the floor as the fickle things went out. Some day, _some day, maybe_,
Peter would have a _real_ flashlight with a switch button, a flashlight
of shiny nickel that he could polish, such a flashlight as he had seen a
picture of in _Boy's Life_. A flashlight that would not blow out.
Sometime he would--maybe....




CHAPTER XXI

SEEIN' THINGS


Stop-blue-car-five-o-seven-nine-two-eagle-on-front.

Out of the solemn darkness, someone, somewhere, had called to Peter
Piper of Piper's Crossroads; had stolen like a silent ghost to his
little window and bidden him watch.

Far away that arresting voice may have been, away off in the big world,
and none could say how far or near, or where or how it spoke, calling in
the endless wilderness of night. But it spoke to Peter Piper, of Piper's
Crossroads, to Peter Piper, pioneer scout.

And Peter Piper, with the aid of the only scout companion that he had,
read it and was _prepared_, as it is the way of a scout to be.

He did not dare to hope that he was being drawn into the actual circle
of scouting; he would not know how to act among those natty strangers.