“Some scouts!” said Grove Bronson of the Ravens.
“I’d just love to stop at North Deadhead for our young hero,” said Hunt Ward of the Elks, “but you know how the directors of the railroad would feel.”
“Sure, a scout’s honor is to be trusted,” said Roy.
“How about his feet?” Artie shot back. “Can you walk from the station to the train? You make me tired, you fellows.”
“If you’re so tired what do you want to hike for?” Roy asked. “You’re so wide awake and full of pep, what do you want to go to Fried ham or Dead-ham for? I should worry about Deadville or whatever you call it. Right away when we get rid of Pee-wee you want to go and get him. They’ve just had whooping cough at Temple Camp; isn’t that bad enough? The raving Ravens are raving again, no wonder the railroads are losing money with the Raven Patrol walking all over the country.”
“Who’ll volunteer?” Artie said.
“A large chunk of silence,” said Roy.
“I won’t,” called one.
“Neither will I,” shouted another.
“Not for mine,” piped up a third.