XIV—PEE-WEE’S GOAT
That fellow, Harry Domicile, he’s crazy. He said, “If you like signals so much I don’t see why you send them. Why don’t you keep them?”
Will Dawson said, “It isn’t the signal we send, it’s a message; we send a message by a signal. See?”
Harry said, “But if it’s a good message why should you want to send it away? Why don’t you keep it? If it’s worth anything what’s the use of getting rid of it? A scout should not be wasteful.” Then he winked at Brent Gaylong.
Oh, boy, you should have seen Pee-wee. He shouted, “You’re crazy! Suppose I keep some-thing—suppose I keep——”
Rossie said, “Suppose you keep silence.”
“That shows how much you know about logic!” the kid yelled. “How can I keep silence——”
By that time we were all laughing, except Harry. He had the paper with the message written on it and he said, very sober like, “Well, if this message is any good at all I don’t see why we don’t keep it; it might come in useful.”
Pee-wee shouted, “A message is no good at all—even the most important message in the world is no good to the fellow that makes it——”
Brent said, “Then he’s just wasting his time making it. Before we send this message we’d better talk it over. If it’s any good we’ll keep it.”
Gee whiz, you should have seen our young hero; I thought he’d jump off the mountain. He yelled, “Do you know what logic is? You get that in the third grade. My uncle knows a man that’s a lawyer and he says—besides—anyway, do you mean to tell me——”
Harry said, “Go on.”
Brent said, “Proceed; we follow you.”
“Suppose I had a piece of pie,” the kid yelled. “If it was good I’d eat it, wouldn’t I?”
Brent said, “That isn’t logic.”
“Sure it’s logic!” Pee-wee shouted. “The better it is the more I’d get rid of, wouldn’t I?”
“Thou never spakest a truer word,” I told him.
“And it’s the same with messages,” he said.
I said, “Good night, you don’t want to eat it, do you?”
Harry said, “Well, if he doesn’t want to eat it, what’s the use of chewing it over? Let’s send it.”
I bet you think we’re all crazy, hey? I should worry.
So then we gathered a lot of twigs and started a fire about in the middle of that open space. While we were doing that, Charlie Seabury and Ralph Warner got some dead grass and brush and took it down to the brook and got it good and wet. Then they squeezed the water all out of it so it was kind of damp and muggy like. It has to be just like that if you want to send a smudge message. Maybe you don’t know exactly what a smudge signal is because maybe you think that a smudge is just a dirt streak on your face—I don’t mean on yours but on Pee-wee’s. That’s Pee-wee’s trade mark—a smudge on his face. Usually it’s the shape of a comet and it makes you think of a comet, because he’s got six freckles on his cheek that are like the big dipper. And his face is round like the moon, too, but, gee williger, I hate astronomy. But I’d like to go to Mars just the same.
Anyway this is the way you send a smudge signal. When you get the fire started good and strong you kind of shovel it into a tin can, but if you haven’t got any tin can, you don’t. Scouts are supposed to be able to do without things. We should worry about tin cans. Brent Gaylong has a tin can on wheels—that’s a Ford. My father says it’s better to own a Ford than a can’t afford. Anyway my sister says I ought to stick to my subject. Gee whiz, she must think I’m a piece of fly paper.