So there he sat upon the branch, the mascot of the Raven Patrol,
with an interior like the Mammoth Cave and a voice like the
whisperings of the battle zone in France. Take a good look at him
while he is quiet for ten seconds hand running. Everything about him
is tremendous--except his size. He is built to withstand banter,
ridicule and jollying; his sturdy nature is guaranteed proof against
the battering assaults of unholy mirth from other scouts; his round
face and curly hair are the delight of the girls of Bridgeboro; his
loyalty is as the mighty rock of Gibraltar. A bully little scout he
is--a sort of human Ford.
The question of removing the letter from the banana and getting
rid of the banana (in the proper way) now presented itself to him.
He took a bite of the banana and the letter almost fell. He then
tried releasing his hold upon the trunk but that would not do. He
then extracted the letter with his teeth which effectually prevented
him from eating the banana.
What to do?
Steadying himself with one hand (he could not let go the trunk
for so much as a moment), he brought the banana to his lips, held
it between his teeth and took the letter in his unoccupied hand. As
he bit into the banana the part remaining trembled and hung as on a
thread; another moment and it would drop.
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