Pee-Wee Harris on the Trail   By: Percy Keese Fitzhugh (1876-1950)

PEE WEE HARRIS ON THE TRAIL

BY PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH

Author of

THE TOM SLADE BOOKS, THE ROY BLAKELEY BOOKS THE PEE WEE HARRIS BOOKS

ILLUSTRATED BY H. S BARBOUR

Published with the approval of THE BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA

GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS :: NEW YORK

Made in the United States of America

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I THE LONE FIGURE 1 II A PATHETIC SIGHT 5 III THREE GOOD TURNS 9 IV THE FIVE REELER 15 V R R R ROBBERS! 20 VI A MESSAGE IN THE DARK 24 VII LOCKED DOORS 28 VIII A DISCOVERY 32 IX THE TENTH CASE 36 X A RACE WITH DEATH 41 XI A RURAL PARADISE 45 XII ENTER THE GENUINE ARTICLE 48 XIII A FRIEND IN NEED 56 XIV SAVED! 61 XV IN CAMP 65 XVI FOOTPRINTS 74 XVII ACTION 80 XVIII THE MESSAGE 84 XIX PAGE TWO HUNDRED AND EIGHTY FOUR 88 XX STOP! 92 XXI SEEIN' THINGS 97 XXII HARK! THE CONQUERING HERO COMES 104 XXIII PETER FINDS A WAY 109 XXIV DESERTED 114 XXV BEDLAM 122 XXVI THE CULPRIT AT THE BAR 128 XXVII SOME NOISE 134 XXVIII ON THE TRAIL 138 XXIX VOICES 142 XXX FACE TO FACE 146 XXXI ALONE 154 XXXII ON TO BRIDGEBORO 159 XXXIII HARK! THE CONQUERING HERO COMES BACK 165 XXXIV PEE WEE HOLDS FORTH 169 XXXV SCOUTMASTER NED DOESN'T SEE 174 XXXVI MORE HARDLING 180 XXXVII HINTS 185 XXXVIII THE FIXER 192 XXXIX BETRAYED! 197 XL GUESS AGAIN 206

ILLUSTRATIONS PAGE

"WHO WHO ARE YOU?" PEE WEE STAMMERED Frontispiece HANDWRITTEN NOTE 27 "The road is closed," said Peter. 109 PEE WEE BEFORE THE JUSTICE OF THE PEACE. 130 "WE'RE NOT MINERS, WE'RE SCOUTS!" PEE WEE SHOUTED. 202

PEE WEE HARRIS ON THE TRAIL

CHAPTER I

THE LONE FIGURE

The night was bleak and cold. All through the melancholy, cheerless day, the first chill of autumn had been in the air. Toward evening the clouds had parted, showing a steel colored sky in which the sun went down a great red ball, tinting the foliage across the river with a glow of crimson. A sun full of rich light but no heat.

The air was heavy with the pungent fragrance of burning leaves. The gutters along Main Street were full of these fluttering, red memorials of the good old summer time.

But there were other signs that the melancholy days had come. Down at the Bridgeboro station was a congestion of trunks and other luggage bespeaking the end of the merry play season. And saddest of all, the windows of the stationery stores were filled with pencil boxes and blank books and other horrible reminders of the opening of school.

Look where one would, these signs confronted the boys of Bridgeboro, and there was no escaping them. Even the hardware store had straps and tin lunch boxes now filling its windows, the same window where fishing rods and canoe paddles had lately been displayed.