“What are you talking about?” the boy called down.  “I was on it before it was born.”

“Do you mean to tell me I didn’t discover you?” Pee-wee shouted up.

“No, I discovered you,” said the other boy.

“What do you mean, you knew it before it was born?” Pee-wee demanded skeptically.  “How could it have been before it was?  If a thing isn’t, how can you know it?  You’re crazy.  I was the first one to discover it since it was here and you’re a part of it.  But anyway I’d like to know how it got here, that’s one thing I’d like to know.”

“Come on up here and I’ll tell you,” said the wild native.

Pee-wee climbed up and sat on the limb beside his new friend.  He was a boy somewhat older than Pee-wee with a face so round that the face of the man in the moon would have seemed narrow by comparison.  And there was a redness in his cheeks which made his head seem almost like an apple grown prematurely ripe upon that blossom laden tree.  He wore the negligee scout attire and his happy-go-lucky nature was made the more piquant by the easy, humorous fashion in which he sat upon the limb, swinging his legs.

Pee-wee could not have found it in his heart to quarrel with any boy whose face looked so much like an apple, and, moreover, it was apparent that here was a boy whom it would be utterly impossible to quarrel with on any ground whatever—­or in any tree whatever.

“Gee whiz, this is a funny thing,” Pee-wee said; “I was kind of making believe that I was an explorer, but anyway I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m here because I’m here,” said the other boy.

“Gee, I can’t deny that,” said Pee-wee.

“It doesn’t make any difference to me,” said the boy; “I’d just as soon be in one place as another.”

“As long as it’s not school,” said Pee-wee.

“Oh, that’s understood,” said the other boy; “let’s talk of something pleasant.”

“I bet there’ll be a lot of apples here later,” said Pee-wee; “when it’s vacation, hey?”

“I don’t know whether they’ll be here,” said the other boy, “because you can’t trust this blamed island over night, but they’ll be on the tree, wherever it is, and the way to find them will be to look for the tree.”

“You said it,” said Pee-wee.  “What’s your name?”

“Roland Poland,” said the boy; “Roly Poly for short.”

“Mine’s Walter Harris, but they call me Pee-wee.  How did this island get here anyway?”

“It started being an island under my very feet,” said Roly Poly.  “There are five scouts in my patrol besides myself; we’re just getting started——­”

“I’m the only one in my patrol,” Pee-wee interrupted.  “Where do you come from?”

“From North Bridgeboro,” said Roly Poly, swinging his legs.  “The six of us went to camp for the day just above old Trimmer’s land up the river.”

“I know him,” Pee-wee said; “he’s a grouch.”