And a lot of them said I was put out of the Roy Blakeley Series and that on account of that I started a series of my own. If they tried that it would be the best part of all the stories. Gee whiz! I like Tom Slade. There are snakes and peach orchards and everything down there.
Clean interior pages with four glossy illustrations. Near the flour barrel hung several goodly pudding bags, luscious reminders of Thanksgiving. Pee-wee did not answer; he appeared to be thinking. Doughnuts six for a dime! With enough rest, he's sure to ace the test.
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This notice had evidently been brought down by the mail driver early in the morning and several wfe citizens of Everdoze were gathered Pee wee harris commenting on it. Oh, no! This is when his name was first spelled with the capital "W" and the hyphen was removed. The series also Per other Scouts from the "First Pee wee harris Troop" such as Tom Slade, Roy Blakeley, and Westy Martin, who each also had their own series of books, the first two preceding the Pee-wee series and the last following it. This solemn apartment was the only room in the house that had a Girlfriends on webcam covering and the fact that Pee-wee could not hear his own foot-falls agitated him strangely. He then removed the dagger-like lemon stick again to observe it. Single Issue Magazine. He retreated to the platform in front of the post office and consulted with Harrid Bungel, the village constable, about this sumptuous apparition. Pee-wee left no doubt about this. A scout has resource. He had shown Pepsy, conclusively, how good turns to say nothing of bad ones are always paid back by an eee law. There was nothing for the baffled village sport to do but retreat as gracefully as he could.
From high adventure to cooking, nobody explores Scouting like Pee Wee Harris.
- And a lot of them said I was put out of the Roy Blakeley Series and that on account of that I started a series of my own.
- Would you like to tell us about a lower price?
- Many people go through life unaware of how we are connected.
- Walter "Pee-wee" Harris is a fictional Boy Scout who has appeared in several series of boy's books by Percy Keese Fitzhugh as well as in a long-running comic strip in the magazine Boys' Life.
- All rights reserved.
Seller Rating:. First Edition; First Printing. Seller Inventory More information about this seller Contact this seller 1. Published by Grosset and Dunlap, NY Condition: Fair.
No Jacket. Barbour illustrator. Apparent First Editon. General wear. Tape repair to spine. Ex school library. More information about this seller Contact this seller 2.
Condition: Good. More information about this seller Contact this seller 3. More information about this seller Contact this seller 4. Condition: Good and Good.
A good, generally clean, neat hard cover edition with minor exterior shelf wear, but minor soiling to the cover cloth, binding solid, paper lightly yellowed light soiling to the top fore-edge. A good, generally clean, neat hard cover first edition with minor exterior shelf wear, and rubbing at the corners, some slight fraying started at the top and bottom edges of the spine cloth, binding solid, paper moderately yellowed. More information about this seller Contact this seller 5. Published by Whitman Publishing, Racine, Wisc.
Cloth Hardack. Condition: Fine. First Edition. More information about this seller Contact this seller 6. From: booksforcomfort Comfort, TX, U. Condition: Very Good. Hardbound, no DJ. Condition: VG. Content edges yellowed with age. Back binding worn. Published with the approval of The Boy Scouts of America.
Description text copyright BooksForComfort. Item ID More information about this seller Contact this seller 7. Dust Jacket Condition: No Dj. H S Barbour frontis illustrator. A "Boy Scout" adventure from one of the best-known boys' series books of the last century. Very good interior. More information about this seller Contact this seller 8. Published by Grosset and Dunlap About this Item: Grosset and Dunlap, Condition: Very Good -. Previous owner's name on the inside front.
Gold covers with red titling are nice and clean with some foxing-like staining on the spine end and top edges from shelf life and age. Binding tight and pages exceptionally clean!. More information about this seller Contact this seller 9. Dust Jacket Condition: Good. Dust Jacket has chipped off spine edges owner's ink name. More information about this seller Contact this seller Condition: very good. First Edition, Lists to Self. NOT an ex library book. Book with brown cover, print in red and black.
Gift inscription on front endpaper. Clean interior pages with four glossy illustrations. Ten titles are listed at rear of book. This book is 11 of the series and is not on the list. Original edition, apparent first printing no additional printings indicated. Small tan hardcover with red lettering on front cover and black lettering on spine. No dust jacket. Cover has light wear, slightly soiled from use. Tight binding. Occasional light foxing on pages.
Page edges a little soiled. About Very Good minus. Barbour plus 6pp Pub. Published with the approval of the Boy Scouts of America.
Tan cloth with red ttitle on front. Hard Cover. Published by Grosset and Dunlap Publishers About this Item: Grosset and Dunlap Publishers, No previous owner markings - all pages are clean and crisp.
This is the fourteenth book in the Roy Blakeley series. Illustrated by H. Barbour and cover art by Thomas Clarity. Percy Keese Fitzhugh September 7, ? July 5, was an American author of nearly books for children and young adults. The bulk of his work, having a Boy Scouting theme, revolves around the fictional town of Bridgeboro, New Jersey. Each of these characters had their own, distinctly different, series of books. Very respectable First Edition in original DJ. Mattson First Edition; Early Printing.
Very Good in boards, owner address to FEP. From: b. Condition: Near Fine. Dust Jacket Condition: V Good. H S Barbour illustrator. Faint trace of shelfware, pages beginning to darken, Near Fine in V Good price clipped, shelfworn dj with chips at corners, several small closed tears, and heavier wear at dj folds.
From: edconroybooks Troy, NY, U. No ink names, bookplates, etc. DJ in a clear plastic protective cover. Condition: Very good. Includes 3 black and white illustrated by H. First edition. Red cloth hardcover. Dust jacket torn and chipped, now wrapped in protective mylar to prevent further wear. Some barely visible foxing on top fore edge. Pages clean.
