"You say that the man spoke broken English?" one of them asked Pee-wee.

Pee-wee was kind of nervous, I could see. "It--it--well it wasn't
exactly broken," he said.

"Just a little bent," I said, and oh, you ought to have seen the frown
Mr. Ellsworth gave me.

"It was kind of--just a little--" Pee-wee began.

"We understand," one of the men said. Then the other one spoke to us.
He said, "Boys, we want you to go over with us and we want this
youngster to identify the man. You needn't be afraid, Uncle Sam is with
you."

But, cracky, I didn't like it and I guess Pee-wee didn't either. I've
read stories about boys that had men arrested and all that, and I always
thought I'd like to be one of those regular heroes. But when it came to
really doing it, I knew then that I didn't like to help arrest anybody,
and I bet most real fellows feel the same way. I felt funny, kind of.
That's why I have no use for young detectives in stories, because I know
you've got to be a grown-up man to feel that way and do things like that.

They had an automobile right near the tennis courts and we all got in
and Pee-wee and I sat in back with our scoutmaster. Cracky, I was glad
our scoutmaster was along, that's one sure thing. Pretty soon we got to
Little Valley and Pee-wee pointed out the big white house with the lawn
and the flag flying there. Jiminy, but it looked good and I wished we
were up at Temple Camp, raising our colors near the boat landing.