“Ask me,” said Grove.
“What do you think?” Artie asked.
“Pee-wee’s an odd number,” said Grove; “he belongs everywhere. We couldn’t get rid of him if we tried to. He’s wished onto the troop, he—”
“I know, but he’s a star scout, don’t forget that.”
“I’m not forgetting it,” said Grove, “only I say he’s sort of different from other members, he’s troop mascot.”
“He’s so plaguy hard to talk seriously to,” Artie said. “I wonder how much he really cares about us—I mean in our patrol?”
“You must remember, he’s a world hero,” Grove said, “and he can’t bother with just one patrol. I say, let’s give Billy a chance. I know the kid is rattle-brained but he’s willing, you can see that. He’ll land on his feet all right, or rather he’ll be just as happy standing on his head.”
“I wouldn’t want the Elks or the Silver Foxes to get him,” said Artie. “Roy jollies the life out of him but he’d grab him like that if he got the chance.”
“They’re both full,” said Grove; “I say let’s turn him loose and see what happens.”
Artie could not quite bring himself to do this with an altogether easy conscience. But since there was no discussing it with Pee-wee and since he must do one thing or the other then and there, he led the way into the post office and wrote the following letter to Billy Simpson back in Bridgeboro.