He went forth armed with the hammer and tacks and a pile of mysterious cards, a little proud but trembling a little, too. It was not hard for the scout to follow this line of trampled brush which was so disordered that he thought it could not have been caused by a walking or fleeing person. Then they descended upon him as only hungry scouts can descend. Going to the post office early in the morning, he saw a sign posted on the bulletin board and he read it with lively interest. The two stove lids were laid a little off their places to check the banked fire, leaving two bright crescent lines like a pair of eyes staring up at her. In accordance with his invariable daily custom, Mr.
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Avoid your opponents and collect all the stars in this raucous racing game. Pee Wee has done it again. Help him explore a creepy castle and find map fragments to escape. Help Pee Wee smash all of the blocks before the ball falls out of the window. Pee Wee has a Big Test tomorrow and he's nervous. So nervous that he tosses and turns all night. You can help! Get Pee Wee through his nightmare and into peaceful dreamland. With enough rest, he's sure to ace the test. Listen and watch!
Battle the big bad bugs by keeping them away from your camp. You'll need quick wits and a good vocabulary. Blast away the marbles as they roll down the track. You'll have to shoot accurately and quickly or it's all over. Your mission is simple: Catch Fish! Pee Wee is on his own for this challenge Catch a certain number of fish to advance to the next level, but do it before the temperature drops. Test your aim as you try to hit the targets in an old-time shooting gallery.
It was late in the afternoon when they reached Baxter City and here they turned into such a road as Charlie vowed he had never seen before. Scarcely had they gone a mile over rocks and ruts when the dim woods closed in on either side, imparting a strange coolness. It was almost like going through a leafy tunnel. Projecting branches brushed the top of the car and mischievously grazed and tickled their faces.
The voices of the birds, clear in the stillness, seemed to complain at this intrusion into their domain. The road took them southward through the valley. They were not far west of the highway but the low country and the thick woods obscured it from view. They could hear the tooting of auto horns over that way and sometimes human voices sounding strange across the intervening solitude.
Pee-wee took the last bite of a hot frankfurter he had bought at a roadside shack on the highway and was now more free to talk. It was a distant rattling sound which began suddenly and ended suddenly. They both listened. Loose planking, hey? Pee-wee listened to the rattling of the loose planks as another car sped over the unseen structure, little dreaming of the part that bridge was destined to play in his young life.
The commonplace noise of the neglected flooring seemed emphasized by the quiet of the woodland. They had, indeed, inscribed a kind of loop and having passed its farthest point from the main road were traveling toward it again and would have emerged upon it just beyond the bridge but for the wood embowered and sequestered village which was their destination. The first sign of this village was a cow standing in the middle of the grass-grown road as if to challenge their approach.
Perhaps she was stationed there as a sort of traffic cop It will be seen by a glance at the accompanying sketch that the village of Everdoze was about opposite the bridge on the highway. From this main road the village could be reached by a trail through the woods. On hearing of this, Charlie expressed regret that he had not allowed his passenger to make the final stage of the journey on foot.
I thought you were a great, tall, strapping boy. And what on earth is that saucepan for? Are you going to cook us all alive? Did you ever see such a thing!
Pee-wee gave this girl a withering look which she boldly returned, continuing to stare at him. Her face was covered with freckles and she was so unqualifiedly plain and homely in face and attire that she might be said to have been attractive on the ground of novelty.
You come right here and do as I say now and no more of those looks. You do as I say now. His head vibrated in unison with it and his look of intentness carried with it all sorts of friendly expectations. He fairly shook with excitement and cordiality. He followed the sedan car a few yards upon its homeward journey and then, by a sudden impulse, deserted it and returned to a position directly in front of Pee-wee with wagging tail and questioning gaze.
I bet they make a lot of money along that road selling things. There are shacks all the way. All the autoists stop and buy things to eat.
You can get tires and everything. I know a feller who was an orphan and he was sorry for it afterwards. At this point Pee-wee was summoned again to the kitchen where he ate a sumptuous repast, after which Pepsy and Wiggle took him about and showed him the farm. Pee-wee and Pepsy fenced a good deal but seemed to progress in this cautious and defensive way toward a friendly understanding. As for Wiggle he danced about, following elusive scents that led nowhere, carried off and back again by quick impulse, till at last the three ended their tour of inspection at a little summer house which had been built over a spring by the roadside.
Here they drank of the bubbling, crystal water, Wiggle doing this as everything else, with erratic impulse, drinking a dozen times and not much at any time. The dying sunlight painted the slopes of the valley with crimson tints and the countryside was very still.
Through the woods to the west could be heard occasionally the discordant noise from the loose flooring of the bridge on the highway as an auto sped over it.
In the quiet evening the sound, with its sudden start, its rattling clamor and its quick cessation, made a jarring note in all the surrounding peacefulness. Those planks can talk, they say the same thing every day. Being a tomboy? She and Uncle Ebenezer had agreed to be responsible for the girl, and Pepsy had spent a year of joyous freedom at the farm marred only by the threat hanging over her that she would be restored to the authorities upon the least suspicion of misconduct.
She had done her work faithfully and become a help and a comfort to her benefactors. She had a snappy temper and a sharp tongue and was, indeed, something of a tomboy. But Aunt Jamsiah, though often annoyed and sometimes chagrined, took a charitable view of these shortcomings and her generous heart was not likely to confound them with genuine misdoing.
Pepsy had been trusted and had proven worthy of the trust. She had never known any mother or father, nor any home save the institution from which Aunt Jamsiah had rescued her, and she had grown to love her kindly guardians and the old farm where she had much work but also much freedom. Pepsy was not romantic and imaginative; her freckled face and tightly braided red hair and thin legs with wrinkled cotton stockings, protested against that.
She had a simple mind with a touch of superstition. It was a kind of morbid dread of the institution she had left which had conjured that ramshackle old bridge up on the highway into an ominous voice of warning. She hated the bridge and dreaded it as a thing haunted. Pee-wee soon became close friends with these two, and from a rather cautious and defensive beginning Pepsy soon fell victim to the spell of the little scout, as indeed every one else did.
