Now I didn’t know how much money Mr. Bennett gave Mr. Ellsworth. All I know is that when the fellows came back they had everything for Skinny, or most everything. Because they came up to Camp Solitaire (that’s the tent I have on our lawn) and we opened the whole business. Pee-wee was there and the first thing we knew he was shouting that there wasn’t any belt-axe.
“We used all the money we had,” Westy said, “and it isn’t worth while asking Mr. Bennett for any more, even if there’s one or two things missing.”
Oh, jiminy, Pee-wee went up in the air. “Why didn’t you get a belt-axe,” he shouted; “don’t you know a belt-axe is the most important thing of all? It’s the sign of the scout! It’s more important than the uniform.”
“He’d look nice going down Main Street with a belt-axe and no uniform,” I said; “you’re crazy on the subject of belt-axes. What’s the matter, are you afraid Hindenburg is going to invade Bridgeboro? You should worry about a belt-axe. Wait till he’s a tenderfoot.”
“That shows how much you know about scouting,” he yelled; “the belt-axe is the emblem of the woods.”
“The which?” Westy said.
“The emblem of the woods,” he hollered at the top of his voice. “You have to have a belt-axe first of all. It’s more important than the Handbook. It means woodcraft and—and—and all that sort of stuff!”
Well, first I just laughed at him and jollied him along, because I know how crazy he is about things like that—he’d wear every badge in the Handbook on his chest if he had the chance. And he’s always getting new suits and things, because his father is rich. Pee-wee’s all right only he’s daffy about all the scout stuff that you see in the pictures and he always has his belt-axe dragging on his belt, even when he’s home, as if he expected to chop down all the telegraph poles on Main Street.
“You have belt-axes on the brain,” Westy told him.
“He’s got them on the belt anyway,” I said.