“A Gold Medal Scout has to kind of live by himself kind of away from other fellows,” the kid said.
“I wish you were one then,” I told him. “The further off the better. The North Pole would be a good place, you could get plenty of pineapple ice up there.”
“Did you see the bulletin-board to-day?” the kid piped up.
“No, did you fix that?” I asked him.
He said, “There’s an announcement that I wrote that to-morrow night there’s going to be a show that I’m going to give in the Pavilion, it’s two cents to get in. It’s going to be an exhibition of beetles and caterpillars and special kinds of spiders, and there are going to be some lizards too, and I’m going to give a lecture about them.”
“Now at last I realize how lucky I am,” Dub said.
“Be thankful there’s a place called Jersey City,” I told him.
Maybe I never told you that Pee-wee has a Bronx Park zoo in a cigar box.
I didn’t want him to keep talking about what the Scouts would be doing at camp all summer, because I was thinking about Dub, so I said, “Come on, let’s play Follow Your Leader, only we have to keep going in the right direction. The idea is to advance by easy stages, merrily, merrily, toward Catskill Landing. We’ve got to be there by ten-three.”
“You mean three-ten!” Pee-wee shouted.