"Won't you have one more?" the tempter urged.
Pee-wee hesitated. "I'll take a cocoanut one," he said, "because they're small. So long, I'll see you later."
Thus it was that when Pee-wee went back to the island, he did take something with him which was not named in the guessing of his friends. It was the heavy responsibility which he bore to make scouting good in the eyes of Miss Carlton. His promise, made at the altar of Bennett's candy counter and solemnized by a dozen assorted dainties, must be fulfilled.
He found his friends sprawling around their dying campfire on the island. Townsend was lying on his back as usual, his hands clasped behind his head, his eyes fixed on the quiet stars. Crowds thronged the main street of Bridgeboro on that Saturday night but the island lay peacefully against the shore of the wood skirting the river and the town might have been a hundred miles off for all the campers could tell.
"Well, we've had quite a week," said Townsend; "and now that we're started I hope we'll stick together and make a real, honest-to-goodness patrol. Joe is with us to the last ditch—out for the second rate badge——"
"You mean the second class badge," Pee-wee thundered.
"Brownie is going to be steward or whatever you——"
"Don't talk about stew," said Billy.
"Pardon me, my fault," said Townsend, "only I'd like to rise to remark while I'm lying here that I think we're going to make a pretty nifty patrol. Joe wouldn't go in swimming on account of his mother; couldn't force him to it, so there you are."
"And he's going to school Monday," said Pee-wee; "because I met his teacher in the—the—eh—the store."