“That’s the kind of a fellow I like,” Pee-wee enthused.
“Oh, yes,” said Alton Beech, “he runs up moving stairways, that fellow does. That’s a pretty good letter you wrote, Bridgeboro.”
“It’s kind of official like,” Pee-wee said.
“I just happened to think,” said Beech, “that there ought to be some pretty good scouts up at Bear Mountain; that’s only about ten miles above Haverstraw, you know. Then there’s a boys’ camp up at New Paltz, too. There must be a lot of scouts in Kingston. Oh, it’ll be like a row of dominoes.”
“You said it,” vociferated Pee-wee. It was so seldom that any one ever gave unqualified approval of his schemes that he felt highly elated at Beech’s spirit of ready cooperation. “It was an—an inspiration,” he said.
“Some idea,” said Beech.
“How long do you think it’ll take?” Pee-wee asked.
“Oh, I don’t know; short runs are best, that’s what I think.”
“That’s what I think, too,” said Pee-wee.
“You see each scout has got to find another before he comes back—”