“I should worry about a command of language,” I told him. “Haven’t I got command of the Silver Fox Patrol? Anybody who can command the Silver Fox Patrol ought to be able to command a few languages and things. I could command a whole regiment even,” I kept up, for I saw that Pee-wee was getting worked up, as usual, and all the fellows were laughing, even Mr. Ellsworth.
“If you could command a division,” Westy Martin said, in that sober way of his, “you ought to be able to command English all right.”
“I can command any kind of a division,” I shouted, all the while winking at Westy. “I can command a long division or a short division or a multiplication or a subtraction or a plain addition.”
“What are you talking about?” Pee-wee yelled. “You’re crazy!”
“I can command anything except Pee-wee Harris’s temper,” I said.
Well, you ought to have seen Pee-wee. Even Mr. Ellsworth had to laugh.
“How can a fellow your age write books?” he fairly screamed. “You have to have sunsets and twilights and gurgling brooks and——”
“You leave the gurgling brooks to me,” I said; “I’ll make them gurgle all right. There’s going to be plenty of action in these books. And Pee-wee Harris is going to be the village cut-up.”
“Are you going to have girls?” he shouted.
“Sure I’m going to have girls—gold haired girls—all kinds—take your pick.”