"
"Old Trimmer owned the land," Pee-wee fairly yelled, "but now the land
isn't there any more and now it's an island so he doesn't own it
because he's got a deed and it doesn't say _island_ on the deed! _Gee
whiz_, anybody knows that."
"But suppose the owner of the scow wants his property," Townsend said.
"Let him come and get it," Pee-wee shouted. "If we get a deed for this
island the scow is covered by the deed!"
"You mean it's covered by the island," Brownie said.
"Well, we seem to be standing still now, anyway," said Townsend; "it's
a relief to know that when we wake up to-morrow morning we won't be
floating in the water. Who's got a match? Let's start a fire and
begin moving toward the hunter's stew."
"We don't need matches," Pee-wee said with a condescending sneer. "Do
you think scouts use matches? They light fires by rubbing sticks.
Matches are civilized."
Whereupon Pee-wee gave a demonstration of not getting a light by the
approved old Indian fashion of rubbing sticks and striking sparks from
stones and so on.
"Here comes a man down the river in a motorboat," said Nuts; "turn the
stop sign that way and we'll ask him for a match."
Pee-wee, somewhat subdued by his failure, confronted the approaching
boat with the red panel which said STOP, and held his hand up like a
traffic officer.
But there was no need of requiring the approaching voyager to pause.
For he had every intention of pausing. Neither would there have been
any use of asking him for a match.
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