Brent said, “They’ll never fix it that way. Maybe some of those holes are clogged up, but not all of them.” Then he called down to the man and said, “What seems to be the trouble? Won’t she sprinkle?”
“Mixture’s too gol darned thick, I reckon,” one of the men called back.
“Well, it wouldn’t clog up all the holes,” Brent said; “probably the feed pipe is clogged up.”
The man said, “Well, I don’t know how we’re ever going to get at that unless we take the whole bloomin’ thing apart.”
Then I heard Brent say, under his breath kind of, “I could fix that in five minutes.”
“Then you have to do it,” the kid shouted; “you have to do a good turn.”
“Look and see if there isn’t a turn cock on the feed pipe,” Brent called down; “maybe it joggled shut. That sometimes happens on an auto.”
The two men got down under the sprinkler and began looking and feeling around, but they couldn’t seem to find anything. After a couple of minutes Brent climbed down and said, “Let’s take a look at this.” I guess they could see that he was a pretty good mechanic, all right. Anyhow they stepped out of the way and Brent crawled down under the sprinkler. He lay on his back part way underneath it and we all watched him.
“He’ll find the trouble,” Pee-wee said to the man; “he’s head of a scout troop, he is, and he’s resourceful. A scout has got to be resourceful. Don’t you worry, we’ll do you a good turn, all right.”
The men kind of smiled, and one of them said, “All right, sonny. So yer fer doin’ good turns, hey?”