Pee-Wee Harris on the Trail | Page 6

there are more kinds of eats than
there are kinds of birds. How the Bridgeboro troop would be able to get
along without their little mascot was a question. For he was their
"fixer." That was his middle name--"fixer."
And of all of the things of which Pee-wee was "absolutely positive" the
thing of which he was the most positive was that two thieves connected
with the "crime wave" were riding away in Mr. Bartlett's big
Hunkajunk "touring model" and carrying him (a little scout model)
along with them.
What should he do? Being a scout, he took council of his wits and
decided to write on a page of his hikebook a sentence saying that he
was being carried away by thieves, giving his name and address, and

cast this overboard as a shipwrecked sailor puts a message in a bottle.
Then someone would find the message and come to rescue him.
But with what should he weight his fluttering message, so that it would
fall in the road? Pee-wee was a scout of substance and had amassed a
vast fortune in the way of small possessions. He owned the cap of a
fountain pen, a knob from a brass bedstead, two paper clips, a horse's
tooth, a broken magnifying glass, a device for making noises in the
classroom, a clock key, a glass tube, a piece of chalk for making scout
signs, and other treasures. But these were in the pockets of his scout
uniform and could be of no service to him in his predicament.
The only trinket which he had was the fragment of a sandwich. Having
reduced this, by a generous bite, to one-half its size, he wrote his note
as well as he could without moving too much. One deadly weapon he
had with him and that was a safety pin. With this he now pierced the
piece of sandwich to the heart, linking it forever with that note written
tremblingly in a moment of forlorn hope and utter darkness, under the
kindly concealment of the buffalo robe.
On the opposite page is the note and how it looked.
Having cast this last message out upon the road he withdrew his arm
cautiously back under the robe and lay as nearly motionless as possible,
prepared for the worst.
If he should never be heard of again, it would seem both touching and
appropriate, that this memento of him should be a morsel of food
(which he loved) fastened with a safety pin which was the weapon that
he always carried.
[Illustration: [Handwritten note] I am being kidnapped by thieves who
are stealing Mr. Bartlett's car. I don know where I am. If anybody find
this please take it to my house Bridgeboro Walter Harris Scout Br]
CHAPTER VII
LOCKED DOORS

Like the ground-hog, Pee-wee did not emerge again until the occasion
was more propitious. For fully an hour the car ran at high speed which
afforded him some hope that the strong arm of the law might intervene.
But the strong arm of the law was apparently under its pillow in
delicious slumber. Not a snag did those bloody fugitives encounter in
their flight.
At last the car slowed down and Pee-wee could feel that it was turning
into another road. His unwitting captors were evidently either nervous
or sleepy, for they talked but little.
The car proceeded slowly now, and when our hero ventured to steal a
quick glimpse from under his covering he perceived that they were
going along a road so dark and narrow that it seemed like a leafy tunnel.
The somber darkness and utter silence of this sequestered region made
the deed of these outlaws seem all the blacker. There was now no doubt
whatever of the criminal nature of their bold enterprise. For surely no
law-abiding, civilized beings lived in such a remote wilderness as now
closed them in.
Soon the car came to a stop, and Pee-wee's thumping heart almost came
to a stop at the same time. Suppose they should lift the robe? What
would they do? And quite as much to the point, what should he do? A
sudden impulse to throw off his kindly camouflage and run for all he
was worth, seized him. But he thought of those seventy pistols and two
blackjacks and refrained. Should he face them boldly, like the hero in a
story book and say, "Ha, ha, you are foiled. The eyes of the scout have
followed you in your flight and you are caught!"
No he would not do that. A scout is supposed to be cautious. He would
remain under the buffalo robe.
Presently he heard the unmistakable sound and felt the unmistakable
feeling of the car being run into some sort of a shelter. The voices of
the