And meanwhile Peter Piper kept his secret and no one ever knew of his little exploit, for which the handbook really deserved all the credit.  The adventure of the stolen car was now forgotten in a hundred new activities, and with it the rope across the road and the lantern and all that.  Sometimes when they spoke of that, Peter was troubled.  But they did not often speak of it.  And he did not even tell them that he was a pioneer scout.  Harding and Coolidge he now kept in the pocket of his stove-pipe pantaloons.  For Peter Piper was approaching scouthood through the tenderfoot class.  Yes, they were all busy showing him.

Scout Harris showed him.  Oh yes, he showed him.  But Scout Harris was too busy showing all the rest of them to do any exclusive showing for the pioneer scout.  And besides, Peter, who was too new and too bashful and too awed by his companions and surroundings to be a good general mixer, was mostly occupied with his hero, Nick Vernon.  Pee-wee, who was a mixer as well as a fixer, went on mixing and fixing and soon he performed his greatest of all “fixing” feats; probably the greatest fixing feat in scout history.  Perhaps the greatest fixing stunt in the history of the world.

But Peter was satisfied to laugh at Pee-wee with the rest of them, with that bashful, hesitating laugh, which endeared him to them all.

It was natural that he should follow Nick Vernon about the island, for everyone liked Nick, who was quiet, humorous, modest and withal very resourceful and skilful.  He had a kind of a contained air, as if he knew more than he gave out, in contrast to Scout Harris who gave out more than he knew.  A bantering, off-hand way he had, as if all the things he did (and he could do many) were done just to kill time.  Skilful though he was, he did not take himself too seriously.  Everything he did he seemed to do incidentally.

He would wander aimlessly into some triumph.  “Going tracking?” they would say.  “Guess so,” he would answer.  He never made a fuss.  The general impression that he gave was that scouting was a good enough way to while away a summer.  Peter Piper worshipped at the shrine, winning scout personality.  He hoped that his mother would allow him to stay for the finish so that he could see Nick receive the cup.  He watched, jealously, anxiously, the stunts of the other scouts, but none of them could be mentioned along with Nick’s signalling.

One morning Nick sauntered down to the shore, Peter with him.

“Going to wigwag?” they asked him.

“Maybe, if there’s anyone to wigwag to.  No use talking if there isn’t anyone in town to listen.”

“Scout Harris talks whether there’s anyone to listen or not,” one said.

“Shall I bring the card to wigwag with?” Peter asked.

“No, don’t bother.  Got some matches?  Never mind if you haven’t.”

Peter ran back and got some.

“If you’re signalling tell them not to hurry with the school, we can wait.  Scout Harris is giving us an education.  He’s going to move the lake to-morrow.”