“Come on back, you don’t have to be scared any more,” the kid shouted.

“Some hero,” I said.

“He’s a regular women and children first scout,” Hervey said.

“Oh, they come before that with him,” said Warde.

“He charmed them with fire,” Brent said.

“They’re afraid of flame,” the kid said, very proud. “That’s something scouts are supposed to know about. They’re supposed to know how to do more than just talk.”

“The pleasure is ours,” I said. “You lose and we win as you usually do if not oftener. Actions are better than words.”

By that time the two girls were coming back, very slow and careful-like.

“Are you sure it’s all right?” Marjorie asked us.

“Positively guaranteed,” I said. “Sir Harris drove them before him. He’s the only original boy scout shiveller. He shivelled them in with a shovel of fire. He’s the pied piper of Temple Camp, named after a mince pie. Behold the land is freed from wasps!”

The girls came back ever so careful. “Are you sure there are none around?” they asked us. I guess they thought they could protect each other from wasps by hanging onto each other.

Brent said, “We can now pick things up and proceed with the jelly cones.”

“Are you sure they can’t get out?” Stella Wingate wanted to know. They were getting a little easier in their minds, I could see that. “You are all too silly for anything,” she said. “Pee-wee acted while you talked. And I believe that you, Mr. Hervey, or whatever they call you, would have been just headstrong enough to knock it down. I suppose that’s what you would have called one of your feats.”

I said, “Sure, he’s very headstrong with his feet. How about the eats that you were going to cook when we were rudely interrupted by the flying corps?”

“I am going to make as many jelly cones as Pee-wee can eat, so there,” said Marjorie. “Because he’s the hero of the day.”

“He’s the hero of every day,” Brent said, “and the nights as well. Wait till you see him annihilate the jelly cones.”

Marjorie said, “Well, he’s going to have the chance because he deserves it. But are you sure the wasps can’t get out?” she asked us.

“Not as long as that plug stays in,” Pee-wee said. “But if anybody took it out——”

“Good gracious!” Marjorie said.

“We wouldn’t touch it,” Stella put in, just shuddering.

“Then they’d come out good and mad,” Pee-wee said. “They’d be mad because I circumvented them. See? But as long as it stays in there they’re foiled.”

“Just the same as if it were sealed with tinfoil,” I told her.

“Do you all promise not to touch it?” Stella asked us.

“Because I won’t be responsible for what they do, they’re all crazy,” Pee-wee said.

“They’ve got to promise,” Marjorie said. “Do you promise, Mr. Hervey Headstrong?” she asked.

“Why pick on me?” Hervey asked her, all the while lying on his back with his hands behind his head, kind of careless like.

She said, “Because you have a look in your eye. I just feel you’re going to do something tragic. I can just feel it in my bones. Girls are good at reading characters. I know your type.”

“Make Roy Blakeley promise,” Pee-wee said, all the while strutting around very important, sort of, “because he’s the worst of the lot.”

Marjorie Eaton said, “Mr. Tall Boy with the spectacles, will you give your solemn word of honor——”

“As a scout,” Pee-wee shouted.

“As a scout,” Marjorie said, “will you give your solemn word of honor and cross your heart and hope to die that none of these boys will touch that wasps’ nest—will you?”

“Why pick on me?” Brent said.

“Because you have spectacles and I feel that you’re honorable—I just feel it,” she said. “Will you promise for all of them including Willis, or whatever that crazy boy’s name is who lies on his back, will you promise that not a single, solitary one of you will touch that wasps’ nest? Because I won’t make a single jelly cone till you do.”

“Make him raise up his hand in the scout salute and promise,” said Pee-wee. “Because I know that bunch; I’ve been out with them before.”

Brent said, “Will you girls promise to make as many jelly rolls as we can eat in half an hour?”

She said, “Why, of course we will, we’ve got oceans of flour.”

“Then we agree,” he said. “On behalf of the Boy Scouts of Temple Camp we pledge ourselves one and all separately and collectively——”

“And unanimously,” Pee-wee shouted. “Make ’em do it unanimously.”

“And conclusively and finally,” Brent said, “and thoroughly and left-handedly.”

“No, not left-handedly,” Pee-wee shouted. “I had enough of that.”

“We promise,” Brent said. “No scout hand shall touch that wasps’ nest. It shall remain as it is, a monument to the resourcefulness and heroism of P. Harris.”

“Now will you start to cook the jelly cones?” Pee-wee wanted to know. “Because, gee whiz, I’ve heard so much about them, and anyway I’m good and hungry, so will you start making them—pretty soon?”

Brent said, very calm like, “I have no intention of touching yonder nest. I would not tamper with the handiwork of Scout Harris. I have but one thought now and that is to see him circumvent jelly cones as he circumvented wasps. But just for information I would like to inquire—perhaps you girls would be willing to step a little closer—I was wondering what that tin thing is that our hero used to plug up the hole.”

“Oh, it’s the thing we make the cones with!” cried Stella Wingate. “Look, Marjorie, see what he did! He put the cone maker into the wasps’ nest! How in the world are we ever going to make jelly cones now?”

“Ask P. Harris,” Hervey said; “a scout is resourceful.”