Back Aa

Pee Wee Harris

<h2> CHAPTER XVI </h2> A REVELATION "What are you laughing at?" Pee-wee demanded to know, as soon as he had regained his poise and dignity. "You're as bad as they are." "I couldn't help laughing," Pepsy said remorsefully, "'specially when you fell down. You said you were going to handle them." "That could happen to the smartest man," Pee-wee said in scornful reproval; "that could happen to—to—to Julius Caesar." "He's dead, you ask Miss Bellison," said Pepsy timidly. "That shows how much you know," said Pee-wee scornfully as he brushed off his clothing. "Can't something be a kind of a thing that could happen to somebody who's dead if he was very smart, only if he wasn't dead. We got a dollar and ten cents from them, didn't we?" "Yes, but—did you—did you—handle them?" Pepsy asked fearfully. "There are different ways of handling people," Pee-wee said; "you can't handle people that are crazy, can you? I can handle scoutmasters even." Pepsy was willing to believe anything of her hero and she said, "They were a lot of freshies and I hate them anyway." Pee-wee did not trouble himself about what the man had said. His chief interest was the dollar and ten cents of working capital which they now had and how to invest it. In his enthusiasm he had been rather premature in his advertisement of auto accessories, and he now purposed to make good at least one of these announcements by commissioning Simeon Drowser to buy some ten-cent rolls of tire tape for him at Baxter City, whither Simeon went daily. He started along the road to the post office where he hoped to catch Simeon before that worthy left for Baxter City. But he did not reach the post office. The first interruption to his progress was one of his own two-card signs staring him in the face from a roadside tree: CHEWING GUM FOR PUNCTURES He paused scowling before this novel announcement. His gaze then wandered to a fence on which he read the astounding words: PANCAKES FOR HEADLIGHTS Alas, the ground glass which should have appeared in place of pancakes did duty beneath the single word EAT on another tree nearby. Eat GROUND GLASS the hungry motorist was blithely advised. Nor was this the worst. As Pee-wee penetrated deeper into the woods the more terrible was the masquerade of his own enticing signs. His stenciled cards, deserting their lawful mates, had struck up ghastly unions with other cards proclaiming frightful items of refreshment to the appalled wayfarer who was reminded of NON-SKID BANANAS and advised that OUR PEANUT TAFFY STICKS LIKE GLUE. The faithless TIRE TAPE which should have surmounted the STICK LIKE GLUE card was nestling under the fatal EAT, while FRANKFURTERS COLD AND COOLING and ICE CREAM SIZZLING HOT met Pee-wee's astonished gaze. He stood looking at this awful sequel of his handiwork. Most of the cards were besmeared with mud and one or two in such a freakish way as to give a curious turn to their meaning. On one card a mischievous little rivulet of mud or wetted ink had ingeniously changed a T into a crude R and the travelers read RUBES SOLD HERE. Pee-wee contemplated this exhibition with dismay. Wherever he looked, on fence or tree, some ridiculous sign stared him in the face. He did not continue on to the post office but retraced his steps to the refreshment parlor which was the subject of these printed slanders. He and Pepsy were discussing this miscarriage of their exploitation design when a shuffling sound in the distance proclaimed the shambling approach of the advertising department. And if Pee-wee had not made good his flaunting boast to handle the six merry maidens, he at least made amends and regained somewhat of his heroic tradition in his handling of Licorice Stick. "What did I tell you to do?" he shouted, his face red with terrible wrath. "What did I tell you to do? Do you know the way you put those cards up? You made fools of us, that's what you did!" "I done gone make no fools of you, no how:" Licorice Stick exclaimed. "I see a sperrit 'n I shakes like dat, I do. As shu I'm stan' here I see a sperrit in dem woods." From a vivid and terrifying narrative the partners made out that while Licorice Stick was on his way to embellish the wayside in strict accordance with instructions, he had encountered a spirit from the other world in the form of the carnival clown whom we have seen pass our wayside rest. The ghostly raiment of this lowly humorist and the motley decoration of his face had so frightened Licorice Stick that he had dropped his cards and retreated frantically into the woods. When the awful apparition had passed he hid stealthily shuffled back to the spot and with many furtive glances about him had gathered up the cards with trembling hands, and proceeded to post them in pairs without regard to their proper order. After this triumphant exploitation feat (which ought to commend him to every lying advertiser in the world) Licorice Stick had shuffled into a new path of glory, going to the carnival, where (not finding the sperrit in evidence) he had accepted a position to stand behind a piece of canvas with his head in an opening and allow people to throw baseballs at him. On hearing this Pee-wee desisted from any