Somebody shouted, “He’s home eating his supper. Do you want to go and see him?”
I said, “No, we want him to come and see us. Can’t you see from our sign we’re on a bee-line hike?”
Somebody shouted, “He’s at supper. Do you have to see him?”
I said, “No, the army and navy will do just as well; we’re not particular. Wait till I consult with my official staff.”
I couldn’t understand what my official staff said because his mouth was full of peanut brittle. “Here’s the box, eat that too,” I said.
Then I said good and loud, “We have an important communication to address to the police department. We’ve caught a bandit——”
“We’ve got him bound with fetters,” the kid shouted.
“Give me that phonograph horn,” I told him; “the crowd is growing bigger.”
Good night, that was the end of me. I was superseded like a general in the third grade—I mean in history. There was Pee-wee standing on the grocery box, his aluminum cooking set all over the ground, shouting through the old phonograph horn at the top of his voice. A little way off I could see a cop coming across the green. I guess he was going to chase us off first, till he heard what Pee-wee was saying.