“Don’t you care,” said Pee-wee. “I’ll see you a lot. Gee whiz, when I’m at Temple Camp I’m all over. That’s why they call me a scout at large, only that doesn’t mean that I’m large.” “No, I understand,” said Townsend; “but you’re a pretty big scout at that.” The intention of turning in for the night seemed to have passed for the time being and Townsend idly threw some more sticks on the fire and sat gazing into it, his hands clasped about his knees. He looked ruminatively across the mounting blaze at the small scout who sat opposite him, and as he looked, he smiled amusedly, yet kindly. “I—I bet you like your flivver better than any other friend you’ve got,” said Pee-wee. “I bet I don’t,” said Townsend, with a kind of enigmatic smile. “So you lose.” “Anyway, I bet you like it ’cause it’s kind of old and sort of ramshackle, I bet you do.” “Maybe,” said Townsend. “Gee whiz, anyway I like you better than any friend I’ve got except Roy Blakeley, and he’s kind of more like an enemy only we’re good friends.” Townsend laughed outright. “We’re going to have a great patrol, Kiddo,” was all he said. “_Sure_, we are, and I’m glad you’re the leader of it. I bet if you met a big feller your own size you’d like him better than me, wouldn’t you? Because I knew lots of fellers that were friends with me till they got to know fellers their own size.” “Yes?” “Sure, I did. But anyway I have lots of fun. Gee whiz, I wouldn’t blame you.” “No? Well, how about the little Ford? You say you think I like that.” “Better than a—a—an eight-cylinder Packard?” “You said it.” “Does that mean maybe you might like me better than a big feller?” “Didn’t I just tell you you’re one of the biggest fellows I ever met?” “I can’t be big if I’m small; do you call that logic?” Townsend didn’t answer, but just sat there with his hands clasped about his drawn-up knees, smiling, oh such an amused and friendly smile across the fire. “Hear that cricket?” said Pee-wee. “Huh-huh,” said Townsend. “Gee, you’re funny; I don’t understand you at all,” said Pee-wee. “I never know what you really mean.” “No?” Then, perhaps by way of conveying what he meant, Townsend arose, stretched himself, and as he lowered one of his upraised arms, gave Pee-wee’s hair a good tousling and pushed him right over backwards. “Time to turn in, Kid,” said he. CHAPTER XII IN CAMP When they awoke in the morning they heard the steady patter of rain on their little shelter. The downpour, broken by the friendly trees, fell gently on the tent, but looking out they could see that the rain was coming down in torrents. The sky was dull and cheerless. “Rain before seven, clear before eleven,” said Pee-wee.