But things didn’t come out even; the salmon used up the rice and there was some salmon left over. “I tell you what let’s do,” said Pee-wee. “Let’s open a box of sugar wafers so as to use up the salmon, hey?” “All right,” assented Townsend. But still things didn’t come out right. The sugar wafers put an end to the salmon but there were still quite a few sugar wafers, and it was necessary to open a jar of peanut butter to put the sugar wafers out of business, which left them with a jar half full of peanut butter. A detachment of Holland rusks was therefore called up to eliminate the peanut butter. The Holland rusks tasted pretty good with peanut butter on them, but without peanut butter they were dry. “I don’t like them without anything on them, do you?” Pee-wee asked, feeling his way to the next step. “No, I don’t,” said Townsend; “they have about as much flavor as a whisk-broom, but did you ever hear the story about the man with one leg shorter than the other one? They sawed his right leg off to make it even with his left one and they sawed it too short. So then they had to saw his left one off to make it even with his right one. And they sawed off a little too much so—” “That’s a dandy argument,” shouted Pee-wee; “I tell you what let’s do. We’ll throw the rusks away so the birds can get them and then start even with two things.” “If we throw the rusks away we _will_ be even,” said Townsend. “Otherwise we’ll be like the man who ended by not having any legs.” “That didn’t stop him from eating though,” said Pee-wee. “Well, I’m going to stop _you_ from eating,” Townsend observed. “What do you suppose would happen to you if they sawed off your appetite?” “It would grow again,” said Pee-wee. “Well,” laughed Townsend, “I’m going to saw off some sleep.” “That’s another thing I like to do,” said Pee-wee. “Sleep?” “Yop.” “How do you know you like to? How do you like to do a thing when you don’t know you’re doing it? You can’t enjoy being asleep because you’re asleep when you’re asleep. In order to enjoy being asleep you have to be awake, and then you’re not asleep.” He tousled Pee-wee’s curly hair by way of capping the argument. “So there you are, it can’t be did.” “Do you call that logic?” Pee-wee roared. “Don’t you suppose I enjoy doing lots of things when I don’t know what I’m doing?” “Oh, undoubtedly,” Townsend laughed. “Su—u—ure I do,” Pee-wee said, conclusively. “You can’t prove anything by my not knowing what I’m doing because, gee whiz, then you’d have to say I never have any fun, and nobody can say that. I didn’t know what I was doing when I started the relay race, did I? Let’s hear you answer that.” “I can’t answer that,” said Townsend; “the relay race is your business. But I’m mighty sorry you’re not going to be in the patrol cabin with us, Kid; you see, the fellows in our patrol are new at Temple Camp.”