“They’re afraid of flame,” the kid said, very proud. “That’s something scouts are supposed to know about. They’re supposed to know how to do more than just talk.”
“The pleasure is ours,” I said. “You lose and we win as you usually do if not oftener. Actions are better than words.”
By that time the two girls were coming back, very slow and careful-like.
“Are you sure it’s all right?” Marjorie asked us.
“Positively guaranteed,” I said. “Sir Harris drove them before him. He’s the only original boy scout shiveller. He shivelled them in with a shovel of fire. He’s the pied piper of Temple Camp, named after a mince pie. Behold the land is freed from wasps!”
The girls came back ever so careful. “Are you sure there are none around?” they asked us. I guess they thought they could protect each other from wasps by hanging onto each other.
Brent said, “We can now pick things up and proceed with the jelly cones.”
“Are you sure they can’t get out?” Stella Wingate wanted to know. They were getting a little easier in their minds, I could see that. “You are all too silly for anything,” she said. “Pee-wee acted while you talked. And I believe that you, Mr. Hervey, or whatever they call you, would have been just headstrong enough to knock it down. I suppose that’s what you would have called one of your feats.”
I said, “Sure, he’s very headstrong with his feet. How about the eats that you were going to cook when we were rudely interrupted by the flying corps?”
“I am going to make as many jelly cones as Pee-wee can eat, so there,” said Marjorie. “Because he’s the hero of the day.”