“Nnnnooo!” with the authority of one who knew the scout law. “Because how about a witness?”
“I thought of that,” said Beech; “there’s a hop-toad on the lawn, I’ve passed him a dozen times; he must have seen everything.”
“It’s got to be a brother scout,” Pee-wee said; “hop-toads don’t count. Anyway, you really don’t have to have a witness.”
“Sure of that?”
“Sure, I’m sure,” said Pee-wee.
“Well then,” said Beech, “why couldn’t I take care of the first relay, seven miles and back? I’ll trot up to Haverstraw and give them good measure.”
“Gee whiz,” said Pee-wee, “I like you. I wish you were going to be at Temple Camp.”
“I’m on the wrong end of the line,” said Beech. “I bet that’s a pretty nifty place up there. Bathing and everything?”
“Bathing?” shouted Pee-wee. “You said it! Bathing and boating and fishing and stalking and tracking and everything. And the cabin where I’m going to live—Memorial Cabin—it’s about a half a mile from the regular camp, and you can live there all separated from the camp and do your own cooking and—and—and eating—”
“That must be fine to do your own eating,” said Beech.