“That’s very interesting,” said Emerson, unmoved by the dramatic character of the announcement.
“Interesting?” roared Pee-wee. “Do you call it interesting if—if—if a lot of gypsies steal a car and we have to be on the lookout for them? Do you call it interesting, just kind of, if we have to hurry out of here to circumspect thieves?”
“Do you mean circumvent?” Emerson asked.
“I mean foil!” Pee-wee shouted. “Come ahead, we have to catch them, hurry up, where did I leave my cap?”
“I don’t know,” said Emerson, arising dutifully but reluctantly. “You said scouts always know where they leave things.”
“In the woods I said,” roared Pee-wee. “If a scout hides something in the woods he can always find it. Caps are different,” he added, instituting a frantic search for his ever elusive cap.
“I should think the best place to keep it would be on your head,” Emerson commented, “then you’d always know where to find it. Mine’s downstairs on the hat rack.”
Pee-wee presently apprehended his cap on the top of the bookcase and then hurried downstairs intent on apprehending the fugitives from New York. Emerson followed with a calmness quite disproportionate to the dramatic character of their errand. He had just begun thoroughly to enjoy the broadcasting and was listening in with quiet interest when suddenly he found himself launched again upon the sea of adventure.
Having accustomed himself to the clamor and turmoil of the Jamboree Jazz Band and begun to enjoy the novelty of the distant, unseen entertainment, he would have preferred to let well enough alone. But he was beginning to learn that one who followed Pee-wee must be prepared for anything or must be willing to do anything whether he is prepared or not.
“What are we going to do?” Emerson asked as they hurried along the dark street.