a couple of cookies in it." The
postman knew Pee-wee. "Here you go," the torturer said grimly, "take it
or not, suit yourself."

"Can't you see both hands are busy?" the victim pled. "Two bites--a
scout is supposed not to waste anything--he's supposed--he's
supposed--wait a minute--he's supposed if he starts a thing to
finish it--wait, I'm not going to take a bite, I'm only giving you an
argument--can't you wait--"

"Here you go, last chance, take it," the postman said, a faint smile
hovering at the corner of his mouth, "one, two--"

Out of Pee-wee's wrath and anguish came an inspiration.

"Stick the letter in the banana," he said, holding the banana down.

"I don't know about that," the postman said, ruefully.

"I know about it," Pee-wee thundered down at him. "You said I had to
take it or not; that letter belongs to me and you, have to deliver it.
This banana, it's--it's the same as a mail box--you stick the letter in
the banana. You think you're so smart, you thought you'd make me
throw away the banana, naaah, didn't you? I wouldn't do that, not even
for--for--secretary--for the postmaster--general, I wouldn't! A scout
has resource."

"All right, you win," said the postman, good humoredly, "only look out
you don't fall; here you go, hold on tight."

Clutching to the knotty projection of trunk, Pee-wee reached the other
hand as low as he could and the postman, smiling, stuck the corner of
the coveted letter into the mealy substance of the banana.

"You win," the postman repeated laughingly; "it shows what Scout Harris
can do with food."

"Food will win the war," Pee-wee shouted. "You thought you could make
me throwaway my banana but you couldn't. I knew a man that died from not
eating a banana, I did."

"Explain all that," the postman said.

"He threw a banana away on his porch instead of eating it and later he
stepped on it and slid down the steps and broke his leg and they took
him to the hospital and compilations set in and he got pneumonia and
died from not eating that banana. So there."

"That's a very fine argument." the postman said as he went away.

"I know better ones than that." Pee-wee shouted after him.

CHAPTER II

A TRAGIC PREDICAMENT

So there he sat upon his precarious perch trying to reassume the posture
which insured a good balance, clinging to the trunk with one hand and to
the banana with the other.

And now that the encounter which had almost resu