Pee-Wee Harris | Page 2

said as best he could with his mouth full. "Waaer--mint."
"Can't wait," the postman said, heartlessly moving away.
"Waymnt," Pee-Wee yelled, frantically taking another bite;
"wayermntdyehear, waymnt!"

"Do you think the government can wait for you to finish a banana?" the
postman demanded with a wicked grin upon his face. "You got two
hands; here, take the letter if you want it; here it is," he added, reaching
up.
Pee-Wee tried to dispatch the remainder of the banana by one gigantic
and triumphant bite but the desperate expedient did not work; his
mouth with all its long practice, could not keep up with his hand; it
became clogged while yet a considerable length of banana projected
out of the gracefully drooping rind.
"Here, take it," the postman said in a tone of ruthless finality.
Chewing frantically and waving the remainder of banana menacingly
like a club, the baffled hero uttered some incomprehensible, imploring
jumble of suffocated words while the postman moved away a step or
two, repressing a fiendish smile.
"Throwaway the banana," he said.
By this time Pee-Wee was able to speak and while his chewing
apparatus was momentarily disengaged he demanded to know if the
postman thought he was crazy. The postman, resolved not to miss the
fun of the situation, was not going to let Pee-Wee take another bite;
time was precious, and two more bites of the sort that Pee-Wee took
might leave his hand free.
"Take the letter," he said with an air of cold determination, "or I'll leave
it at the house. Here, take it quick; I've no time to waste."
"Do you want me to waste a banana," Pee-Wee yelled imploringly; "a
scout is supposed--"
"Here, take it", the postman said.
There followed the most terrible moment in the life of Pee-Wee Harris,
Scout. He knew that one more bite would be fatal, that the postman
would not wait. In two bites, or in three at most, he could finish the

banana and his hand would be free.
How could a postman, who brings joy to the lonely, words of love from
far away, cheer to those who wait, comfort from across the seas, Boys'
Life Magazine--how could such a being be so relentless and cruel? If
that letter were left at the house, Pee-Wee would have to go to the
house and get it, and there his mother was lying in ambush waiting to
pounce upon him and make him mow the lawn, Why would not the
postman wait for just two bites? Maybe he could do it in one, he had
consumed a peach in one bite and a ham sandwich in four--his star
record.
He made a movement with his hand, and simultaneously the postman
retreated a step or two toward the house. Pee-Wee tried releasing his
hold upon the trunk with the other hand and almost lost his balance on
the shaky limb.
"Here," said the postman, unyielding, "chuck the banana and take the
letter or you'll find it waiting for you in the front hall. It's an important
letter, it feels as if it had a couple of cookies in it." The postman knew
Pee-Wee. "Here you go," the torturer said grimly, "take it or not, suit
yourself."
"Can't you see both hands are busy?" the victim pled. "Two bites--a
scout is supposed not to waste anything--he's supposed--he's
supposed--wait a minute--he's supposed if he starts a thing to finish
it--wait, I'm not going to take a bite, I'm only giving you an
argument--can't you wait--"
"Here you go, last chance, take it," the postman said, a faint smile
hovering at the corner of his mouth, "one, two,"
Out of Pee-Wee's wrath and anguish came an inspiration.
"Stick the letter in the banana," he said, holding the banana down.
"I don't know about that," the postman said, ruefully.

"I know about it," Pee-Wee thundered down at him. "You said I had to
take it or not; that letter belongs to me and you, have to deliver it. This
banana, it's--it's the same as a mail box--you stick the letter in the
banana. You think you're so smart, you thought you'd make me throw
away the banana, naaah, didn't you? I wouldn't do that, not even
for--for--secretary--for the postmaster--general, I wouldn't! A scout has
resource."
"All right, you win," said the postman, good humoredly, "only look out
you don't fall; here you go, hold on tight."
Clutching to the knotty projection of trunk, Pee-Wee reached the other
hand as low as he could and the postman, smiling, stuck the corner of
the coveted letter into the mealy substance of the banana.
"You win," the postman repeated laughingly; "it shows what Scout
Harris can do with food."
"Food will win the war," Pee-Wee shouted. "You thought you could
make me throwaway my banana but