lf upon his skillful handling
of "the trade" in a period of acute shortage when he received a knockout
blow. In depositing the trifling price of the peppermint sticks in his
trousers pocket, he discovered there four gumdrops glued together and
clinging so affectionately that nothing could part them.

At the moment of this discovery, Scout Harris, thus driven into a corner
and standing at bay with nothing but one huge, consolidated gumdrop for
defense, heard the unmistakable sound of another car crawling over the
rocks and hubbles of that outlandish road in second gear. On, on, on, it
came like some horrible British tank.

And now again he heard voices, "We can eat about twenty of them in my
patrol y--mm. Are we hungry? Oh, no! Hot frankfurters! Oh, boy, lead me
to them. I could even eat the sign, I'm so hungry. Put her in high. What
do we care about the road?"

Pee-wee listened and waited in terrible suspense. Scouts! He knew
something about the scout capacity. Then, upon the fresh morning air
there floated another voice calling a sentence which he knew too well
it was the good scout motto. "Hey there, you, whoever you are, Mr.
Refreshment Man? Be Prepared! We're s--c--o--u--t--s we are and
we're h--u--n--g--r--e--e! We haven't had anything since breakfast at
four-thirty. We had to come around through this rocky tour or detour or
whatever you call it. Somebody ate the bridge last night. Are there any
scouts down in this South African backyard?"

If Pee-wee had not heard that familiar motto "Be Prepared," he would
have known the approaching caravan to be scouts by their talk and
banter.

Be Prepared. Pee-wee glanced at the bare counter and the empty jars and
the shiny dishpan which held nothing but Pepsy's ball of worsted and the
terrible ornamental thing that she was knitting. There they were, just
as she had laid them the day before. Poor little Pepsy. ...

Then they descended upon him as only hungry scouts can descend.
Pee-wee's glowing promises which decorated the woods (and which he could
not fulfill) had brought the party to a state of distraction. It was
a big Crackerjack touring car overflowing with scouts and driven by a
smiling scoutmaster. It seemed as if they ought to have been pressed in
and down with a shovel like ice cream in a quart box.

"For the love of--" one of them began.

"Look what's here, it's a scout."

"That?" shouted another, "Let's have the magnifying glass, will you?"

Pee-wee str