Pee-wee and Townsend watched the inspectors push the gate up as far as they could, which was at an angle of about forty-five degrees, and there it stayed. There is no doubt at all that Townsend was apprehensive. As for Pee-wee, he looked down like a true knight from his tower, severe, fearless, frowning. The Italian woman made some concession to the tense situation by craning her neck. The goat preserved a calm and innocent demeanor. “You kids want to look out how you play with crossing gates,” Inspector Ketchum said; “you want to keep your hands off such things. You’d better come down out of there,” he added, addressing Pee-wee. “You’re so smart, let’s hear you tell me how?” shouted our young hero. “What’s the matter with your face?” the inspector asked. “I made ointment and put on it on account of getting stung by wasps,” said Pee-wee. “I foiled a lot of them.” “Who’s driving that car?” the other inspector demanded. “Nobody’s driving it just now,” said Townsend. “I _was_ driving it.” “Oh, you were, were you?” “Yes, he was, was he,” shouted Pee-wee from his place of safety. “And he can make it sing, too, and say good-bye and everything, and we’re going to camp in it.” “Is—_that_—so?” said Inspector Ketchum. “Youse kids is driving it, huh?” “Only we’re out of gas,” Pee-wee shouted. “You seem to have plenty of hot air,” said Inspector Snagg. “Which one of youse is drivin’? Youse must think the public highways is a slaughter-house.” “I was driving,” said Townsend. “Yere?” said Inspector Snagg sarcastically. “How old are you?” “He’s seventeen and he’s a patrol leader,” Pee-wee volunteered. “I’m seventeen,” said Townsend. “Yere? Got a special, I suppose?” “Oh, yes,” said Townsend, extremely apprehensive; for it was perfectly apparent that the inspector was speaking in irony and did not believe him. “Let’s take a look,” said Inspector Snagg, holding out his hand in ironical encouragement. “I—I—eh—” “Oh, you haven’t got it, huh?” “What do you want to see it for?” Pee-wee shouted. “It looks just the same as all the rest of them, they all look alike. It’s just like all the rest of them you saw up the road. What’s the use of looking at it when one’s just like another? Gee whiz, do you call that having sense?” To this clever argument the inspectors made no reply. Probably they felt that it was unanswerable. But Inspector Snagg continued to hold out his hand to Townsend in an insolently patient and skeptical way. “Come on, Kid,” he said. “I just lost my license card,” said Townsend; “it was eaten by that goat.” “_Yere_, is _that so_?” “Sure it’s so,” screamed Pee-wee, “that shows how much you know about scouts if you think they lie, because I can prove he ate it because he ate eleven dollars, too, and a time-table, you can ask that woman—so now!”