support of all that various disorder. Groping, careful footfalls.

"Who's there?" he asked. And the only answer was a gust of wind.

Could it be those thieves in search of him? Or might it be the ghost of
some principal or teacher lingering still among these remnants and
reminders of authority?

Step, step--step.

Then from around the corner of a charred, up-ended platform appeared a
face. A face with a cap drawn low over it. And presently a dark form
emerged.

"Who--who are--you?" Pee-wee stammered.

"I'm a teacher as was here," the stranger said. "You needn't be scared
of me, kiddo."

"I was just kind of looking around," Pee-wee explained apologetically.

"Here's a pencil fur yer," the stranger said. "I jes' picked it up."

Pee-wee accepted this as a flag of truce, and felt somewhat reassured. A
man who would give him a pencil surely meant no harm. He had as much
right to be there as Pee-wee had.

"If you were a teacher here I shouldn't think you'd say 'as was,'"
Pee-wee ventured, "But gee whiz," he added, "I don't care how you say
it." No teacher had ever before called him kiddo and he rather liked it.