Then up jumped Pee-wee Harris like a jack--in--the--box.

"What are you talking about?" he shouted; "don't you know you have to
have a command of language to write books? You're crazy!"

"I should worry about a command of language," I told him. "Haven't I
got command of the Silver Fox Patrol? Anybody who can command the Silver
Fox Patrol ought to be able to command a few languages and things. I
could command a whole regiment even," I kept up, for I saw that Pee-wee
was getting worked up, as usual, and all the fellows were laughing,
even Mr. Ellsworth.

"If you could command a division," Westy Martin said, in that sober
way of his, "you ought to be able to command English all right."

"I can command any kind of a division," I shouted, all the while
winking at Westy, "I can command a long division or a short division or
a multiplication or a subtraction or a plain addition."

"What are you talking about?" Pee-wee yelled.

"You're crazy!"

"I can command anything except Pee-wee Harris's temper," I said.

Well, you ought to have seen Pee-wee. Even Mr. Ellsworth had to laugh.

"How can a fellow your age write books?" he fairly screamed. "You have
to have sunsets and twilights and gurgling brooks and--"