"We don't need matches," Pee-wee said with a condescending sneer. "Do
you think scouts use matches? They light fires by rubbing sticks.
Matches are civilized."

Whereupon Pee-wee gave a demonstration of not getting a light by the
approved old Indian fashion of rubbing sticks and striking sparks from
stones and so on.

"Here comes a man down the river in a motorboat," said Nuts; "turn the
stop sign that way and we'll ask him for a match."

Pee-wee, somewhat subdued by his failure, confronted the approaching
boat with the red panel which said STOP, and held his hand up like a
traffic officer.

But there was no need of requiring the approaching voyager to pause.
For he had every intention of pausing. Neither would there have been
any use of asking him for a match. For he never gave away matches.

Old Trimmer never gave away anything. He would not even give away a
secret, he was so stingy. To get a match from old Trimmer you would
have had to give him chloroform. It was said that he would not look at
his watch to see what time it was for fear of wearing it out, and that
he looked over the top of his spectacles to save the lenses. At all
events he was so economical that he seldom wasted any words, and the
words that he did waste were not worth saving; they were not very nice
words.