Pepsy did not surrender without a struggle. Wiggle seemed to be of the same opinion. He told Pepsy about tracking and stalking and signaling and the miracles of cookery which his friend Roy Blakeley had performed. And that seemed to relieve her. At such wonder-working she could only gape and stare.
But you can kill snakes and mosquitoes if you want to. You have to be helpful and think up ways to help people. No matter what happens you have to be loyal. Here was a poser for the scout. But being small Pee-wee was able to wriggle out of almost anything.
Here was another legal technicality, but Pee-wee was equal to the occasion. They had been driving the cows home during this learned exposition on scouting. One, that she would be loyal at any cost, loyal to her new friend, and through him to all the scouts. She knew them only through him. They were a race of wonder-workers away off in the surging metropolis of Bridgeboro. The other matter which was now settled, once and for all, was that it was all right to throw a tomato at a person you hated provided only that you hit the mark.
Aunt Jamsiah had been all wrong in her anger at that exploit which had stirred the village. For to throw a tomato at the son of Lawyer Gamely was aiming very high.
Pee-wee let down the bars while the patient cows waited, and Scout Wiggle knowing that a scout should be helpful gave the last cow a snip on the leg to help her along. Once I had forty cents but I spent it at the Mammoth Carnival. So there. Do you want to go partners with me? You ought to go to Temple Camp and see how wild we are.
He did not look very wild as he sat upon the narrow seat with his knees drawn up and his scout hat on the back of his head showing his curly hair. The girl gazed at his natty khaki attire, the row of merit badges on his sleeve, the trophies of his heroic triumphs. She was not the first to feel the lure of a uniform. But it was the first uniform she had ever seen at close range, for in the wartime she had been in that frowning brick structure which still haunted her. She would not do her little optional chore of milking a cow for fear he might perceive her superiority in this little item of proficiency.
Poor girl, she was a better scout than she knew. So Pee-wee told her of the colossal scheme which his lively imagination had conceived. So that shows you how important a frankfurter is—kind of. Maybe a person might get to be a millionaire just starting with a frankfurter, you never can tell You have them say that things are hot in the pan and you have to have drinks with names like arctic and all like that. What do you say?
Will you help me? The plan must be all right, and wondrous in its possibilities. It was an inspiration—born of a frankfurter. It was not for poor Pepsy to take issue with this master mind. For a moment Pee-wee paused, balked but not beaten. She knew who better than she? But she believed that somehow they would come when the scout waved his magic wand.
Just like that. Few could resist this, Pepsy least of all. Permission to use the wellhouse once secured, preparations for the vast enterprise progressed rapidly. The very next day, while Pepsy was at her chores, Pee-wee built a counter in the shack and sitting at this he printed signs to be displayed along the woody approaches to this mouth-watering dispensary.
Neither the gloomy predictions of his uncle nor the laughing skepticism of his aunt dimmed his enterprising ardor. He was somewhat handicapped in the preparation of these signs by the largeness of the perforated letters of the stencil and the limited size of the cards. He had preferred cards to paper because they would not blow and tear and Aunt Jamsiah had given him a pile of these, uniform in size, on one side of which had been printed election notices of the previous year.
It was impossible, therefore, for Pee-wee to include all of each tempting announcement on one card, so he used two cards for each reminder to the public. This is how the sign would appear upon some fence or tree. It would be a knockout blow to any hungry wayfarer. There were many others, enough to decorate the road for miles in both directions.
That was her one forlorn hope, that the fame of their offerings would get abroad and lure the traffic from its wonted path. When her chores were finished that afternoon she hurried to their refreshment parlor, where Pee-wee sat behind the new counter like a stern schoolmaster, cards strewn about him, his round face black with stencil ink, still turning out advertising bait for the public.
You always think of things. She dipped her gingham apron under the trap-door in the flooring where the clear, cool water was, and taking his chin in her coarse little freckly hands, washed the face of her hero and partner. And meanwhile Wiggle tugged on her apron as if he thought she were inflicting some injury upon the boy. So blinded was Pee-wee by this vigorous bath and so preoccupied the others that for the moment none of them noticed the young fellow of about twenty who, with hat tilted rakishly on the side of his head and cigarette drooping from the corner of his mouth, stood in the road watching them.
Deadwood Gamely was the village sport and enjoyed a certain prestige because his father was a lawyer. He was also somewhat of an object of awe because he went to Baxter City every day, and worked in the bank there. His ramshackle Ford roadster was considered an evidence of the terribly reckless extravagance of his habits, but it was really nothing more than a sort of pocketbook, since all his money went into it, and a very shabby one at that.
He had a cheap wit and swaggeringly condescending air which he practiced on the simple inhabitants of Everdoze, and in his banter he was not always kind.
Yet notwithstanding that he was tawdry both in dress and speech the villagers did not venture much into the conversational arena with him because they knew that they were not his equals in banter and retort.
Over the hill to the poorhouse. Ever hear that song? Watcher doing with him? This was not the kind of retort that Deadwood Gamely was accustomed to hearing and he gave a quick look at the small stranger in khaki who sat behind the counter like a judge on the bench staring straight at him.
If I was a crow I might be afraid of you. He sat behind his card-strewn counter holding the stencil brush like a sort of weapon ready to besmear that face of sneering assurance if its owner ventured too near. Gamely said with a side glance at Pepsy. He was not going to have her witness his discomfiture at the hands of this glib little stranger. Moreover, a slur at his personal splendor was a very grave matter and not to be overlooked. Deadwood Gamely, advancing with an air of veiled menace.
Deadwood Gamely paused. He would not really have hurt a youngster like Pee-wee but he would have made him look and feel ridiculous. Gamely that discretion was the better part of valor. A dexterous dab or two of that would have put an end to all his glory.
