Chapter XVII: Tears

Pee-wee had sticking in his belt an envelope which he had sealed and addressed to the Hoptoad Patrol. Being the only one in authority in that patrol he now opened it and read aloud the letter within it which he had likewise written himself. Its contents must have surprised him greatly for he scowled as he read the portentous words:

The cruiser Hop-toad will go to the other side of the lake
and we will get it into Goldenrod Cove so as it’s wedged in,
kind of. Then we’ll eat.

After that we’ll write a message with an onion and cast it
in the sea--that’s the same as the lake. That message will
tell them they can hike around the lake in sixty minutes and
we’ll charge them five cents each to cross our property and
I’ll be the treasurer and we’ll divide up even. If anybody
wants to back out he can say so now or he can stay till the
death.

“Are we going to get killed,” Willie Rivers asked anxiously.

“Staying till the death means till it’s all over,” Pee-wee explained. “Now I’ll tell you about those sealed orders, only usually nobody but the captains know about those. Last year Chocolate Drop, he’s cook and I stand in with him, last year he said every scout that could go scout pace around the lake in an hour could have three helpings of dessert for the rest of the season. But anyway nobody did it because on account of Goldenrod Cove; that’s an outlet of the lake.

“So now we’re going to sail into that cove and you’ll see how it is when we get there. It’s kind of like a cove only different. So now we have to do what it says in the sealed orders. And you’ll see how I’m going to win the pioneering badge too.”

“What are we going to write in the note that’s invisible?” little Howard Delekson ventured to ask.

“We’re going to tell them the way is clear for them to hike around in less than an hour if they want to.”

“Why don’t we send it right away so they’ll be sure to find it soon?” Willie asked.

“Because the bottle’s full of stuffed olives and we have to empty it first but anyway that reminds me that I’m hungry.”

“Can we help you empty it?” Howard asked tactfully.

“Sure you can,” said Pee-wee, fishing the bottle of olives up out of the keg; “I never knew I wanted some olives till you reminded me.”

The bottle was soon emptied, and now Pee-wee, kneeling at an old grocery box, stood his precious onion on it like an inkstand. Having next produced his scout note book and laid it solemnly upon the grocery box, he brought forth a deadly skewer which he had extracted from a ham in Cooking Shack, and with it stabbed the onion to the heart. Perhaps it was because their gallant bark was nearing the middle of the lake and the beloved camp receding in the distance, or perhaps it was from sheer joy at the great good turn he expected so soon to perform, but it is a fact that at the very moment he punctured the onion with his makeshift pen, his eyes filled with tears.

With the pensive tear-drops standing on his round cheeks and with eyes glistening from the sadness of parting, or from some other equally logical cause, he penned the following missive, stabbing the onion afresh for every tender word he wrote, and weeping so copiously that he could not have deciphered the writing even if it had been visible. These were the words, all unseen, which he penned with the magic onion juice:

The offer of three helpings all through the season is still
open and the cove is bridged and any feller can hike around
scout pace in less than an hour so now’s your chance.

Harris—hop-toad,
Ex-raven

He strained his eyes to read those memorable words which were to mean so much to him, and to all the scouts at camp. To say nothing of the camp commissary. But the spirit of the onion spoke not to those who did not know its secret. Not a sign of writing was there upon that virgin page.

Pee-wee rolled the missive, injected it into the bottle, and corked the bottle tight. He then produced a small limp article connected with a short stick. On blowing through the stick the limp attachment swelled to astounding dimensions as Pee-wee’s cheeks puffed more and more till they seemed like to burst. Now upon the inflated balloon appeared the words _Catskill Garage_ in conspicuous white letters.

The limit of Pee-wee’s blowing capacity having been reached, he jabbed the blow-stick into the onion to check the egress of air, when suddenly that humble vegetable, so modest that its very blood shunned the gaze of prying eyes, threw out a veritable spray in every direction like an electric sparkler, as the balloon grew smaller till it staggered, then collapsed, leaving the Hop-toad Patrol weeping and sneezing and groping frantically for their handkerchiefs, no doubt as flags of truce.

“I--eh--eh--chhh--ew--chh--I--llchew--try it--again.”