“Sure, in the end he’ll have to get his jaw fixed,” I said.
Dub said, “I don’t think his jaw will ever need to be fixed, it seems to be in pretty good shape.”
“Did you see Bobby’s Gold Medal?” the kid piped up. “It’s a new kind of a one, it’s got all filigree around it, and it says FOR LIFE SAVING. I had to be a witness to prove I got saved. I had to prove it that I’m alive.”
“You don’t have to prove that,” I said.
Sandy said, “I’m going to get a new kind of award started. It’s going to be made out of fourteen carat gold—”
“Fourteen carrots are nothing for Pee-wee,” I said. “If I was making a medal for him I’d have fourteen carrots, nineteen turnips, a lot of mashed potatoes and three helpings of blackberry pudding. I’d have the medal in the shape of a pancake, hey Dub?”
Sandy said, “My new medal would be all studded with diamonds and it would be given to any Scout who failed to save Pee-wee’s life.”
“That’s a fine idea,” I said.
“If it wasn’t for me Bobby Easton wouldn’t have that medal or the hundred dollars either,” Pee-wee shouted. “He’s going to save fifty dollars of it for when he comes up next summer and the two of us are going to build a cabin and there ain’t going to be any Silver Foxes allowed to come to it.”
“The pleasure is ours,” I told him.