"The men--Mr. Ferrett--they know better than we do, Kid. Blythe is the one whose picture--" "You say yes or no," Pee-wee demanded in a voice of thunder. "They lifted him off where you were caught and so now you're alive and you can _speak_. Is he a murderer or isn't he?" Roy was going to pieces. The little scout whom he had always found it so easy to jolly, towered over him. The tiny Raven was become a giant. "I--no he--_no he isn't_--he isn't, Kid," Roy stammered. Without another word Pee-wee hooked his duffel bag to the end of his scout staff, after the fashion of a Swiss peasant, and carrying the staff over his shoulder, marched on ahead like a conquering hero, as if he preferred not to be seen hiking with such people.... CHAPTER XXVIII HOME SWEET HOME The sturdy little scout did not long walk alone. Roy, visibly affected, limped ahead, rapped him on the shoulder without saying a word, and hobbled along at his side. And presently Warde Hollister, quiet, thoughtful, and always somewhat a puzzle to the other scouts, joined them. "I'm with you, Kiddo," he said. Pee-wee did not appear to care who was with him and who was not. His own stout little scout heart was with him, and that was enough. And so these three who had taken the hike to Woodcliff, and discovered the tell-tale notice, and mailed the formidable envelope to somebody or other, they knew not whom, trudged along together now, and the resolute, loyal, unreasoning spirit of Pee-wee Harris was like a contagion, giving the others hope where indeed there seemed no hope, and diffusing something like cheer. And noticing them, Westy said to Vic Norris of the Elks, "He's a funny fellow, Warde; it always seems as if he thinks more than he speaks." "He never speaks till he's sure," Vic said. The late afternoon sun was glinting up the river and bathing the patched roof of their old ramshackle railroad car in flickering tints of gold, as they made their way across the field to their quaint headquarters down by the shore in Bridgeboro. The tide was full, the unsightly mud banks hidden; it seemed as if their beloved familiar river had donned its best array to meet them. It rippled against the grassy shore in a kind of song of welcome. The birds were busy in the neighboring willow tree, and a fish flopped out of the glittering water as if to remind them that some of the pleasures of vacation time were left to them. "Hello, old car!" said El Sawyer of the Ravens, as he tossed the duffel bag through a broken window. "I hope we have enough in the treasury to get that window put in." "We should worry," said Roy. "There's a lot of fun not having any money," said Pee-wee. "We ought to have plenty of fun then," said Westy. "This old car has got the County Poorhouse turning green with envy." "They have a lot of fun in the poorhouse, they whittle things with sticks," Pee-wee said. "If you always have fun no matter what, that shows you're an optomotrist."