"Down there," said Porky, waving a hand widely over the valley.
"That's where I thought. But we can't get into any scrape on account of the General. You know he wasn't thinking about us at all when he spoke, and, besides, there would be an awful fuss if we got into any trouble. It would be good-by to our little trip. We would be sent back quicker than they sent Bill and Peggy."
"Who wants to get into any scrape?" said Porky. "All I want to do is to see—to see—well, to see just what I can do."
"Well, come on," said Beany mournfully. "I bet we are in for some fun, because when we look for things we generally find 'em."
"What hurts me," said Porky, "is not carrying weapons of any sort. It's a good safe rule for the Boy Scouts, but I'd be glad of some little thing like a sling shot or a putty blower."
"I don't need anything," said Beany, "I've got the neatest thing you ever did see." Quite suddenly he drew something from his hip pocket and shoved it under his brother's nose. Porky side-stepped.
"Ha!" said Beany. "It works!" He showed Porky his weapon. It was a monkey wrench from the auto tool chest. In his hand it looked like a revolver.
"Pretty neat," said Porky. "Is there another one in the box?"
"Yes, I saw another," said Beany. "I don't see any harm in this. Any one might carry a monkey wrench," and replaced it carefully in his pocket.
"Sure thing," said Porky, making for the car, followed by his brother. "Didn't the Reverend Hannibal Butts get up to preach one Sunday, and dig for a clean handky to wipe his face with and come up with a bunch of waste and use it before he saw what he was doing?"