other hand as low as he could and the postman, smiling, stuck the
corner of the coveted letter into the mealy substance of the banana.

"You win," the postman repeated laughingly; "it shows what Scout
Harris can do with food."

"Food will win the war," Pee-Wee shouted. "You thought you could
make me throwaway my banana but you couldn't. I knew a man that died
from not eating a banana, I did."

"Explain all that," the postman said.

"He threw a banana away on his porch instead of eating it and later
he stepped on it and slid down the steps and broke his leg and they took
him to the hospital and compilations set in and he got pneumonia and
died from not eating that banana. So there."

"That's a very fine argument." the postman said as he went away.

"I know better ones than that." Pee-Wee shouted after him.


CHAPTER II

A TRAGIC PREDICAMENT

So there he sat upon his precarious perch trying to reassume the
posture which insured a good balance, clinging to the trunk with one
hand and to the banana with the other.