“All right,” Pee-wee shouted; “I vote to leave this tree where it is. We had plenty of fun.”
“I vote to have some eats,” I said.
“Second the motion,” one of Brent’s scouts spoke up. Believe me, a scout is a friend of eats.
“You won’t get me to help chop it down,” Grove said.
“I’ll stick up for you,” Willie Wide-Awake sang out.
“I seem to have a large minority,” Harry said; “how about you, Brent?”
Brent said, “Oh, I vote for the original ending. I’m a friend to everything that’s different. I say, let’s not find the treasure—let’s beat the story books at their own game. If Roy ever writes up all this nonsense, why the readers will think that we’re all going to end up millionaires.”
“They’ll get left,” Pee-wee said; “we’re just plain scouts. It—it came to a showdown.”
Harry said, “Well, it seems as if the old Dahadinee poplar wins. I think I’ll leave this bench right here underneath it, in memory of Thor and Ann.”
“And Grace Bronson,” I said.