Well, on Saturday Westy and Dorry Benton and Ralph Warner (they’re all in my patrol) went into the city to get Skinny’s outfit, so we could give him a surprise at the meeting on Monday night.  I didn’t go because I wanted Westy to have the say, and I didn’t want him to think I was butting in, because Skinny belonged to him, as you might say.  Besides I had to cut the grass to my sisters could play tennis with Johnny Wade—­honest, that fellow is there all the time.  He’s got a machine, but I never saw it.  I guess maybe it’s a sewing machine, hey?

Now I didn’t know how much money Mr. Bennett gave Mr. Ellsworth.  All I know is that when the fellows came back they had everything for Skinny, or most everything.  Because they came up to Camp Solitaire (that’s the tent I have on our lawn) and we opened the whole business.  Pee-wee was there and the first thing we knew he Was shouting that there wasn’t any beltaxe.

“We used all the money we had,” Westy said “and it isn’t worth while asking Mr. Bennett for any more, even if there’s one or two things missing.”

Oh, jiminy, Pee-wee went up in the air.  “Why didn’t you get a belt-axe,” he shouted; “don’t you know a belt-axe is the most important thing of all?  It’s the sign of the scout!  It’s more important than the uniform.”

“He’d look nice going down Main Street with a belt-axe and no uniform,” I said; “you’re crazy on the subject of belt-axes.  What’s the matter, are you afraid Hindenberg is going to invade Bridgeboro?  You should worry about a belt-axe.  Wait till he’s a tenderfoot.”

“That shows how much you know about scouting,” he yelled; “the belt-axe is the emblem of the woods.”

“The which?’, Westy said.

“The emblem of the woods,” he hollered at the top of his voice.  “You have to have a belt-axe first of all.  It’s more important than the Handbook.  It means woodcraft and—­and—­and all that sort of stuff!”

Well, first I just laughed at him and jollied him along, because I know how crazy he is about things like that—­he’d wear every badge in the Hand. book on his chest if he had the chance.  And he’s always getting new suits and things, because his father is rich.  Pee-wee’s all right only he’s daffy about all the scout stuff that you see in the pictures and he always has his belt-axe dragging on his belt, even when he’s home, as if he expected to chop down all the telegraph poles on Main Street.

“You have belt-axes on the brain,” Westy told him.

“He’s got them on the belt anyway,” I said.

“You ask Mr. Ellsworth about it and see what he says,” Ralph Warner said.  “He’ll tell you it’s better for Skinny to wait till he can earn a little money and then buy a belt-axe.  There’s time enough.”

“Sure he would,” I said, because I know just how Mr. Ellsworth feels about things like that.  And for all I know, maybe he didn’t want Skinny to have everything at the start, just so as he would be able to get some things all by himself later.  Because Mr. Ellsworth thinks that’s the best way.  Of course, we always jollied Pee-wee about his belt-axe and about wearing his scout-knife and his drinking cup hanging from his belt right home in Bridgeboro, as if he was in South Africa, and Mr. Ellsworth always said he was the typical scout—­that’s the word he used—­typical.