After the meeting Westy and I and Mr. Ellsworth took him home, and just when we left him he asked us if maybe he’d live long enough to get the pathfinder’s badge. And oh, gee, it made me feel good the way Mr. Ellsworth answered him. He said,
“Well, I can’t exactly promise that because I don’t know how long it will take you to win that badge, but if you think you can win it inside of forty or fifty years, I think you’ll be there to grab it when it comes.” Oh, jingoes, but we’ve got one dandy scoutmaster. I don’t care what you say, he’s the best one in America. And when he said that, Skinny kind of smiled and then you could see how thin he was, because the wrinkles came all around his mouth.
Well, on Saturday Westy and Dorry Benton and Ralph Warner (they’re all in my patrol) went into the city to get Skinny’s outfit, so we could give him a surprise at the meeting on Monday night. I didn’t go because I wanted Westy to have the say, and I didn’t want him to think I was butting in, because Skinny belonged to him, as you might say. Besides I had to cut the grass so my sisters could play tennis with Johnny Wade—honest, that fellow is there all the time. He’s got a machine, but I never saw it. I guess maybe it’s a sewing machine, hey?
Now I didn’t know how much money Mr. Bennett gave Mr. Ellsworth. All I know is that when the fellows came back they had everything for Skinny, or most everything. Because they came up to Camp Solitaire (that’s the tent I have on our lawn) and we opened the whole business. Pee-wee was there and the first thing we knew he was shouting that there wasn’t any belt-axe.
“We used all the money we had,” Westy said, “and it isn’t worth while asking Mr. Bennett for any more, even if there’s one or two things missing.”
Oh, jiminy, Pee-wee went up in the air. “Why didn’t you get a belt-axe,” he shouted; “don’t you know a belt-axe is the most important thing of all? It’s the sign of the scout! It’s more important than the uniform.”
“He’d look nice going down Main Street with a belt-axe and no uniform,” I said; “you’re crazy on the subject of belt-axes. What’s the matter, are you afraid Hindenburg is going to invade Bridgeboro? You should worry about a belt-axe. Wait till he’s a tenderfoot.”