Читать книгу Pee-wee Harris, Mayor for a Day - Percy Keese Fitzhugh - Страница 11

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There flashed through Pee-wee’s active mind visions of how the First Bridgeboro Troop (his permanent scout anchorage) had started. It had been financed by Mr. John Temple. Perhaps here again was an opportunity to do something big in scouting. What would not a hundred dollars do for a budding patrol? Tents, cooking sets, archery outfits, perhaps a patrol radio set! Things all necessary in scouting. A hundred dollars! As for the prize that would come in this package, Bully Bulton in person, that did not trouble Pee-wee. He had no particular grudge against a boy whose voice was no louder than his own. And he knew that the purpose of scouting was not to exclude bossy and unpopular boys, but rather to include and improve them....

But there was the full patrol.

Pee-wee was not too ready to believe Bully Bulton. He was a natural-born skeptic, especially where the fabulous sum of one hundred dollars was concerned. As we have already seen, he believed in going to original sources where boys were involved, that is, to their parents.

“You’re a-scared to take me to your father,” he said. “You’re a-scared to let me ask him myself.”

But here Bully Bulton was as good as his word. Jumping up with alacrity, he said, “Come ahead.”

Pee-wee was in for it now. Bully Bulton was going to make good for once.

“You’ll just start and go a couple of blocks and then you’ll laugh and turn around—I know you,” Pee-wee said.

“I cross my heart I’ll take you to my father,” Bully Bulton said.

Pee-wee contemplated him skeptically. “All right,” he said finally, “wait a second till I get a couple of cookies.”

He had not the slightest idea how he was going to accommodate this new and sensational turn of affairs to his already full patrol. But it was Pee-wee’s habit to go head first and afterwards take note of where he was at.

Mr. Bulton owned a large hay, grain and coal establishment in Bridgeboro and to him Charlie presented the diminutive scout organizer and producer. Charlie had certainly made good handsomely, with no taint of bluffing. Pee-wee was the least bit embarrassed as he stood before the big, good-natured man who swung around in his chair, cocked his cigar up in his mouth and said, “So you’re a scout, huh? You’re Doctor Harris’ kid, ain’t you?”

“I’m a chipmunk. I can make a noise like one,” said Pee-wee.

“Gosh!” said Mr. Bulton. “Yes, go ahead.”

Pee-wee emitted a piercing squeak. “Don’t you think that’s a peach of a name—chipmunks?” he said. “I can trail a chipmunk too. Even once I trailed a snake, only it turned out to be a mark from a feller dragging a stick, so it didn’t count, but anyway I got the badge for stalking.”

“And you kids go to camp, huh? And live outdoors, and learn to swim?”

“Suuure! And we cook ourselves and everything.”

“Cook yourselves?” laughed Mr. Bulton.

“I don’t mean we get cooked,” Pee-wee said, “but we cook things ourselves—potatoes and everything, and——”

“Well now, you listen here,” said Mr. Bulton. “This youngster of mine isn’t cooked, but he’s half-baked—know what that is? Now you fellers take him and make a real honest-to-goodness scout out of him. Take him away up to Mr. Temple’s camp up there and show him how to swim, and if you catch him teasing little girls hammer the life out of him. There’s a hundred dollars goes with him with my regards to the Chipmunks. As soon as he’s in you fellers get a check. Now I understand you’re the big scout around here, so I’m going to leave it to you, see?”

“Yes, sir,” said Pee-wee, greatly flattered.

“See if you can make a regular all-around scout out of this feller. You got a rule about tellin’ the truth, haven’t you? Well, show him that. Now clear out of here, both of you.”

Mr. Bulton turned abruptly to confer with a waiting clerk. But his son ran back as Pee-wee was going out and said in an undertone: “And I get the bicycle too, don’t I, pop?”

“Did you ever know me to break my word?” said poor Mr. Bulton.