had sent from the east
(and who likewise carried several pistols) became a train robber and
nearly killed the millionaire whom he met in the middle of the desert
(carrying pistols) and who killed him instead and was in turn mortally
wounded by the partner he had ruined and who had nothing left but
several pistols.

And then Scout Harris fell asleep, and slept through the first part of
the educational films. In a kind of jumbled dream he saw President
Harding (with pistols) receiving a delegation of ladies (all armed) and
then he felt a tapping on his shoulder.

"Walter," Mrs. Bartlett whispered pleasantly, "if you don't care about
these pictures why don't you just go out and curl up in the back of the
car and have a _real_ good nap. Then when we come out we'll all stop and
have some cream before we go home and we'll leave you at your house."

Pee-wee was too sleepy to answer; his mind Was awake to but two things,
ice cream and pistols. In a kind of stupor he looked to make sure that
Mrs. Bartlett was not armed and then, dragging himself from his seat he
stumbled up the aisle, through the lobby, across the sidewalk, and
tumbled into the rear seat of the big car that seemed waiting to receive
him. He was just awake enough to realize that the night was cold and he
pulled the heavy blanket over him and was dead to the world.

Many adventures awaited this redoubtable young scout but one terrible
ordeal he escaped. In this he was, as he had said, lucky. For the very
next picture on the screen after he had made his half-conscious exit,
showed a lot of children in Europe being fed out of the munificent hand
of Uncle Sam. And Pee-wee could never have stayed in his seat and
quietly watched that tormenting performance.

CHAPTER V

R-R-R-ROBBERS!

Scout Harris never knew exactly when he passed out of the realm of
dreams into the realm of wakefulness, for in both conditions pistols
played a leading part. He was aware of a boy scout holding Secretary
Hoover at bay with two pistols and Mr. Ellsworth, his scoutmaster,
rescuing the statesman with several more pistols. And then he was very
distinctly aware of someone saying,

"How many pistols have you got?"

"Twenty-seven," another voice answered.

"I've got forty-three and two blackjacks," said the first voice.

"You're wrong," said the other.

"I jotted them down," the first voice replied.

"We should worry," the other one laughed.

At this appalling revelati