nation had played a trick, he fumbled in
his duffel bag, found his flashlight and sent its vivid gleam about the
car. A young fellow in a convict's suit stood menacingly before the door
with one hand upon it, blinking and watching the boy with a lowering
aspect. His head was close-shaven and shone in the light's glare so that
he looked hardly human. He had apparently sprung to the door, perhaps
out of a sound sleep, and he was evidently greatly alarmed. Pee-wee was
also greatly alarmed, but he was no coward and he stood his ground
though his heart was pounding in his breast.

"You ain't no bo," said the man.

"I--I'm a scout," stammered Pee-wee, "and I was going to camp here for
the night. I didn't know there was anyone here."

The man continued to glare at him and Pee-wee thought he had never in
his life seen such a villainous face.

"I'll--I'll go away," he said, "I was only going to sleep here."

The convict, still guarding the door, leered brutally at him, his head
hanging low, his lips apart, more like a beast than a man.

"No, yer won't go 'way, nuther," he finally said; "yer ain't goin' ter
double-cross _me_, pal. Wot d'yer say yer wuz?"

"A scout," said Pee-wee. "I don't need to stay here, you were here
first. I can camp outdoors."

"No, yer don't," said the man. "You stay whar yer are. Yer ain't goin'
ter double-cross _me_."

"I don't know what you mean by that," said Pee-wee.

The convict did not offer him any explanation, only stood guarding the
door with a threatening aspect, which very much disconcerted Pee-wee. He
was a scout and he was brave, and not panicky in peril or emergency, but
the striped clothing and cropped head and stupid leer of the man before
him made him seem something less than human. His terror was more that of
an animal than of a man and his apparent inability to express himself
save by the repetition of that one sentence frightened the boy.
Apparently the creature was all instinct and no brains.

"Yer gotta stay here," he repeated. "Yer ain't goin' ter double-cross
_me_, pal."

Then it began to dawn on Pee-wee what he meant.

"I guess I know about you," he said, "because I heard about
your--getting away. But, anyway, if you let me go away I won't tell
anyone I saw you. I don't want to camp here now. I'll promise not to go
and tell people, if that's what you're afraid of."

"Wot's in that bag?" asked the man.

"My camping things."

"Got any grub?"

"I've got two bisc