further criticism. For, as he told Pepsy, "a scout has to be kind and forgiving, and besides when I go to the carnival I can plug him in the face with a baseball two or three times and then we'll be square." <h2> CHAPTER XVII </h2> HARD TIMES If many people went to the carnival they must have approached it from the other direction. It was a small carnival and probably did not attract much interest outside of Berryville. A few stragglers passed Mr. Quig's farm traveling in buckboards and farm wagons, but they did not come from distant parts and evidently were not hungry. Some were so unscrupulous as to bring their lunches with them. One reckless farmer, indeed, bought a doughnut and exchanged it for another with a smaller hole. Altogether the neighboring carnival did not bring much business to Pee-wee and Pepsy. Aunt Jamsiah took their enterprise good-naturedly; Uncle Ebenezer said it was a good thing to keep the children out of mischief. Miss Bellison, the young school teacher, bought ten cents' worth of taffy each day as a matter of duty, and Beriah Bungel, the town constable, being a natural born grafter, helped himself to everything he wanted free of charge. So the pleasant summer days passed and brought them little business. Occasionally some lonely auto would crawl along the foliage-arched road, its driver looking for a place to turn around so that he might get back out of his mistaken way. Most of these were too disgruntled at their mistakes and the quality of the road to heed the voice of the tempter who shouted at them, "Lemonade, ice cold! Get your lemonade here!" They usually answered by asking how they could get to West Baxter. And Pee-wee would answer, "You have to go four miles back, get your hot doughnuts here." Then they would start back but they never, never got their hot doughnuts there. If Pee-wee's stout heart was losing hope he did not show it, but Pepsy was frankly in despair. In her free hours she sat in their little shelter, her thin, freckly hands busy with the worsted masterpiece that she was working. Pee-wee, at least, had his appetite to console him, but she had no relish for the stale lemonade and melting, oozy taffy which stood pathetically on the counter each night. One day a lumbering, enclosed auto went by, an undertaker's car it was, and Pepsy was seized with sudden fright lest it be the orphan asylum wagon come to get her. The two dominating thoughts of her simple mind were the fear that she would have to go back to "that place" and the hope that Pee-wee might get the money to buy those precious tents. She had learned something of scouting, that scouts camp and live in the open, and she had learned something of the good scout laws. She was witnessing now an exhibition of scout faith and resolution, of faith that was hopeless and resolution that was futile. She was soon to be made aware of another scout quality which fairly staggered her and left her wondering. <h2> CHAPTER XVIII </h2> THE VOICE OF THE TAIL-LIGHT One night after dark, Pepsy and Pee-wee were sitting in their little roadside pavilion because they preferred it to the lamp-lighted kitchen smelling of kerosene where Uncle Ebenezer read the American Farm Journal, his arms spread on the red covered table. A cheery little cricket chirped somewhere in this scene of impending failure; nearby a katydid was grinding out her old familiar song as if it were the latest popular air. In the barn across the yard the discordant sound of the horses kicking the echoing boards sounded clear in the still night and seemed a part of the homely music of the countryside. Suddenly a speeding auto, containing perhaps its load of merry, heedless joy riders, went rattling over the old bridge along the highway and the loose planks called out across the interval of woodland to the little red-headed girl in this remote shack along the obscure by-road. "You have to go back, You have to go back, You have to go back." Little did those speeding riders know of the voice they had called up to terrify this unknown child. The rattling, warning voice ceased as suddenly as it had begun as the unseen car rolled noiselessly along the smooth highway. "Don't you be scared of it," Pee-wee said. "You're as bad as Licorice Stick. Those old boards don't know what they're talking about. I wouldn't be scared of what anything said unless it was alive, that's sure." "They voted not to build a new bridge for two years because they've got to build a new schoolhouse," said Pepsy. "That's because this county hasn't got much money. I'll be glad when they build it; the floor's going to be made out of stone; like—" "You mean the bridge?" "Yes, and I wish they'd hurry up. Every night I hear that and I know boards tell the truth, because if a door squeaks that means you're going to get married." "All you need is an oil can to keep from getting married then," said Pee-wee, "because if you oil a door it won't squeak. So there; lets hear you answer that argument." There was no answer to that argument; keeping single was just a matter of lubrication; but just the same that appalling sentence which had become fixed in Pepsy's mind, haunted her, especially when she lay on her feather mattress in the