“Don’t you know what a missionary is?” he shot back at me.
“Good night! Pity the poor heathens,” I said. “So that’s what you’ve got the compass for! You’re going to China? Break it to us gently. You sound like a Ford when you walk.”
“You think you’re smart, don’t you?” he shouted. “I was out doing a good turn, so there. I was out doing a good turn for your patrol. I was trying to get you a new member. When you go after new members you’ve got to look like a scout, haven’t you? You’ve got to show them what scouting is, so they’ll see. Everybody knows that. Didn’t you ever hear that it takes a scout to catch a scout?”
“You couldn’t catch a snail with all that junk hanging on you,” I told him. “Who did you try to catch?”
“Warde Hollister,” he shouted.
Good night, we all began to laugh.
“Warde Hollister?” I said. “You couldn’t catch that fellow with a lasso. He loves the wild and woolly front porch too much. You stand a tall chance of getting Warde Hollister into the scouts. You’re wasting your time, Kiddo. What did he tell you?”
“He said he has something better to do with himself,” Pee-wee said.
“There you go,” Dorry told him; “that’s him all over. Why should he join the Silver Foxes when he can shoot buffaloes and Indians and hunt train robbers and kidnap maidens and dig up buried treasure?”
“Where can he do that?” Pee-wee wanted to know.