CHAPTER XII
THREE’S A COMPANY
And now, since the sun had reappeared and they had decided to take things a little easier, Pee-wee announced his intentions of going on a pilgrimage to Woodcliff to hunt up the mysterious Helen Shirley Bates, and to ascertain from her the address of her soldier friend whom she had entertained at dinner during the war. For it was on Pee-wee’s conscience that the soldier who had lost his wallet had written a letter to his mother somewhere or other and that this had never reached its destination.
“Are you going to wear your Sunday uniform?” Roy asked. For Pee-wee kept a special suit of scout khaki for ceremonial occasions. Upon the sleeve of this were his merit badges.
On this notable pilgrimage, knowing the weakness of young ladies for official regalia, he wore also his canteen (empty), his scout axe–to hew his way into her presence perhaps–a coil of rope dangling from his belt, his scout scarf tied in the celebrated “raven knot” and his hat inside out as a reminder that he had not yet performed his daily good turn. Upon mailing the letter to its proper address, and not until then, would Scout Harris, R.P. F.B.T. B.S.A., put his hat on right side out. He also took some fudge which he had made as a tribute to his unknown Woodcliff friend. He was prepared to chop her to pieces or to give her candy, whichever the occasion required.
He was indeed a human quartermaster’s department and in addition to this equipment he carried also somewhere in the depths of one of his pockets a scout note book wherein the good scout rule of “jotting down things seen by the way” was scrupulously obeyed. There were few wayside trifles that escaped Scout Harris’ observant eye. A sample page from this record of his travels will give an idea of his thoroughness:
August 10th. From Temple Camp to Catskill. Passed a worm also a piece of a ginger snap. Passed a smell like a kitchen. Found a rubber heel in the road. A dead bug was upside down in a puddle. Met a fence. Saw something that looked like a snake but it was a shoe-lace. Had a soda in Catskill. Had another–raspberry. Saw a flat tire as flat as a pancake and it started me thinking about pancakes.
And so on, and so on.
It was Roy whom Pee-wee chose to accompany him on his important mission. They had reached a point about fifty yards from the shacks, two of which were well-nigh demolished, when they heard a voice and turning saw Warde Hollister drop from a rafter and come running toward them.
“How far is Woodcliff?” he asked, out of breath, and as if caught by a sudden idea.
“’Bout six or seven miles,” Roy said. “We don’t know just exactly where we’re going except that it’s somewhere around Woodcliff Lake.”