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Pee-Wee Harris on the Trail

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<h2> CHAPTER XXXIX </h2> <h3> BETRAYED! </h3> The next morning they folded their tents like the Arabs and moved to a spot which Pee-wee recommended, on the opposite side of the island. Why he liked it I do not know, for it was a quiet spot. Perhaps he liked it because it was retiring and modest, and kept in the background, as one might say. It seemed to breathe peacefulness, which was Pee-wee's middle name. It afforded a fine view of East Ketchem, the thriving community on the east shore of Kidder Lake; and the crystal spring, and stalking facilities, and better shelter of the stately, solemn pines, seemed in accordance with scout requirements. "Well, we're here because we're here," said Scoutmaster Ned, sitting down on two loaded grocery boxes after his last trip. "If the spring water doesn't come to us, we come to the spring water. Not half bad at that," he added, looking about. Indeed they had not been familiar with the eastern shore of the island and now they contemplated the discovery of Christopher Columbus Pee-wee, not without surprise and satisfaction. "When I go to a place I always leave it--" "Lucky for the place," interrupted Nick in his dry, drawling way. "I always go on expeditions," Pee-wee explained. "I even discovered islands and things. I discovered a mountain once, up at Temple Camp, only somebody discovered it before I did. I discovered this place day before yesterday when I was tracking a mud-turtle. Once I found a peninsula only it wasn't there the next day." "Who took it?" "The tide came up and it was under water. Do you want me to show you how to make drain ditches around tents?" They put up the tents and dug drain ditches around them and cleared a place for the camp-fire and brought wood for it. They chopped supports for their messboard and drove them into the pine-carpeted earth and laid the long boards upon them. To do Pee-wee justice, the place was an ideal camping spot. And what was one day's work of moving, against almost an entire month of camping in that sequestered glen, among fragrant pines? "You've got the right idea, Scout Harris," said Scoutmaster Ned. "It was a--a inspiration," said Pee-wee. "Do you have those often?" Nick asked. "Oh boy! I have them all the time." "But how about a landing place?" a scout asked. "Who wants to go to East Ketchem, anyway?" said Norris. "We should bother our heads about a landing place." "Leave it to me. I'll fix it," Pee-wee said. In the late afternoon they sprawled about and found the velvet coverlet of pine needles restful to their weary bodies. "Well, it's all over but the shouting," said Scoutmaster Ned. "All we need is sup--" "I'll do it!" shouted Pee-wee. "What, the shouting?" asked Nick. "Here comes a boat," said another scout. "Maybe somebody's going to discover the island," said Pee-wee. "There are two men in it," said another; "they're rowing straight for us." "Maybe this is their camping spot," said Fido Norton; "I knew this place was too good to be missed all this time." "If it's their place--" "Leave them to me, I'll fix it," Pee-wee announced vociferously. "That relieves us," said Scoutmaster Ned, lying back on the ground, after sitting up to inspect the approaching boat; "we are safe in the hands of Scout Harris. Let them come. We should worry our young lives." The boat made straight for the new camp, and it appeared to contain two men. The one who was rowing wore a large straw hat and his suspenders were visible. "They're scoutmasters!" Pee-wee shouted. This seemed as good a guess as any. The two men landed, drew the boat up very methodically and approached the camp. "Good afternoon," said Scoutmaster Ned, dragging himself to his feet and seating himself upon a grocery box. "Beautiful fall weather we're having. Just a little crisp out on the water, eh? Won't you sit down--if you can find something to sit on?" Whether the weather was crisp or not, the man who spoke first was very crisp indeed. "You in charge of these lads?" he asked. "Well, we're all sort of in charge of each other," said Scoutmaster Ned. "I guess I'm the goat." "He's all right," Pee-wee said; "you take it from me." "Well," said the man in a drawling but ominously conclusive tone, "my name is Rodney, Birchel Rodney; and this is Mr. Wise, Mr. Barnabas Wise. We came from East Ketchem." "I don't blame you," said Scoutmaster Ned. "I'm happy to meet you, gentlemen. This is a sort of table d'hote scout outfit that you see here; two troops and a couple of sundries. Will you stay and have supper with us?" "We ain't fer interferin' in no boys' pleasures," said Mr. Barnabas Wise, "but it's our dooty to tell you that we're the school committee of the village of East Ketchem, and s'long as these youngsters hez moved inside the taown limits of East Ketchem they'll hev to report for school at nine o'clock to-morrow morning. The taown line between East Ketchem and West Ketchem runs right through the middle of this island." A gaping silence followed this horrible pronouncement. "We--eh--we are just camping here, pending--" began Scoutmaster Ned. "It ain't no question uv pendin'," said Mr. Birchel Rodney. "The ordinance of the village of East Ketchem says that every minor--" "We're not miners, we're scouts!" Pee-wee shouted. "The ordinance of the village of East Ketchem," Mr. Rodney proceeded, ignoring the boisterous interruption, "says that every minor, which is spelled with a o, between the ages of eight years and fifteen years, resident or visiting or otherwise domiciled--" "You can't say I'm domiciled--" Pee-wee began. "Or otherwise domiciled," the terrible man continued, "must attend school in said village except upon cause of illness--" <ANTIMG src="images/image_5.jpg" alt=""We're not miners, we're scouts!"" title= ""We're not miners, we're scouts!"" /> "We're not miners, we're scouts!" "I'm sick a lot," Pee-wee yelled. "I expect to have a cold very shortly," said Nick in his funny way. "Determined and certified by a physician in good standing. Them's the very words of the village law and we come to tell you that all these youngsters will hev ter report for school at nine A.M. to-morrer morning, in said village of East Ketchem." "Foiled!" said Nick, falling back on the ground. "Horrors and confusion!" said Fido Norton. "That we should live to hear this!" moaned Charlie Norris. "Oh, what have we stepped into?" another groaned, holding his forehead in a way of despair. "You mean what have we been drawn into!" said another. "Oh, that it should come to this!" "What have we done? What have we done?" sighed still another. As for Scoutmaster Ned, he gave one terrific groan (or perhaps it was a roar of abandoned mirth) and fell backward off the grocery box. Only the fixer remained silent. His eyes stared, his mouth gaped. But not a word said he. It was Napoleon at Waterloo. Scout Harris had no words. Or else he had so many that they got jumbled up in his throat and would not come out. And as he stood there, bearing up under that mortal blow, the conquering legion, consisting of the two members of the East Ketchem school board, withdrew with an air of great conclusiveness and dignified solemnity to the shore. Then, and only then, did Scoutmaster Ned sit up and rub his eyes, holding his splitting sides, the while he gazed after that official delegation constituting the entire school board. He gave one look at the fixer (and the fixer's face was worth looking at) and at the gaping countenances all about him. Then he fell back again and shook as if he had a fit and rolled over and buried his face in his folded arm and roared and roared and roared. "Retreat! Retreat across the line! A disorderly retreat! That is our only hope! Who will lead a disorderly retreat?" The desperate cry was not unanswered. "I will!" said Fido Norton. "Get the stuff together! Every scout for himself! Our freedom hangs on a disorderly retreat! Vaccination--I mean evacuation--is our only hope! Our freedom is more dear than our lives! Give me vacation or give me death! We've been foiled by a school principal disguised as a boy scout! Remember his pal, the manual training teacher? Spies! Traitors! We fell into their clutches. Follow me, we will foil the schools yet! Every scout grab his own stuff, or anybody else's, and retreat as disorderly as possible. Our liberty is at stake! I love the west shore so muchly now that I wouldn't even knock the West Shore Railroad." <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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