yellow painted bed up in her little room. She was just about to go in when they were aroused by a sound in the distance. Pee-wee thought it was an auto and he made ready to deliver his usual verbal assault to the travelers. Louder and louder grew the sound and suddenly a motorcycle with no headlight went whizzing past in the darkness. It was followed by another, also without any headlight, but this second rider stopped a little distance beyond the shack and got off his machine. Something, he knew not what, dissuaded Pee-wee from making his customary announcements and he stood in the darkness watching this second speeder who seemed to be delayed by some trouble with his machine. The traveler was certainly too hurried and preoccupied to think of doughnuts. Meanwhile, the first cyclist had covered perhaps fifty yards and was still going. The little red taillight of his machine shone brightly. Pee-wee was just wondering why these travelers used no headlights and whether the first cyclist would return to assist his friend, when he beheld something which caught and held his gaze in rapt concentration. The little red taillight went out and on four times in quick succession. There followed an appreciable pause, then two quick flashes. Pee-wee watched the tiny light, spellbound. It appeared for a couple of seconds, then flashed twice with lightning rapidity. "Hide," Pee-wee repeated to himself and motioned with his hand for Pepsy not to move. Now, in such rapid succession that Pee-wee could hardly follow them, the flashes appeared, tinier as the cyclist sped further away. "Hide Kelly's barn," Pee-wee breathed. Presently the second cyclist was on his machine again, speeding through the darkness. Either the first cyclist knew that his friend's trouble was not serious, or time was so precious that he could not pause in any case. Indeed, their flight must have been urgent to speed on such a road without headlights. The whole thing had a rather sinister look. Pee-wee wondered who Kelly was and where his barn was located. <h2> CHAPTER XIX </h2> THE OTHER VOICE "What do you mean, hide in Kelly's barn?" Pepsy whispered, greatly agitated. "Can you keep still about it?" Pee-wee said. "Girls can't keep secrets. Can you keep still till I tell you it's all right to speak?" "I can keep a secret and not even tell it to you," she shot back at him in spirited defiance. "I know a secret that will—that will—help us sure to make lots and lots of money. And I wouldn't even tell you or Aunt Jamsiah, because she tried to make me. So there, Mr. Smarty. And I don't care whether you tell me or not if I can't keep a secret, but I've got a secret all by myself and it's that much bigger than yours," she said, spreading out her thin, little arms to include a vast area. "And besides that, I hate you," she added, bursting into tears and starting for the house. "And you can have that girl who was kept in after school for a partner," he heard her sobbing as she crossed the yard. Pepsy did not pause to speak with Uncle Eb and Aunt Jamsiah who were sitting in the kitchen, but the latter, seeing her in tears, said kindly, "No folks passed by to the carnival to-night, Pepsy?" "Looks like rain," Uncle Eb said consolingly; "to-morrer'll be the big night when they have the wrestlin' match. I reckon Jeb Collard n' all his summer folks will go up on th' hay-rig from West Baxter. You wait till to-morrer night, Pep. Mamsy'll make you up a pan of fresh doughnuts fer to-morrer night, won't you, Mamsy? Don't you take on now, Pepsy girl; you jes' go ter bed n' ferget yer troubles." "I don't care about people from West Baxter," Pepsy said, stamping her foot and shaking her, head violently, "and I don't care about the old carnival or anything—so now. They're all too stingy—to—to—buy things—they're too stingy. I—I—I—don't care," she went on fairly in hysterics, "he says I can't—I can't—keep—keep—a secret—but I've got one and I won't tell it to anybody and I thought it up all myself and it will surely make lots and lots and lots of people come and buy—and—and he'll see if girls can do things." She was crying violently and shaking like a leaf. "What is the secret, Pepsy?" Aunt Jamsiah asked gently; "maybe I can help you." "I won't tell—I won't tell anybody," Pepsy sobbed. They were accustomed to these outbursts of her tense little nature and said no more. Pepsy went up to her little room under the eaves, catching each breath and trembling. No wonder they had not understood her at that big brick orphan home. No wonder she had hated it. Little as she was, she was too big for it. She was in a mood to torment herself that night and she lay awake to listen for that dread voice from across the woods. She lay on her left side so they would have good luck next day. She was greatly overwrought and when at last she did hear the sound, loud and heartless with its sudden beginning and sudden end, it startled and terrorized her as if it were indeed that gloomy, windowless equipage of the State Orphan Home, coming to take her away. She pushed her little fingers into her ears so that she could not hear it. . . . <h2> CHAPTER XX </h2> AN OFFICIAL REBUKE As for Pee-wee, his trouble was quite of another