Pee-Wee Harris | Page 3

you couldn't. I knew a man that
died from not eating a banana, I did."
"Explain all that," the postman said.
"He threw a banana away on his porch instead of eating it and later he
stepped on it and slid down the steps and broke his leg and they took
him to the hospital and compilations set in and he got pneumonia and
died from not eating that banana. So there."
"That's a very fine argument." the postman said as he went away.
"I know better ones than that." Pee-Wee shouted after him.
CHAPTER II
A TRAGIC PREDICAMENT
So there he sat upon his precarious perch trying to reassume the posture

which insured a good balance, clinging to the trunk with one hand and
to the banana with the other.
And now that the encounter which had almost resulted in a tragic
sacrifice was over, and while our scout hero pauses triumphant, it may
be fitting to apologize to the reader for introducing our hero in the act
of eating. But indeed it was a question of introducing him in the act of
eating or of not introducing him at all.
For a story of Pee-Wee Harris is necessarily more or less a story of
food. And this is a story abounding in cake and pie and waffles and
crullers and cookies and hot frankfurters. There will be found in it also
ice cream cones and jaw breakers and coconut bars and potatoes
roasted on sticks. Heroes of stories may have starved on desert islands
but there is to be none of that here.
In this tale, if you follow the adventures of our scout hero (who now at
last appears before you as a star), you shall find lemonade side by side
with first aid, and all the characters shall receive their just desserts,
some of them (not to mention any names) two helpings.
So there he sat upon the branch, the mascot of the Raven Patrol, with
an interior like the Mammoth Cave and a voice like the whisperings of
the battle zone in France. Take a good look at him while he is quiet for
ten seconds hand running. Everything about him is tremendous--except
his size. He is built to withstand banter, ridicule and jollying; his sturdy
nature is guaranteed proof against the battering assaults of unholy mirth
from other scouts; his round face and curly hair are the delight of the
girls of Bridgeboro; his loyalty is as the mighty rock of Gibraltar. A
bully little scout he is--a sort of human Ford.
The question of removing the letter from the banana and getting rid of
the banana (in the proper way) now presented itself to him. He took a
bite of the banana and the letter almost fell. He then tried releasing his
hold upon the trunk but that would not do. He then extracted the letter
with his teeth which effectually prevented him from eating the banana.
What to do?

Steadying himself with one hand (he could not let go the trunk for so
much as a moment), he brought the banana to his lips, held it between
his teeth and took the letter in his unoccupied hand. As he bit into the
banana the part remaining trembled and hung as on a thread; another
moment and it would drop. The predicament was tragic. Slowly, but
surely and steadily, the remainder of the banana broke away and
fell--into the hand that held the letter.
Holding both letter and banana in the one perspiring palm, Pee-Wee
devoured first the one and then the other. Both were delicious, the letter
particularly. It had one advantage over the banana, for he could only
devour the banana once, whereas he devoured the contents of the letter
several times. He wished that bananas and doughnuts were like letters.
CHAPTER III
AN INVITATION
The envelope was postmarked Everdoze which, with its one thousand
two hundred and fifty--seven inhabitants, was the cosmopolitan center
of Long Valley which ran ( if anything in that neighborhood could be
said to run) from Baxter City down below the vicinity of the bridge on
the highway. That is, Long Valley bordered the highway on its western
side for a distance of about ten miles. The valley was, roughly speaking,
a couple of miles wide, very deep in places, and thickly wooded. It was
altogether a very sequestered and romantic region. Through it,
paralleling the highway, was a road, consisting mostly of two wagon
ruts with a strip of grass and weeds between them. To traverse Long
Valley one turned into this road where it left the highway at Baxters,
and in the course of time the wayfarer would emerge out of this dim
tract into the light of day where the unfrequented road came into the