d."

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.

"Licorice Stick is crazy," he said. "What does he know about dying? He
never died, did he?" This brilliant argument appeared to impress Pepsy.

"If they took him to a hospital in New York then he wouldn't have to die
because they could fix him," Pepsy said. "I heard Aunt Jamsiah say so.
There are doctors there that can' fix people all well again."

"I bet I'm as good a fixer as they are," Pee-wee said; "I fixed lots of
people; I fixed a whole patrol once."

"So they wouldn't die?"

"They thought they were smart but I fixed them."

"Fixing smarties is different," said Pepsy. "If people have something
the matter with their hips you can't fix them. Because, anyway, if
they're going to die on a Friday even snail water won't fix them."

"Snail water, what's that?"

"It's medicine made from snails; Licorice Stick knows how to make it.
You have to stir it with a willow stick and then you get well quick."

"How can you get well quick when snails are slow?" Pee-wee asked. "That
shows that Licorice Stick is crazy. It would be better to make it with
lightning-bugs."

"Lightning-bugs mean there are ghosts around," said Pepsy, "the
lightning-bugs are their eyes. But anyway, just the same, nobody can
fix Whitie Bungel, because the doctor from Baxter said so, and he knows
because he's got an automobile."

"Automobiles don't prove you know a lot," said Pee-wee.

"Just the same Whitie is going to die," said Pepsy, "and then you'll
see, because when my mother didn't have any money she died, so there."
Pee-wee did not answer; he appeared to be thinking. And so the minutes
passed as they sat there on the rock by the roadside, waiting for the
mailman's auto to take them to Baxter City.

"Do you say I can't fix it?" he finally demanded. "Maybe you think
scouts can't fix things. They know first aid, scouts do. I can fix that
little feller; maybe you think I can't. You come with me, I'll show
you. Scouts--scouts can do things--they're better than snails and
lightning-bugs. I'll show you what they can do; you come with me."

"Ain't you going to wait for the mailman?"

"No, I'm not. You come with me."

This apparent desertion of another cherished enterprise all in the one
day, took poor Pepsy quite by storm. She did not understand the workings
of Pee-wee's active