“How about some sassafras and birch bark, Kid?” he said. “Scouts can’t starve.”
“I can see the two ears of corn on the floor,” said Pee-wee, still standing on tiptoe. “I was going to roast them.”
“How about some nice herbs? Browned in the pan?” Townsend asked.
“I wasn’t talking about scouts except when they’re lost,” said Pee-wee. “That shows how much sense you have. Are we in the North Woods? Answer me that—are we in the North Woods? Scouts have to have resources, don’t they?”
“Yes, but ours are all locked in there,” said Townsend.
“We have to find out where the man lives,” said Pee-wee; “he lives in the village; I’m going to find him.”
“All right, I’ll leave everything to you, Kid, because you have charge of the eats. If you don’t find him, anything you want to cook will be all right—some nice boiled grass or fried roots—anything.”
Pee-wee gave one more wistful look into the garage, then departed in search of its owner. He returned with the cheerful tidings that the man lived seven miles away in Tiddyville and that he always closed up at six o’clock. He had further ascertained that the man had no telephone.
“I suppose he thought we live somewhere around here and that we’ll call to-morrow,” said Townsend. “Guess he thought we wouldn’t be back to-night anyway. Well, we’ve got a dollar and a quarter on hand, and a dollar twenty goes to our absent friend. That leaves a nickel—”
“There aren’t any stores anyway,” said Pee-wee, disgruntled.