Brent said, very calm like, “I have no intention of touching yonder nest. I would not tamper with the handiwork of Scout Harris. I have but one thought now and that is to see him circumvent jelly cones as he circumvented wasps. But just for information I would like to inquire—perhaps you girls would be willing to step a little closer—I was wondering what that tin thing is that our hero used to plug up the hole.” “_Oh, it’s the thing we make the cones with!_” cried Stella Wingate. “Look, Marjorie, _see what he did_! He put the cone maker into the wasps’ nest! How in the world are we ever going to make jelly cones now?” “Ask P. Harris,” Hervey said; “a scout is resourceful.” CHAPTER XV STUNG I said, “Excuse me while I fall in a faint.” I just fell on the ground and buried my face in my hands. The next thing I knew Warde was lying beside me suffering from shock. I said, “The fixer has fixed it.” Pee-wee just stood staring. “You make me tired,” he shouted. “Do you mean to say I can’t take that out——” “Oh, absolutely, positively not,” I said; “a scout’s honor——” “It’s just a what d’you call it—a teckinality,” he shouted. “If they have to have that thing——” “Oh, we _don’t_, we _don’t_!” the girls began crying. “Don’t touch it whatever you do! Remember your promise! Don’t go near it!” I jumped up and I said, “Girls, a scout’s honor is to be trusted. The deed is did. The jelly cone maker stays in the wasps’ nest. Who cares for jelly cones? Our honor is the only thing that counts. You can depend on us, girls. We are boy scouts. The fixer has fixed it, and it will stay fixed.” “Is the little tin cone very necessary?” Brent asked them. Marjorie said, “Oh, yes; you see we wrap the pie crust around it, that makes it into a cone shape, you know. Then we push it off carefully and stand it in a pan, a hot pan——” “Mmm, yum, yum,” I said. “And leave it in the oven till it’s nice and hard and crisp,” Marjorie said. “Then we fill them with jam; they’re perfectly delicious. Of course, we make a lot of them and stand them up in the pan and let them crisp all at once. They really ought to be left in till they’re brown. Oh, I’m so sorry you can’t try them. Isn’t it exasperating? When you see them crisping in the pan they look like a lot of little tents—like an encampment. A friend of ours, Sophronia Simpe, invented them. We just come out here in the woods and _gorge_ ourselves with them every Saturday.” Warde said, “Well, I guess this will be an off Saturday. We’re sorry, but we made a promise and, as Pee-wee very truthfully remarked, the wasps are good and mad by now and if we pulled that little tin wedge out——” “Oh, we wouldn’t have you to do it for _worlds_.” Stella said. “Do you think we want to be overwhelmed with wasps?” “Oh, positively not; say not so,” I said. “Not after our brave young hero sealed them up so nicely. They must be pretty mad by now.”