e nobody ever came and it got stale and I ate too much of it,
that's what she said. So now, anyway, we're going to start in again
because the business world--and we're--we're going to speed up
production."

"All right, speed up the auto and good luck to you," the scout with the
bronze cross said. He seemed to be a patrol leader.

There was a little fraternal chat before this boisterous troop moved on
and all seemed interested in Pee-wee and his enterprise. They were on
their way to camp somewhere down the line. "You'll succeed all right,"
they called back to him, "only be sure to have plenty of stuff on hand
when we come back in a couple of weeks or we'll kill you."

"Do you like waffles and honey?" the proprietor shouted after them.

"We've got the bees working overtime for us," a scout called back.

"I'll have a lot of those--ten cents each," Pee-wee announced. "Do you
like clam chowder?" he called, raising his voice to cover the increasing
distance.

"Don't you make us hungry," one called back.

"Good luck to you, you'll make it a go all right."

"I'm lucky, I always have good luck," the small optimist screamed at the
top of his voice. "Do you like peanut taffy? Do you like hot corn,"
he added, fairly yelling this sudden inspiration after the departing
sufferers; "with butter and pepper on it; do you like that? I'll have
some!"

These were the last words they heard as the big car moved slowly over
the rocky, grass-grown road. They are good words to end a chapter
with--hot corn with pepper and butter on it. ...

Oh, boy!

CHAPTER XXX

PAID IN FULL

Pee-wee was just about to make a frantic rush to the house when he
saw another automobile coming along the road, brushing the projecting
foliage aside as some stealthily advancing creature might do. Not far
behind it he could hear other ears grinding along that impossible road
in second gear.

The world seemed to be making a pathway, of rather a highway, to
Pee-wee's door. The sequestered, overgrown road, with its intertwined
and overarching boughs, was become a surging thoroughfare. The birds,
formally unmolested in their wonted haunts, complained to one another of
this sudden intrusion into their domains. Away back where this obscure
road branched off the highway to furnish the unfrequented access to
Everdoze and Berryville, a sign had been placed that morning with an
arrow pointing toward the depths of the Everdoze jung