“You’re crazy!” Pee-wee shouted.
“He went into a store and asked for the handbook and when they told him they didn’t have one he asked for the feetbook. He thinks the feetbook has got all the daring feats in it. He–”
“Don’t you believe him,” Pee-wee yelled.
“Before he was in the scouts he used to be a radiator ornament on an automobile,” Roy persisted. “There’s a caterpillar, enter him up, Kid,” he added.
“Up at Temple Camp,” Pee-wee yelled in merciless retaliation, “they–they told him he could play on the veranda and he said he could only play on the harmonica!”
“I admit it,” Roy said. “That was when I was a second-hand scout.”
“They ought to be called the Nickel Foxes, that’s what all the scouts up at Temple Camp say,” Pee-wee shouted. “Because none of them ever have more than five cents.”
“The Raving Ravens haven’t got any sense,” Roy came back. “Five is twice as good as nothing.”
“That shows how much you know about arithmetic,” Pee-wee retorted.
“It’s good the boss isn’t here,” Warde said, “or he’d laugh himself to death.” The boss was what they always called Blythe.