Pee-wee left no doubt about this. You come ten steps nearer, I dare you to. Wiggle, appearing to sense the situation, began to bark uproariously. There was nothing for the baffled village sport to do but retreat as gracefully as he could.
Deadwood Gamely broke into a very excessive but false laugh. Going to have a circus or play store or something? Pee-wee was always magnanimous in victory. Abiding enmity was a thing he knew not. Pepsy seemed a bit uncomfortable as Pee-wee said this, perhaps just a trifle ashamed. She was afraid that this clever, sophisticated young fellow would ridicule their enterprise, as indeed there was good reason to do. Yet she felt ashamed, too, of her momentary faithlessness to Pee-wee.
To her surprise Deadwood Gamely, instead of emitting an uproarious, mocking laugh, appeared to be thinking. Whose idea is it? Yours, kiddo? Deadwood Gamely sat on the fence still looking about him and whistling. Then, instead of bursting forth in derisive merriment as Pepsy dreaded he would do, he made an astonishing remark. How does that strike you? You two will be the active partners.
I mean what I say. Pee-wee and Pepsy were not agreed about allowing this third person to buy into their enterprise. Pepsy was suspicious because she could not understand it. But Pee-wee, quick to forget dislikes and trifling injuries, was strong for the new partner. Now you go and spoil it all by having three. Pepsy did not hear this rather ominous prediction about those who would eat the waffles and the taffy.
Her hate and her tears were her only arguments, but they won the day. That shows how much you know about scouts. Pepsy just sobbed. Pee-wee believed that anything could be done by power of will.
She could find the utmost joy in pretending. No, not the utmost joy, for the utmost joy would be to buy the tents Do you cross your heart? Is it going to be a success? Are we going to make lots of money—sure? Do you say it? So she sobbed out those terrible words. He promised and then suddenly she raised her head with a kind of jerk, as if possessed by a sudden, new spirit of determination. Her eyes were streaming.
She looked straight into his face. There was fire enough in her eyes to dry the tears. The next morning Pee-wee strode forth and made the magnanimous sacrifice heroically. It encouraged Pee-wee or rather confirmed his assurance of success to see this sumptuous car in Everdoze, for it proved that people did come to that sequestered village.
He pictured these two prosperous looking business men with frankfurters in their hands, their mouths dripping with mustard. Pee-wee was nothing if not self-possessed, his scout uniform was his protection, and he strode up and spoke quite to the point to the young fellow who leaned against the car with one foot on the running board.
Pee-wee had anticipated an argument with Gamely and he was surprised at the promptness and agreeableness of his dismissal.
Two things, one seen and one heard, remained in his memory as he trudged back to the farm. The other was something he heard one of the men say after he had returned a little way along the road.
Within a few seconds more the auto was rolling away. It seemed to Pee-wee that Gamely had told the men of his proposal to join the big enterprise and that they had denounced his wisdom and judgment. But Pee-wee was not the one to be discouraged by that. On the way back to the farm, Pee-wee noticed in a field the most outlandish scarecrow he had ever seen. It was sitting on a stone wall, and it must have been a brave crow that would have ventured within a mile of that ridiculous bundle of rags.
The face was effectually concealed by a huge hat as is the case with most scarecrows, and all the cast-off clothing of Everdoze for centuries back seemed combined here in incongruous array.
If the legs were not on stilts they were certainly the longest legs he had ever seen, and they must have been suspended by a kind of universal joint for they moved in every direction while bringing their burden forward. This was Licorice Stick whose home was nowhere in particular, whose profession was everything and chiefly nothing.
His teeth were as conspicuous as tombstones, and on close inspection Pee-wee saw that his tattered regalia was held together by a system of safety pins placed at strategic points. The terrible responsibility of suspenders was borne by a single strand consisting of a key ring chain connected with a shoe lace and this ran through a harness pin which, if the worst came to the worst, would act as a sort of emergency stop.
Licorice Stick was built in the shape of a right angle, his feet being almost as long as his body and they flapped down like carpet beaters when he walked. I done hear yer start a sto. She hab to go back to dat workhouse, de bridge it say so. Dat bridge am a sperrit.
I made a lot of signs and you can tack them all up on the trees along the road for us if you want to. No one was at the shack when they reached it for Pepsy was about her household duties, so she had no knowledge of this new recruit in their enterprise. Pee-wee now arranged his advertising masterpieces in order for posting. The imposing type on the cards impressed Licorice Stick deeply.
He could not read two words but he seemed to sense the sensational announcements, and the arrow which Pee-wee had made on each card to indicate the direction of the shack was regarded by him as a sort of mystic symbol.
There are two cards for each sign, see? You tack it up and right close under it you tack up the next one, and it will say:. Pee-wee repeated, holding the next two cards up. This palate tickling sleight-of-hand seemed like a miracle to the smiling, astonished messenger. Pee-wee seemed a kind of magician summoning up luscious concoctions with a magic wand. The fifth and sixth cards were held together for a moment and lo, Licorice Stick listened to the mouth-watering announcement that peanut taffy was sweet and delicious.
They had called in weird voices but they had never contrived a menu before his very eyes. He went forth armed with the hammer and tacks and a pile of mysterious cards, a little proud but trembling a little, too. There was something uncanny about this; he would see it through but it was a strange, dark business. He shuffled along the road, peering fearfully into the woods now and again when suddenly a terrible apparition appeared before him. He stood stark still, his eyes bulging out of his head, his hands shaking and cold with fear She was feeling encouraged and cheerful for indeed the little summer-house looked gay and attractive in its bunting drapery and flaunting pennants.
Failure could not lurk in such festal array, the tin dishpan full of greasy doughnuts, the homemade rolls and fresh sausages which were better than any common wayside frankfurters would certainly lure the hungry thither.
