When we got back from delivering the papers, Mr. Tarkin said he had a good idea but that he was afraid that maybe we wouldn't like it. He said, "Do boy scouts believe in advertising? What is your opinion of sandwiches?"

I said, "We eat 'em alive. Do you want us to advertise some new kind of ham?"

"No, sir," he said; "I'm going to suggest a plan for advertising your movie show. Something striking."

Then he began laughing and he brought out a couple of big placards about as big as window-panes. They had fresh printing on them, all in great, big letters, and this is what they said:

He said, "Now this is a sandwich."

Pee-wee just stood there gaping at it and I said to him, "What's the matter? Do you want to eat it?"

The two big placards were tied together at the top with a rope and Mr. Tarkin slipped them over Pee-wee so that one covered the front of him and the other covered his back. You couldn't see anything but his head and his feet. Mr. Tarkin began laughing and the fellows all screamed.

"Now you're a sandwich man," Mr. Tarkin said; "you're the inside part."

"You're a hunk of cheese," I said.

"You're a sardine," Connie shouted.

Oh, boy, you should have seen Pee-wee! He just stood there looking all around him, his head sticking up from between those two big placards, while the rest of us danced around him, just hooting. Crinkums! It was the funniest thing I ever saw. Even Mr. Tarkin was laughing so hard he could hardly speak.

"Walk over to the window and back again," he said.

Honest, I can't tell you about it. I just sat on the counter and screamed. Westy had his arms folded and he was just doubled up, laughing. Pee-wee strutted around and you couldn't see any part of him, except just his head. It was as good as a circus.

"Smile and look pretty," I said.

"Our young hero," Connie giggled.

"Let's see you go scout pace," Wig said.

"Advancing stealthily," I said; "our young hero charged upon the hooting multitude and——"

"Look at him turn around," Wig laughed; "look at him try to read it. Oh, save me!"

Pee-wee was swinging around like a sailing ship in the wind and craning his neck and trying to read the printing. All of a sudden he lifted the whole thing off.

"Do you think I'd wear that thing?" he yelled. "What do you think I am?"

"If you'd just stroll up and down Main Street with that," Mr. Tarkin said; "it would attract attention——"

"G—o—o—d night! You said it!" I just blurted out.

"I wouldn't do it!" Pee-wee shouted "Do you think I'm a dunce? Do you think I'm going to march up and down Main Street with that thing on, like a—like a scarecrow—with all you fellows laughing at me?"

"You look too sweet for anything," Westy told him.

"You think you're so smart," Pee-wee shot back; "why don't you do it?"

"I'm too big," Westy said; "Connie's the best looking; let him do it."

Connie said, "After you; sandwiches always disagreed with me."

"You make me tired," Pee-wee yelled; "I've seen you eat a dozen!"

"Let Roy do it," Connie said.

"I'd be tickled to death," I told him, "only I'm patrol leader and I have to be dignified."

"Well, you won't catch me doing it," Pee-wee shouted.

"Same here," Connie said.

"You all make me tired," I told them; "afraid of being laughed at!"

Just then Mr. Tarkin asked me to carry a bundle of paper into the printing shop in the back of the office, and as soon as I got in there I saw about a dozen or so of those placards in a big waste paper box. I asked the printing man why he had printed so many, and he said they were only proofs or kind of samples that he made while he was trying to print a good one.

"Oh, boy," I said to myself; "I'll fix that bunch."

So I went out into the office and I said, "I suppose all you crazy Indians claim to be good sports. Maybe some of you know how to be good losers. Suppose we draw lots and see who goes up and down Main Street as a sandwich man. I'll make five slips of paper and the one who draws the one with number three on it will have to go out. What do you say?"

First nobody was willing, because each fellow said that if he went out, all the other fellows would laugh at him.

"You should worry," I said; "I'll fix it so nobody laughs at anybody else—positively guaranteed."

"How can you be sure?" Pee-wee wanted to know.

"You leave it to me," I told him; "nobody will have anything on anybody else. Absolutely, positively guaranteed. If not satisfied bring your sandwich in and get it exchanged for a hunk of pie."

So then I tore five slips of paper and I put a three on every one of them. I knew how to handle that bunch.

"I'll draw first," Pee-wee shouted.

Good night, you should have seen that kid when he drew number three! All the fellows began kidding him and saying he was unlucky. Then came Connie, and he drew three, and then Wig and, oh, boy, I just can't tell you about it. Each fellow stood there staring at his little slip and I drew the last one.

"There you are," I said; "we're all stung and everybody's got the laugh on everybody else. So what's the use of laughing at all? That's logic."

"Sure it is," Pee-wee yelled; "how can anybody laugh at anybody when everybody is laughing at everybody else?"

"It can't be did," Connie said. "We're all stung, Roy too."

"You can't laugh at anybody," Pee-wee piped up, all the while hoisting those big placards up over his head, "unless the person you laugh at has got something about him that you can laugh at that nobody else has about him that anybody else can laugh at——"

"You're talking in chunks," Westy said.

"If everybody gets a prize then it isn't a prize, is it?" Pee-wee screamed.

"Sure, you can do that by long division," I told him. "Come on and let's start the parade."