“I think it’s peanuts,” Hunt Manners said.
Pretty soon the little angel eating peanuts crossed the road and cut up across the lawn. He’s always cutting up in some way or other.
“For goodness’ sake, look at him,” I said; “he’s a walking junk shop. We could sell him for old metal.”
Honest, I had to laugh. That kid looked like a Christmas tree. He was wearing his belt-axe and it looked as if it weighed a ton the way it dragged his belt down. In front he had his scout jack-knife dangling from his belt and his big nickel-plated compass hanging by a cord around his neck. He had all his badges on, and besides he had his aluminum cooking set hanging by a strap from his shoulder. He had his brown scarf on too, he didn’t care how hot it was. The reason the Ravens chose brown for their color is because they’re all nuts in that patrol. He had his scout staff with the Raven pennant on it and he was jabbing it into the ground as he came along.
Westy said, “What’s this? A traveling hardware store?”
Dorry said, “Are you starting off on a crusade, Kid? Where’s your steel armor? What’s the large idea? Have the Germans invaded Bridgeboro?”
I was laughing so hard I could hardly speak. The kid looked like that picture in the handbook that shows just how to wear the medals and things.
“What’s this? A coffee-pot?” Ralph Warner asked him. “You must be going to join the Cook’s Tours with all your cooking things. What’s the big idea of all the exterior decorations?”
“I’m a delegation,” Pee-wee said.
“A what?” I asked him.