The world would seek these things out. And were not the people of the grand carnival at Berryville to pass here that very day, followed, no doubt, by gay pleasure seekers? To be sure there were no auto accessories yet, for there was no capital, but there was lemonade and candy and cider and homemade ice cream and there was Scout Harris wearing a kitchen apron ten times too big for him, tied with a wonderful, spreading bow in back, and a paper hat spotlessly white.
The advertising department had not reported, but no doubt the woods were calling to the wayfarers in glaring red and black, or would as soon as the wayfarers put in an appearance. Pepsy wore her Sunday gingham dress embellished with a sash of patriotic bunting. Lots of girls tried to jolly me but they never got away with it. I know how to handle them all right. And maybe you can buy four or five tents and lots of other things. Every night in bed I keep saying:.
But sometimes it says I have to go back. When the wind blows this way I can hear it loud. I know a secret that I thought of all by myself; I thought about it when I was lying in bed listening.
And I can make us get lots of money, I can make it, oh, lots and lots and lots of a success. Soon the gorgeous chariot containing the carnival paraphernalia came lumbering along en route for Berryville.
It was a vision of red and gold with wheels that looked like pinwheels in a fireworks display. The one discordant note about it was the rather startling projection of the heads and legs of animals here and there as if the wagon were returning from a hunt in South Africa. But these were only the disconnected parts of a merry-go-round. Upon the white and silver wind organ which arose out of this ghastly display sat a personage in cap and bells with face elaborately decorated in every color of the rainbow.
He was distributing printed announcements to the gaping citizens of Everdoze. Not so much as a frankfurter or a glass of lemonade did the people of this motley caravan buy. I just adore being lost! And I never saw anything so perfectly excruciating in my life! Pepsy was ready enough to defer to the master mind, the more so because this approach of their first probable customers gave her a kind of stage fright.
The auto was evidently picking its way along the hubbly road in second gear. At which there was a chorus of laughter. Pepsy fumbled nervously with the several glasses of lemonade which stood temptingly ready on the counter and glanced fearfully but admiringly at the genius of this magnificent enterprise.
It was the biggest moment in her poor little life and Pee-wee was a conquering hero. She placed the fudge within his reach and waited in terrible suspense to see him operate upon this giggling band of lost pilgrims. Nearer and nearer the car came and now it poked its big nickel-plated nose around the bend and advanced slowly, easily, along the narrow, grass grown way. It looked singularly out of place in that wild valley. A low, melodious horn politely reminded Simeon Drowser, who stood gaping in the middle of the road, to withdraw to a safer gaping point.
He retreated to the platform in front of the post office and consulted with Beriah Bungel, the village constable, about this sumptuous apparition. Only a couple of hundred feet remained now between the refreshment parlor and this party of mirthful victims. Get your fudge here! Pepsy looked admiringly upon her hero. She would not have dared to obtrude into the negotiations which seemed at hand.
She gazed wistfully at a half dozen girls in fresh, colorful, summer array as only a little red-headed orphan girl in a gingham dress can do. She gazed at the big, palatial touring car with eyes spellbound. It was thus that the Indians first gazed upon the ships of Columbus. Here you are! Get your fresh sweet cider! Five a glass! Doughnuts six for a dime! All fresh! What are you all going to drink, girls? The terrible conqueror, who intended to subdue this bevy of giggling maidens and cast a blight upon their levity, stood behind his counter like a soldier making a last stand in a third line trench, while Pepsy, captivated by the mirthful assailants, laughed uncontrollably.
The head of the firm saw that this was no time for dallying measures, his own partner was laughing, and even Wiggle was barking uproariously at Pee-wee as if he had shamelessly gone over to the enemy.
Look at him! Pee-wee had come around from behind the counter, tripped on his long white apron and gone sprawling on the ground, and the faithless Wiggle, taking advantage of this inglorious mishap, started pulling on the apron with all his might and main. Loyal Pepsy was only human, and tears of laughter streamed down her cheeks, and the neighboring woodland echoed to the sound of the unholy mirth in the auto.
A large frying fork which Pee-wee used as a sort of magnet to attract trade was still in his hand and by means of this he caught his white paper cap as it blew away, piercing it as if it were a fresh doughnut. It was indeed the only instance of triumph for him in the tragic affair. He arose, with Wiggle still tugging at his apron, his face decorated with colorful earth, his eyes glaring defiance. I could just kiss him. But it was so excruciatingly funny.
You said you were going to handle them. I can handle scoutmasters even. Pee-wee did not trouble himself about what the man had said. His chief interest was the dollar and ten cents of working capital which they now had and how to invest it.
In his enthusiasm he had been rather premature in his advertisement of auto accessories and he now purposed to make good at least one of these announcements by commissioning Simeon Drowser to buy some ten-cent rolls of tire tape for him at Baxter City, whither Simeon went daily.
He started along the road to the post office where he hoped to catch Simeon before that worthy left for Baxter City. But he did not reach the post office. The first interruption to his progress was one of his own two-card signs staring him in the face from a roadside tree. Alas, the ground glass which should have appeared in place of pancakes did duty beneath the single word EAT on another tree nearby.
Nor was this the worst. As Pee-wee penetrated deeper into the woods the more terrible was the masquerade of his own enticing signs. He stood looking at this awful sequel of his handiwork. Most of the cards were besmeared with mud and one or two in such a freakish way as to give a curious turn to their meaning. Pee-wee contemplated this exhibition with dismay. Wherever he looked, on fence or tree, some ridiculous sign stared him in the face.
He did not continue on to the post office but retraced his steps to the refreshment parlor which was the subject of these printed slanders. He and Pepsy were discussing this miscarriage of their exploitation design when a shuffling sound in the distance proclaimed the shambling approach of the advertising department. And if Pee-wee had not made good his flaunting boast to handle the six merry maidens he at least made amends and regained somewhat of his heroic tradition in his handling of Licorice Stick.
