Presently Pee-wee himself was on the little platform receiving the star scout badge. Mr. Ellsworth, the Bridgeboro troop’s scoutmaster, was not at camp that season, so Mr. Waring, one of the resident trustees, had the honor of raising Pee-wee to the dizzy altitude of the stars.
“Scout Harris,” said he, “stands before us, a scout without a troop or a patrol, because no patrol or troop is large enough to hold him. (Great applause.) He resigned from a full patrol to make room for a new scout—a typical scout good turn. Those of you who were here two years ago will remember Scout Harris—”
“Tell them I’m the one that did the double-dip off the springboard,” Pee-wee whispered to Mr. Waring. “Tell them I’m the one that stalked a wasp.”
“Scout Harris,” said Mr. Waring, laughing, “is the only scout that dipped a wasp—”
“Not dipped him,” Pee-wee shouted.
“He is the only scout that ever stalked a wasp. Everybody knows Scout Harris. In the interval since last summer he has passed the several remaining tests requisite to his becoming a star scout and I now on behalf of the Boy Scouts of America, present him with the star scout badge.” (Great applause.)
“Tell them I chose life saving instead of pioneering, but anyway I’m going to win the pioneering badge to-morrow,” Pee-wee said as the star award was being fastened to his elaborately decorated regalia. “Tell them I’m going to start a new kind of a patented patrol; go on, tell them.”
It was not necessary for Mr. Waring to tell the audience anything for Pee-wee’s voice could be heard to the very outskirts of the crowd, and a chorus of joyous approval greeted him.
“Hurrah for Scout Harris!”
“Three cheers for the ex-Raven!”