The laden board looked as if a cyclone had struck
it but in the tumbled chaos his quick and startled glance could
distinguish proud and lofty cakes rolled over on their brown or icy
superstructures, and doughnuts looking indeed like the cannon-balls
which might have laid low these beauteous edifices.
Keekie Joe gazed upon this scene of mouth-watering ruin with eyes
spellbound. Before him lay a miniature Pompeii buried under a kind of
lava of whipped cream and custard and chicken salad, amid which toppled
cakes and a frowning fortress of gingerbread lay sideways and upside
down. Bananas and oranges and nuts and raisins and olives littered the
scene of toothsome devastation. An empty square ice cream can,
disinterred from its quiet grave of ice, lay upon the ground. Another
was in Pee-wee's lap and our hero was armed with a deadly spoon.
"I know who you are," he said, as he annihilated a cocoanut macaroon.
"You're the feller I saw this morning. Didn't I tell you if you got to
be a scout you'd have all you want to eat? Now you see!"
Keekie Joe did see but he was too astounded to speak. He knew from
experience that this strange race of scouts carried jaw-breakers in
their pockets, and that they had a deadly aim. But he had not supposed
that they travelled in fairy barques which rivalled the windows of
bakery shops in their sumptuous appointments. He had not pictured them
as travelling on their private islands surrounded by mammoth icing
cakes five stories high, and towers of chocolate.
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