Do you know the way you put those cards up? From a vivid and terrifying narrative the partners made out that while Licorice Stick was on his way to embellish the wayside in strict accordance with instructions, he had encountered a spirit from the other world in the form of the carnival clown whom we have seen pass our wayside rest. The ghostly raiment of this lowly humorist and the motley decoration of his face had so frightened Licorice Stick that he had dropped his cards and retreated frantically into the woods.
When the awful apparition had passed he had stealthily shuffled back to the spot and with many furtive glances about him had gathered up the cards with trembling hands, and proceeded to post them in pairs without regard to their proper order.
After this triumphant exploitation feat which ought to commend him to every lying advertiser in the world Licorice Stick had shuffled into a new path of glory, going to the carnival, where not finding the sperrit in evidence he had accepted a position to stand behind a piece of canvas with his head in an opening and allow people to throw baseballs at him.
On hearing this Pee-wee desisted from any further criticism. If many people went to the carnival they must have approached it from the other direction. It was a small carnival and probably did not attract much interest outside of Berryville. A few stragglers passed Mr. Some were so unscrupulous as to bring their lunches with them. One reckless farmer, indeed, bought a doughnut and exchanged it for another with a smaller hole. Altogether the neighboring carnival did not bring much business to Pee-wee and Pepsy.
Aunt Jamsiah took their enterprise good-naturedly; Uncle Ebenezer said it was a good thing to keep the children out of mischief. So the pleasant summer days passed and brought them little business. Occasionally some lonely auto would crawl along the foliage-arched road, its driver looking for a place to turn around so that he might get back out of his mistaken way. Get your lemonade here! In her free hours she sat in their little shelter, her thin, freckly hands busy with the worsted masterpiece that she was working.
Pee-wee, at least, had his appetite to console him, but she had no relish for the stale lemonade and melting, oozy taffy which stood pathetically on the counter each night. She had learned something of scouting, that scouts camp and live in the open, and she had learned something of the good scout laws.
She was witnessing now an exhibition of scout faith and resolution, of faith that was hopeless and resolution that was futile. She was soon to be made aware of another scout quality which fairly staggered her and left her wondering. One night after dark, Pepsy and Pee-wee were sitting in their little roadside pavilion because they preferred it to the lamp-lighted kitchen smelling of kerosene where Uncle Ebenezer read the American Farm Journal , his arms spread on the red covered table.
A cheery little cricket chirped somewhere in this scene of impending failure; nearby a katydid was grinding out her old familiar song as if it were the latest popular air. In the barn across the yard the discordant sound of the horses kicking the echoing boards sounded clear in the still night and seemed a part of the homely music of the countryside. Suddenly a speeding auto, containing perhaps its load of merry, heedless joy riders, went rattling over the old bridge along the highway and the loose planks called out across the interval of woodland to the little red-headed girl in this remote shack along the obscure by-road.
Little did those speeding riders know of the voice they had called up to terrify this unknown child. The rattling, warning voice ceased as suddenly as it had begun as the unseen car rolled noiselessly along the smooth highway.
She was just about to go in when they were aroused by a sound in the distance. Pee-wee thought it was an auto and he made ready to deliver his usual verbal assault to the travelers. Louder and louder grew the sound and suddenly a motorcycle with no headlight went whizzing past in the darkness. It was followed by another, also without any headlight, but this second rider stopped a little distance beyond the shack and got off his machine.
Something, he knew not what, dissuaded Pee-wee from making his customary announcements and he stood in the darkness watching this second speeder who seemed to be delayed by some trouble with his machine. The traveler was certainly too hurried and preoccupied to think of doughnuts. Meanwhile, the first cyclist had covered perhaps fifty yards and was still going.
The little red tail-light of his machine shone brightly. Pee-wee was just wondering why these travelers used no headlights and whether the first cyclist would return to assist his friend, when he beheld something which caught and held his gaze in rapt concentration. The little red tail-light went out and on four times in quick succession. There followed an appreciable pause, then two quick flashes. Pee-wee watched the tiny light, spellbound.
It appeared for a couple of seconds, then flashed twice with lightning rapidity. Now, in such rapid succession that Pee-wee could hardly follow them, the flashes appeared, tinier as the cyclist sped further away. Presently the second cyclist was on his machine again, speeding through the darkness. Indeed, their flight must have been urgent to speed on such a road without headlights. The whole thing had a rather sinister look.
Pee-wee wondered who Kelly was and where his barn was located. So there , Mr. You wait till to-morrer night, Pep. They were accustomed to these outbursts of her tense little nature and said no more. Pepsy went up to her little room under the eaves, catching each breath and trembling.
No wonder they had not understood her at that big brick orphan home. No wonder she had hated it. Little as she was, she was too big for it. She was in a mood to torment herself that night and she lay awake to listen for that dread voice from across the woods.
She lay on her left side so they would have good luck next day. She was greatly overwrought and when at last she did hear the sound, loud and heartless with its sudden beginning and sudden end, it startled and terrorized her as if it were indeed that gloomy, windowless equipage of the State Orphan Home, coming to take her away. As for Pee-wee, his trouble was quite of another character.
The dubious outlook for their great enterprise did not submerge his buoyant spirit. He had been the genius of many colossal enterprises, most of them falling short of his glowing predictions, and his ingenious mind passed from one thing to another with no lingering regrets. He usually invested so much enthusiasm in organization that he had none left for maintenance.
He did not stick at anything long enough to be disappointed in it; there were too many other worlds to be conquered. His heart was no longer in the refreshment parlor and he was already finding solace in becoming his own solitary customer, by eating the taffy which he could not sell.
What concerned him now was this mystery of the speeding cyclists. That was the big thing in his young life. He believed them to be fugitives. Their reckless speed, and the fact that they used no headlights, gave color to this delightful supposition. Little had they thought that this diminutive scout, unseen in the darkness, had read that message in the Morse Code with perfect ease. What did that mean? If Pee-wee had liked Beriah Bungel, the Everdoze constable, he would have gone to him with this information.
