know I could run around on the other side of them and spray ’em gentle until I’d drive ‘em on you, did you? You didn’t know I got a better trick than that up my sleeve yet, did you?”
Once more the girl raised halfway to her knees, and once more the hose came roaring threateningly near.
“Now you pause,” said the lictle Scout, “pause in your mad career edzackly where you are until you get me right.”
From the soiled string around the neck of the little Scout the police whistle came into play. In reply to its shrill note there burst from behind the lilac bush, from behind the poinsettias, from behind the plumbago three wildeyed, wildly dancing young fiends tuned by what they had seen to the spirit of battle.
The Scout Master stuck the police whistle in the front of a soiled blouse.
“Scout One!” came the terse order, and Fat Ole Bill drew up and saluted.
“Scout Two!”
The Nice Child bounded into place.
“Scout Three!”
Angel Face ranged in line.
“Scout Three,” said the Scout Master, “get a-hold of this hose! It’s about wiggled the wind out of me. Help me train it close to the head of the young lady doing her devotions in our presence. My neck’s going to be wrung. ‘I shall holler for assistance. I shall meet her with resistancel’”
