

"Oh, and didn't you _kill_ yourself?" one of the girls wanted to know.

"Sure he did," Westy said; "but he's all right now."

"It's fine being a boy," Pee-wee said; "gee, I feel sorry for girls."

"Oh, and you can sew, too?" one of them asked him. "And cook?"

"Cook!" I said. "He used to be the chef in the Waldorf Castoria."

"Scouts have to know how to do everything," Pee-wee told her; "because suppose a scout is alone in the woods; he has to cook his dinner, doesn't he? He has to know how to do everything for himself, see?

That's why I'll sew this jacket myself. That's what you call resourcefulness. A scout has to be full of that, see?"