But the next morning something happened which showed Scout Harris in a new light. Going to the post office early in the morning, he saw a sign posted on the bulletin board and he read it with lively interest. The machines are Indian models bearing license plates and Both machines are comparatively new.
This notice had evidently been brought down by the mail driver early in the morning and several distinguished citizens of Everdoze were gathered about commenting on it. It seemed certain that none of the Everdoze dozers had heard the motorcycles and surely no one in the village would have been any the wiser for seeing those quick, tiny flashes, which told so much to the scout. At this Darius Dragg and Nathaniel Knapp laughed uproariously. Constable Bungel saw but one way out of his rather embarrassing situation and that was the old approved device of a box on the ears.
Pee-wee faced him, his cheek flushed, his eyes blazing. With this rebuke, which left Beriah gaping, Pee-wee started home, holding a hand to his cheek. He was trying hard not to cry, not from pain, but from the indignity he had suffered. He had never known such a thing in all his life before. He felt shamed, humiliated.
His whole sturdy little form trembled at the thought of such degradation at the hands of a stranger Perhaps you will say that Pee-wee was not a good scout to speak with such impudent assurance to his elders. But you are to remember what I told you about Pee-wee, that everything about him was tremendous except his size.
He was not always the ideal scout in little things. He was a true scout in the big things. When he reached the shack he found Pepsy waiting for him and he poured forth his grievance into her sympathetic ears. Scouts have to know all about that. Only we have to go right away.
Do you want to go? If you do you have to hurry up. The last time that Pepsy had appeared before an official-of-the-law she had been sent to the big brick building and she was naturally wary of prosecutors, judges and such people. Suppose Mr. Sawyer should order herself and Pee-wee to the gallows for meddling in these dark, mysterious matters.
Pee-wee read this in her face. But Pee-wee was not to be deterred by sentiment and false hope. All we have to do is to go to Mr.
She had cautiously resolved, however, to remain close to the door of his office, so that she might effect a precipitate retreat at the first mention of an orphan asylum.
Whatever Pee-wee did must be right and she saw now that two hundred and fifty dollars won in the twinkling of an eye was better than life spent in the retail trade. Yet she could not help thinking wistfully and fondly of their little enterprise and its cosy headquarters.
Once in that Pepsy felt that her fate would be sealed. She had never been away from Everdoze since she had first been taken there. Baxter City was a vast place which she had seen in her dreams, a place where people were arrested and run over and where the constables were dressed up like soldiers.
This information about a little boy who was so pale that they called him Whitie, and who was going to die in a rainstorm on a Friday was all new to Pee-wee.
He never died, did he? There are doctors there that can fix people all well again. You have to stir it with a willow stick and then you get well quick. It would be better to make it with lightning-bugs.
Pee-wee did not answer; he appeared to be thinking. They know first aid, scouts do. This apparent desertion of another cherished enterprise all in the one day, took poor Pepsy quite by storm. But she followed his sturdy little form dutifully as he trudged up the road and into a certain lane. On he went, like a redoubtable conqueror with Pepsy after him. Pepsy stood behind him in a kind of daze and heard his resounding knock as in a dream.
Then suddenly to her dismay and terror she saw Beriah Bungel himself standing in the open doorway looking fiercely down at the little khaki-clad scout. Without another word he turned and trudged away along the path, Pepsy following after him, too astonished to speak. On that very morning Constable Bungel performed the stupendous feat which sent his name ringing through Borden County and established him definitely as the Sherlock Holmes of Everdoze.
Here, perceiving evidences of occupation, he demanded admittance and on being ignored he forced an entrance and courageously arrested two young fellows who were hiding there waiting for the night to come. It is painful to relate that in process of being captured one of these youthful fugitives delivered a devastating blow upon the long nose of the constable thereby unconsciously doing a good turn like a true scout and repaying him in kind for his treatment of Pee-wee.
The official pride of Beriah Bungel as he led his captives back to Everdoze to await transportation to Baxter City was somewhat chilled by the inglorious appearance of his face.
But Officer Bungel did not tell of the keen eyes and scout skill which had put him in the way of profit and glory. For he was like the whole race of Beriah Bungels the world over, officious, ignorant, contemptible, grafting, shaming human nature and making thieving fugitives look manly by comparison. Everdoze was greatly aroused by this epoch-making incident. But it was of no use.
I wish the school-house would burn down, hey? Murders and fires, those are the best, especially murders, because lots of people come.
There was one person in Everdoze, and only one, who neither followed nor witnessed this triumphal march, which had something of the nature of a pageant. This was a little lame boy, very pale, who sat in a wheel chair on the back porch of the lowly Bungel homestead. The house was up a secluded lane and did not command a view of the weeds and rocks of the main thoroughfare. This frail little boy, whose blue veins you could follow like a trail, had never seen or heard of Pee-wee Harris, scout of the first class if ever there was one and mascot of the Raven Patrol.
Thrown it away? Well, let us hope not. Let us hope that Licorice Stick had gotten things wrong as we have seen him do once before and that little Whitie Bungel did not die in a rainstorm on a Friday.
To translate some little red flashes of light and read a secret in them was utterly beyond the comprehension of poor Pepsy. Here was a miracle indeed, compared with which the prophecies and spooky adventures of Licorice Stick were as nothing. And to win two hundred and fifty dollars by such a supernatural feat was staggering to her simple mind. But deliberately to sacrifice this fabulous sum in the interest of a poor little invalid that he had never seen, made Pee-wee not only a prophet but a saint to poor Pepsy.
If scouts did things like this they were certainly extraordinary creatures. To give two hundred and fifty dollars to a person who has boxed your ears and then to go merrily upon your way in quest of new triumphs, that Pepsy could not understand. The whole business had transpired so quickly that Pepsy had only seen the two hundred and fifty dollars flying in the air, as it were, and now they were poor again, even before they had realized their riches.