character. The dubious outlook for their great enterprise did not submerge his buoyant spirit. He had been the genius of many colossal enterprises, most of them falling short of his glowing predictions, and his ingenious mind passed from one thing to another with no lingering regrets. He usually invested so much enthusiasm in organization that he had none left for maintenance. He did not stick at anything long enough to be disappointed in it; there were too many other worlds to be conquered. His heart was no longer in the refreshment parlor and he was already finding solace in becoming his own solitary customer, by eating the taffy which he could not sell. There had been so few things in Pepsy's poor little life that she had put her whole intense little heart and soul in this and was resolved that this hero from the great world of Bridgeboro should buy the tents which in plain fact he had already forgotten about. So it happened that while Pepsy was lying on her left side (one of Licorice Stick's prescriptions) to insure good luck for the morrow, Pee-wee was dangling his legs from the counter eating a doughnut. What concerned him now was this mystery of the speeding cyclists. That was the big thing in his young life. He believed them to be fugitives. Their reckless speed, and the fact that they used no headlights, gave color to this delightful supposition. Little had they thought that this diminutive scout, unseen in the darkness, had read that message in the Morse Code with perfect ease. Hide Kelly's Barn. What did that mean? If Pee-wee had liked Beriah Bungel, the Everdoze constable, he would have gone to him with this information. But he disliked Beriah Bungel with true scout thoroughness; he knew him to be officious, and swelling with self-importance and he was not going to put business in such a creature's way. But the next morning something happened which showed Scout Harris in a new light. Going to the post office early in the morning, he saw a sign posted on the bulletin board and he read it with lively interest. $250.00 REWARD for information leading to the arrest and conviction of the thieves who stole two motorcycles from the yard of Chandler's Motorcycle Repair Shop in Baxter City. The machines are Indian models bearing license plates 2570 and 92632. Both machines are comparatively new. Communicate with Austin Sawyer, County prosecutor, County of Borden, Baxter City. This notice had evidently been brought down by the mail driver early in the morning and several distinguished citizens of Everdoze were gathered about commenting on it. It seemed certain that none of the Everdoze dozers had heard the motorcycles and surely no one in the village would have been any the wiser for seeing those quick, tiny flashes, which told so much to the scout. "I heerd somethin' but 'twan't no motorcycles," said Nathaniel Knapp; "'twas a auto or I'm crazy." Then spoke Beriah Bungel, sticking his thumbs into his suspenders so that his rusty-colored coat flapped open showing his imposing badge, "They wouldn' never come this way, they wouldn', when they got th' highway ter go on. They hit inter th' highway from Barter, that's what they done. Them fellers hez con-federates waitin' across th' state line with Noo York license plates. They made th' line last night; them fellers gits as fur as they kin on the first go off. Waal, ha ow's refreshments?" he added, turning upon Pee-wee. "You ought to know," Pee-wee piped up; "you took enough of them." Which caused a laugh among the store loungers. "When I wuz a youngster if I sassed my elders I got the hickory stick," Beriah said. "Yes, and when you grew up you got the peppermint sticks and doughnuts and things," Pee-wee shot back. At this Darius Dragg and Nathaniel Knapp laughed uproariously. Constable Bungel saw but one way out of his rather embarrassing situation and that was the old approved device of a box on the ears. The official slap sounded loud in the little post office and left Pee-wee's cheek and ear tingling. "I'll learn yer how to answer back yer superiors," said Constable Bungel. "We don't relish sass from city youngsters daown here, you mind that. Naow yer git along a outer here n' tell yer uncle ter learn yer some manners n' respect fer th' law." Pee-wee faced him, his cheek flushed, his eyes blazing. "You're a—you're a—coward—and a thief—that's what you are," he shouted. "You—you—haven't got brains enough to find two—two—motorcycles—you haven't—all you can do is stand around and eat things that other people are trying to sell! You're a coward and a—a fo—ol—and you owe us as much as—a—a dollar. You'd better button your coat up or you'll—you'll be stealing your own watch—you—you coward!" With this rebuke, which left Beriah gaping, Pee-wee started home, holding a hand to his cheek. He was trying hard not to cry, not from pain, but from the indignity he had suffered. He had never known such a thing in all his life before. He felt shamed, humiliated. His whole sturdy little form trembled at the thought of such degradation at the hands of a stranger. . . . <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2

Update Required To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.