"Don't you worry," he said; "it'll come to-morrow. I'll fix it for you."
"You're one bully little fixer," I said (because he was always talking about fixing things), "but if Uncle Sam doesn't bring it, you can't. But, anyway, you and I are going to have a good hike, you little raving Raven," I said; "just as soon as we can. I know I haven't seen much of you, Pee-wee, but it isn't because I don't like you."
He just said, "Hsh" and went off on tiptoe through the woods, stalking his hop-toad. He's a mighty nice little fellow, Pee-wee is. And he's a bully little scout. Scout pace and good turns, those are his specialties. He just stalks hop-toads on the side.
* * * * *
Late that night Mr. Ellsworth came back. The bus brought him up from Catskill. I didn't see him, but early in the morning on my way over to wait for the mail, I met Vic Norris and Hunt Ward of the Elks.
Vic Norris said, "This'll be the end of Camp McCord. Mr. E. is going to take Skinny to Bridgeboro this morning."
"Oh, is that so?" I said; "Skinny is with the Gold Dust Twins, and they have nothing to do with Temple Camp."
"Skinny is in Mr. Ellsworth's care," Hunt Ward said.
"Pretty soon he'll be in the Reformatory's care," Vic blurted out.
"Yes," I said, "and all because you had his head all turned with swimming, before he's even passed his second class tests. You were glad enough to use him. You were glad enough to see his poor little skinny legs kicking in the water, just so as you could get something out of it. Now you throw him down. Those Gold Dust Twins are better scouts than you are—they are. You're not fit to stay in the same camp with Bert Winton; you're in my own troop, but I tell you that. You leave Mr. Ellsworth out of it."