"Go ahead n' camp on it then," he said in sulky surrender; "and don't make a nuisance of yourselves writin' letters to the dredging company. Them men has got something else ter do besides bothering with a crew of crazy youngsters."
"But you know what you said about trespassing, Mr. Trimmer," said Townsend. "You have taught us that we shouldn't trespass and we thank you for the lesson. We'll have to drop Mr. Steam a line. How about a cruller, Mr. Trimmer? They were just stolen from our small friend's kitchen. Don't care for stolen fruit, hey? You're too particular, Mr. Trimmer."
Seldom has there been a surrender so complete and unconditional. There were no banners to celebrate the triumph (for which Pee-wee took all the credit) but as old Trimmer started up the river Pee-wee turned the sign so that the word GO faced the departing voyager like a commanding finger to order the vanquished from his victorious presence.
"Do you think he had some treasure in the scow?" Pee-wee asked. "Maybe if we dig we'll find some gold nuggets."
"Let's try some of those cocoanut nuggets," said Townsend.
"Didn't I know how to handle him?" said Pee-wee. "Now the island is ours, isn't it?"
"I think before we have supper," said Townsend, "we'll write a line to the dredging people. What do you say?"
"We'll write it on bark from the tree on account of our being wild and uncivilized," said Pee-wee. "I can make ink out of prune juice and we can write with a stick like hunters do when they get lost."
"Do they carry prune juice with them?" Billy asked.
"Sometimes they use blood," said Pee-wee. "I can make ink from onions too--invisible ink. Shall I make some?"
"I thought you were going to make a hunter's stew," said Brownie.
"Go ahead," said Roly Poly, "you make the hunter's stew--it won't be invisible, will it?"
"It will when we get through with it," said Billy.
"And while you're making the stew, Rip will write the letter and the first one of us that goes ashore will mail it."
The letter which Townsend Ripley wrote to the dredging company asking permission to use the old scow surmounted by a luxurious desert island was very funny, but it was not nearly as funny as the hunter's stew which Pee-wee made.
Their minds now free as to their rights (at least, for the time being) they sprawled about under the little tree as the afternoon sunlight waned and partook of the weird concoction which Pee-wee cooked in the dishpan over the rough fireplace which they had constructed. And if Pee-wee was not the equal of his friend Roy Blakeley in the matter of cooking, he was at least vastly superior to him in the matter of eating, and as he himself observed, "Gee whiz, eating is more important than cooking anyway."