I said, "If you think we're mean, we'll say yes, you can go with us. Because we owe you a lot, that's sure. I'd rather give up the whole thing than be mean about it. And I think you're just as good at doing things as we are. But we wouldn't do this ourselves if we weren't already in for it. Our clothes are all torn already from going over roofs and climbing on those ferris-wheel cars, and you'll only get your dress all torn and what's the use?" She just stood there a few seconds, kind of trying to make up her mind. "You think I'm afraid," she said. "I _don't_ think you're afraid," I told her. Pee-wee started to speak and I told him to keep still. "But what's the good of taking a chance and getting your dress all torn?" She just said, very stubborn like, "I want to go and I _do_ think you're mean if you don't let me. I'm a scout as much as you are. You think I'm a coward. Do you think I want to go back to the village and finish a tennis tournament after seeing the things you do?" She was almost crying. I knew if she started to cry we'd have to let her go. I said, "You claim you're a good scout and I say you're as good a one as I ever saw. You saved a scout's life by doing a good turn and I guess that's enough. But the principal thing about scouting is to finish what you begin. That's why we're here. It doesn't make any difference whether it's a hike or a dinner or a--tournament or what. If you begin it you've got to finish it. If you're a quitter you're no scout. Maybe you like to risk your life and I know you don't risk your life playing tennis. But just the same that's _your_ bee-line hike for to-day." "I _hate_ tennis," she said. I said, "Yes, but you don't hate bee-line hikes and if you're supposed to be in a tournament to-day then that's your bee-line hike. And if you don't finish your hike you're a quitter. See?" "I'm _not_ a quitter," she said. "I know you're not," I told her. "So you're going back to finish the tournament and get some practice because to-morrow afternoon I'm coming over to Little Valley to beat you." "_Playing tennis?_" she said. "That's what," I told her. "I can beat you with my left hand," she said. "All right," I said, "I'm coming over to-morrow to find out. You go home and practice. You finish your bee-line hike and we'll finish ours and to-morrow afternoon at two o'clock----" "Will you be sure to be there?" she said. "Positively guaranteed," I told her. "Good-by." "Why don't you say 'so long' like you do to boys?" she wanted to know. "So long, see you later," I called. She was awful funny, that girl. CHAPTER XXXIII FROGS AND HATS One by one we let ourselves down that rope. The only hard part was keeping hold where it went over the edge of the slanting shelf. The cliff was sheer up and down just like Warde had said. But that was the end of our troubles with Nature. Gee whiz, I can get along with Nature all right, but when it comes to farmers--just you wait.