He made a movement with his hand, and simultaneously the postman
retreated a step or two toward the house. Pee-Wee tried releasing his
hold upon the trunk with the other hand and almost lost his balance on
the shaky limb.
"Here," said the postman, unyielding, "chuck the banana and take the
letter or you'll find it waiting for you in the front hall. It's an
important letter, it feels as if it had a couple of cookies in it."
The postman knew Pee-Wee. "Here you go," the torturer said grimly,
"take it or not, suit yourself."
"Can't you see both hands are busy?" the victim pled. "Two bites--a
scout is supposed not to waste anything--he's supposed--he's supposed--wait
a minute--he's supposed if he starts a thing to finish it--wait, I'm not
going to take a bite, I'm only giving you an argument--can't you wait--"
"Here you go, last chance, take it," the postman said, a faint smile
hovering at the corner of his mouth, "one, two,"
Out of Pee-Wee's wrath and anguish came an inspiration.
"Stick the letter in the banana," he said, holding the banana down.
"I don't know about that," the postman said, ruefully.
"I know about it," Pee-Wee thundered down at him. "You said I had to
take it or not; that letter belongs to me and you, have to deliver it.
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