“Sure,” Pee-wee interrupted; “he has to show resource, that’s another good thing about it. And it’ll be a lot of fun because it’ll be kind of—you know—it’ll be kind of like a—a grab-bag sort of, because I don’t know what I’m going to get.”
“You might get a lemon,” mused Beech.
“Scouts aren’t lemons,” Pee-wee shouted. “Anyway, the one that reaches me has to take a good hike before he gets there, hasn’t he? So that’ll prove he’s all right, won’t it? Gee whiz, I feel sorry for the others, but I can’t help it, can I? They’ll have adventures hiking, won’t they?”
“Oh sure, leave it to them.”
“That’s what I say,” Pee-wee agreed.
“I was just thinking,” Beech mused, “I’ve got to make test four for the first-class badge—”
“I know that one,” Pee-wee interrupted, excitedly, “you’ve got to make a round-trip to a point seven miles away, that’s fourteen miles, and you’ve got to have a witness and you’ve got to write a satisfactory account of it when you get back; I passed that one. My scoutmaster said the hike I took was seven miles long and the account I wrote of it was seven miles long. Anyway, I believe in giving good measure, don’t you?”
“Sure thing. I was just wondering when you showed up whether going round and round and round with a lawn-mower would be a round-trip—”
“It’s a teckinality,” said Pee-wee.
“I bet I’ve pushed that little old lawn-mower seven miles this morning,” said Beech, “and you see that way I don’t have to make a trip seven miles and back, because I’m always back; it’s a good idea. Do you think I could get away with that?”