Roy Blakeley's Bee-line Hike Part 25

She just stood there a few seconds, kind of trying to make up her mind.

"You think I'm afraid," she said.

"I _don't_ think you're afraid," I told her. Pee-wee started to speak and I told him to keep still. "But what's the good of taking a chance and getting your dress all torn?"

She just said, very stubborn like, "I want to go and I _do_ think you're mean if you don't let me. I'm a scout as much as you are. You think I'm a coward. Do you think I want to go back to the village and finish a tennis tournament after seeing the things you do?" She was almost crying. I knew if she started to cry we'd have to let her go.

I said, "You claim you're a good scout and I say you're as good a one as I ever saw. You saved a scout's life by doing a good turn and I guess that's enough. But the princ.i.p.al thing about scouting is to finish what you begin. That's why we're here. It doesn't make any difference whether it's a hike or a dinner or a--tournament or what. If you begin it you've got to finish it. If you're a quitter you're no scout. Maybe you like to risk your life and I know you don't risk your life playing tennis. But just the same that's _your_ bee-line hike for to-day."

"I _hate_ tennis," she said.

I said, "Yes, but you don't hate bee-line hikes and if you're supposed to be in a tournament to-day then that's your bee-line hike. And if you don't finish your hike you're a quitter. See?"

"I'm _not_ a quitter," she said.

"I know you're not," I told her. "So you're going back to finish the tournament and get some practice because to-morrow afternoon I'm coming over to Little Valley to beat you."

"_Playing tennis?_" she said.

"That's what," I told her.

"I can beat you with my left hand," she said.

"All right," I said, "I'm coming over to-morrow to find out. You go home and practice. You finish your bee-line hike and we'll finish ours and to-morrow afternoon at two o'clock----"

"Will you be sure to be there?" she said.

"Positively guaranteed," I told her. "Good-by."

"Why don't you say 'so long' like you do to boys?" she wanted to know.

"So long, see you later," I called.

She was awful funny, that girl.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII

FROGS AND HATS

One by one we let ourselves down that rope. The only hard part was keeping hold where it went over the edge of the slanting shelf. The cliff was sheer up and down just like Warde had said. But that was the end of our troubles with Nature. Gee whiz, I can get along with Nature all right, but when it comes to farmers--just you wait.

We were mighty glad to see Warde all safe and sound. I said, "Warde, you're the gamest scout that ever lived, but you're reckless. If we had stopped to think we would never have let you go down on that shelf."

He said, "I'm not a scout yet, remember."

"Remember nothing," I told him. "If you keep on, and live through it, I'll have an Eagle Scout in my patrol, I can see that."

"You're never killed till you're killed," Warde said.

"You have to thank that Daring girl," I said. And then we told him all about it.

"Don't ever give up, that's the thing," Dorry said.

"Do you know who you remind me of?" Pee-wee asked Warde. We were all sitting around on the rocks at the foot of the cliff, taking a rest.

"No, who?" Warde asked him.

"A frog," the kid said.

"A _frog_?" I asked him.

"Sure," he said; "a frog in a story."

"I'd be pleased to meet him," Warde said.

"There were two frogs," the kid said, "and they were out for a walk, and do you know how one of them didn't get killed?"

"Break it to us gently," I said.

"They fell into a bucket of cream," the kid said.

"Was it ice cream?" Hunt asked him.

"It was rich cream," the kid said.

"It was wealthy cream," I said; "go ahead."

"They started to drown," the kid said, "and one of them got discouraged and lost his nerve and didn't try to swim any more and he was drowned."

"Very sad," Westy said.

"The other one kept swimming and swimming and kicking and kicking," the kid said, "and do you know what happened?"

"Can't imagine," Warde said.

"Just by kicking and kicking," the kid said, "he churned some of that cream into b.u.t.ter and pretty soon he was standing all safe on a little island of b.u.t.ter. So that's what he got for not giving up."

"Did he tell you that himself?" I asked him.

"You make me tired," he shouted.

Westy said, "Well, this isn't getting us up the ridge, is it? What do you say we start?"

I said to the kid, "Are you sure that was real b.u.t.ter, or was it just b.u.t.terine? The Island of b.u.t.terine, discovered by a frog scout of the Pollywog Patrol."

"If we start jollying Pee-wee we'll never get up the ridge," one of the fellows said. So then we started.