"It's something you buy to put on an automobile," Pee-wee said. "You let
go, I'm not going to run."

Detective Spotson, like Keekie Joe, trusted nobody. But since he had no
intention of arresting Pee-wee and since the diminutive captive seemed
rather angered than frightened, he released his hold. By a series of
wriggles and contortions, Pee-wee adjusted his clothing and settled his
neck in his stretched neckband. "Why don't--why--why don't you take
a--a--a feller your size?" he half cried and half panted.

The officers now began to have some glimmerings of the fact that here was
a boy who did not belong in Barrel Alley. They were a little taken aback
by the exhibition of so much pride and spirit. The customary, ominous
grip of the collar had not worked.

"What were you doing down here, Sonny?" Detective Slippett asked.

"I came down to hunt for fellers to start a scout patrol," Pee-wee said,
"and one feller was laying keekie for cops and he had to go home so I
took his place, because he had to keep his word with those fellers,
didn't he? Maybe you wouldn't promise fellers to do that but, gee whiz,
if you did promise them you'd have to keep your word, wouldn't you? If
he sees I help him maybe he'll get to be a scout, won't he? Do you mean
to tell me it isn't more important to be a scout than it is to let
fellers get to be arrested? Even--even Roosevelt said the scouts were
important, but he didn't say it was important you should catch fellers,
did he?"

"That's some argument," Detective Slippett said, half smiling.