“Sure,” I said. “The battle of Brown’s hat sign. Wounded, none. Killed, none. Hungry, everybody.”
Then we all set up a cheer for the painter and the other man. When they came near enough I shouted, “Hey, mister, we’re thinking of retiring from the hat business.”
“Hey, mister,” Pee-wee shouted; “aren’t we a part of this sign?”
“Absolutely,” the painter said. “You’re the best part of it.”
“Now you see!” Pee-wee shouted down at the farmer, “You thought we were just hanging around here. Now you see! We’re just as much on top as the hats are.”
“Except when we fall down,” I said.
“A man’s hat might blow off, mightn’t it?” the kid yelled. “That wouldn’t prove his hat isn’t on top, would it?”
“That’s a very fine argument,” the man who was with the painter said.
“I know some better ones than that,” Pee-wee yelled down at him. “Do you know we caught a bandit?”