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CHAPTER II
AT THE COUNTER

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But now for the time being, the Martin Johnson expedition was relegated to the rear in Pee-Wee’s active mind. The bulletin had caught his interest. As he strode along the almost deserted Main Street toward Bennett’s he thought of a “dandy scheme.” He planned (or to use his own favorite expression invented) an enterprise which would assure him of favorable consideration by the powers that be in scouting. With such prestige as he should win as a “go-getter” how could they do otherwise than kneel at his feet and beg him to accompany the Martin Johnson Expedition?

“Geeeeeee whiz,” he mused as he strode along with a darkly ruminating scowl on his round face, “I can scoutch I mean scout out a lot of scoutch—scouts—for scouting all right. Geeee whiz, leave it to me. I can get as many as a—a hundred fellows, maybe even fifty, that’s easy. I bet I’ll have my picture in Boy’s Life on account of how I’m a propagater* all right.”

In the quiet of the darkness outside of Bennett’s Fresh Confectionery stood a small farm wagon hitched to a lanky horse. It was piled with empty crates and upon the rough board seat dozed the proprietor of this ramshackle outfit. On the side of the wagon was crudely printed:

CLAUDIUS TIEBELS

Fresh Farm Products

HICKSON’S CROSSROADS

NEW JERSEY

Plunk in the middle of the sidewalk lay a fugitive apple which had probably rolled out of the wagon during the delivery of fresh farm products to Schmittenberger’s Home Market, next door to Bennett’s.

Pee-Wee picked up the apple and approached the dozing figure on the driver’s seat. He knew that this nocturnal visitor having disposed of his load was simply pausing before returning to his rural paradise. “Hey Mister,” he ventured, “can I have this apple? I found it on the sidewalk.”

“Why not?” answered the drowsy figure without rousing himself in the least.

Pee-Wee did not know any reason why not and he strode into Bennett’s munching the apple and sat down on one of the revolving stools before the delectable soda fountain. Beside him was perched a small brown faced boy eating a plate of ice cream. The jovial, white aproned Mr. Bennett smiled down upon our hero from across the counter and the little boy cast furtive glances sideways, duly impressed and a little fearful of the martial splendor of the scout. He was, withal, a sensible little boy and he wondered why Pee-Wee wore an aluminum frying pan dangling from his scout belt. But he did not dare to ask.

Pee-Wee, however, was neither bashful nor reticent. He had with him in conspicuous view every facility of self defense—jackknife, belt-axe, even a can opener, though his most potent weapon, his tongue, was at the moment engaged in a terrific assault upon the apple.

“Give me a banana split with a lot of chocolate on it,” he demanded. “Put two spoonfuls on like you do for Roy Blakeley because he said you did.”

“How are you going to eat a banana split and an apple at the same time?” Mr. Bennett asked.

“Goodness gracious, he can do that,” chirped Mr. Bennett’s fifteen year old daughter from the rear of the store. “Roy Blakeley says when he eats an apple he always eats the core first so nobody will ask him for it afterwards.”

“That shows how much of a fool girls are,” Pee-Wee roared, the while wrestling with the apple and the banana split, “that they listen to his crazy nonsense and anyway girls don’t know anything about food they’re so smart they don’t know anything about it because they can’t tell mushrooms from toadstools and I can prove it even I know what’s a good antidope for getting poisoned by toadstools only I don’t do it because I’m a shout I mean——”

“I’ll say you are,” chirped the girl.

“I mean a scout,” he shouted, trying to talk and eat the apple and the banana split at the same time, “and anyway I brought more scouts in here than any other fellow did I’ll leave it to Mr. Bennett, and I’m going to bring a lot more in because I’m starting to be a go gettem getter (a large bite of the apple) and I’m going to start in (a generous spoonful of banana split) and scoutch out scoutishly out for scouting—right away I’m going to start.”

By this time Agnes Bennett had come around behind the counter for she, like everyone else, enjoyed seeing Pee-Wee in action. “Isn’t that just scrumptuous?” she said.

Pee-Wee contemplated her, his mouth dripping with chocolate gravy. He sensed her mischievous spirit of ridicule (he was always on his guard against girls) and was particularly aroused to combat by reason of the diminutive admirer who almost forgot his ice cream in his awe of the hero.

“Even they’re afraid of boats, too,” he managed to ejaculate through his preoccupied mouth, “and mice too especially rats, they scream when they step into them.”

“I never stepped into a mouse,” said the girl. Mr. Bennett smilingly poured a little more chocolate over Pee-Wee’s plate as if to enliven him to further exhibition.

“I’m going to bring a lot of fellows in here,” Pee-Wee said as he shovelled up the luscious concoction with assaults on the apple at intervals.

“If they try to stay out I won’t get ’em—let ’em—I’ll say it’s a go and I’ll—I’ll what it says—I’m going to scoutch the thought (a huge mouthful) so I’m going to scoutchingly scoutch the unscoutly—scout, thought. I’m going to scout it that I can’t scout it for scoutishly scouts out scoutishly for scouts—SCOUTING! I’m going to go and get a lot of members. That shows you what a lot of sense girls haven’t got,” he confided to the little boy next to him. “That they’re all the time giggling; even at camp they’re afraid to sit down on account of ants and crickets especially spiders—even they don’t know that spiders have six eyes.”

“That’s better than having six tongues,” Agnes Bennett observed.

Contemptuously Pee-Wee now subsided into rapid assault on his banana split. “I’m going to scout thoughts all right that I can scoutch—scoutch—ishly I’m going to scout out scouts for scoutchingly—so do you want to join my new patrol? It hasn’t got any name yet——”

“It hasn’t got any existence yet,” said Agnes Bennett.

“Sure it hasn’t because it isn’t started,” Pee-Wee said in his consuming preoccupation with the diminishing split. “I don’t have to bother with an existence at the start, do I?”

“Oh goodness, gracious me, isn’t he excruciating!” the girl managed to say in her uncontrollable mirth. “And where did you get the idea about scoutching out scoutish thoughts that you’ll scoutishly—oh, I think he’s just too cute!”

“It’s on a bulletin,” Pee-Wee said darkly, “It’s on a bulletin at scout meeting how I got to go get ’em it means scouts to be members——”

“Now finish the apple, then tell us,” the girl slyly suggested.

“Did you think I wasn’t going to finish it?” Pee-Wee roared at her.

“Oh, I never dreamed such a thing,” said the girl.

* He probably meant propogandist.

Pee-Wee Harris in Darkest Africa

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