And there was Pee-wee sitting on the counter of their unprofitable little roadside rest, with his knees drawn up, sucking a lemon stick which apparently no one else wanted and discoursing on the subject of good turns generally. There seemed to be nothing in his life now but the lemon stick. Pee-wee removed the lemon stick from his mouth, critically inspecting the sharp point which he had sucked it to. This action was followed by a sudden depression of both cheeks, like rubber balls from which the air has escaped.
He then removed the dagger-like lemon stick again to observe it. Pepsy seemed greatly impressed, and Pee-wee continued his edifying lecture. Do you see? Pee-wee performed this astounding feat for her edification, catching the liquid by-product with true scout agility. Whether from scout gallantry or scout appetite, he did not put Pepsy to the test.
Sawyer to be afraid of. Pepsy said nothing, only thought. And Pee-wee said nothing, only sucked the lemon stick, observing it from time to time, as its point became more deadly. You said if you make up your mind to do a thing you can do it. So do you promise to stay here and keep on being partners? Do you cross your heart you will? If Pee-wee had been as observant of Pepsy as he was used to being of signs along a trail he might have noticed that her eyes were all ablaze and that her little, thin, freckly wrist trembled.
But how should he know that his own carelessly uttered words had burned themselves into her very soul? Pepsy knew the scouts only through Pee-wee. She knew they could do things that girls could not do. She must have been deaf if she did not hear this.
She knew they walked with dauntless courage in great cities, and that they were not afraid of prosecutors. They were strange, wonderful things to her. They possessed all the manly arts and some of the womanly arts as well. They could track, swim, dive, read strange messages in flashes of light, sacrifice appalling riches and think nothing of it. They could cook, sew, imitate birds, and read things in the stars. Pee-wee had not left Pepsy in the dark about any of these matters.
Pepsy knew that she could not aspire to be a scout. The young propagandist had forgotten to tell her of the Girl Scouts who can do a few things, if you please. But one thing Pepsy could do; she could worship at the feet of his heroic legion.
If all there was to doing things was making up your mind to do them, then could she not do a good turn as well as a boy? Surely Scout Harris, the wonder worker, could not be mistaken about anything. He had shown Pepsy, conclusively, how good turns to say nothing of bad ones are always paid back by an inexorable law. Punches on the nose, or kindly acts of charity and sweet sacrifice, it was always the same Pepsy had no money invested in their unprofitable enterprise, for she had had no money to invest.
Neither had she any capital of scout experience to draw upon. But one little nest egg she had. She had once made a small deposit in this staunch institution of reciprocal kindness. All by herself, and long before she had known of Pee-wee and the scouts, she had done a good turn.
According to the inevitable rule, which she did not doubt, the principal and interest of this could now be drawn. Why not? Somewhere, and she knew where, there was a good turn standing to her credit.
It would be paid her just as surely as that splendid punch in the nose was paid to Beriah Bungel. And, using this good turn that was standing to her credit, she would be the instrument which fate would choose, to pay Scout Harris back for his great sacrifice of two hundred and fifty dollars. You see how nicely everything was going to work out. The person who would now do Pepsy the good turn which would bring success and fortune to their little enterprise and enable Scout Harris to buy three tents, was Mr.
Ira Jensen who lived in the big red house up the road. A very mighty man was Mr. Ira Jensen, almost as terrible in worldly grandeur and official power as a prosecutor. Not quite, but almost. At all events, Pepsy could muster up courage to go and face him, and that she was now resolved to do. Ira Jensen sometimes wore a white collar and he was deacon in the church and he was the one who selected the Everdoze school teacher, and he was president of the Borden County Agricultural Association and he had a khaki-colored swinging-seat on his porch and muslin curtains in his windows.
So you may judge from all this what a mighty man he was. Such a man is not to be approached except upon a well-considered plan. It required almost another week of idling in the refreshment parlor, of vain hopes, and ebbing interest on the part of the scout partner, to bring Pepsy to the state of desperation needed for her terrible enterprise. He had found an old magic lantern in the attic and that was enough.
The only stock now on hand was what might be called the permanent stock if any stock could be called permanent where Pee-wee was. No longer did the fresh, greasy doughnut and the cooling lemonade grace the forlorn little counter.
Percy Fitzhugh, Pee Wee Harris, First Edition - AbeBooks
FP now includes eBooks in its collection. Book Details. Pee-Wee witnesses an old sailor, now turned peddler, receive rough treatment from from a local policeman. Pee-Wee steps in and becomes involved with the man, Pop Rossey, and his grandson, Sammy. Pop and Sammy live on a condemned river barge. Pee-Wee, always up for an adventure, spends time on the barge as it drifts down the river. On the barge, he learns about the proud sailor and his desperate attempt to become a peddler to be able to support his grandson and keep them together.
Through a twist of fate, that barge fulfills one last purpose important to everyone involved. Limit the size to characters. However, note that many search engines truncate at a much shorter size, about characters.
Your suggestion will be processed as soon as possible. Percy Keese Fitzhugh was an American author. His first known work, The Goldenrod Story Book was published in The bulk of his work, having a Boy Scouting theme, revolves around the fictional town of Bridgeboro, New Jersey. Fitzhugh's Scouting based books were very popular with children and adults. His characters became so real to his readers that it was not uncommon for Percy to receive fan mail addressed to the characters themselves.
They were followed by another mystery series - Skippy Dare - 3 titles. Neither of these series achieved the popularity of his Scout work. Available Formats. This book is in the public domain in Canada, and is made available to you DRM-free. You may do whatever you like with this book, but mostly we hope you will read it. Here at FadedPage and our companion site Distributed Proofreaders Canada , we pride ourselves on producing the best ebooks you can find.
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Page Build Time: 0. Fitzhugh, Percy Keese. Salg, Bert. If you cannot open a.