He was just as much a boy scout as the Fourth of July is a noise.

Except that he was more of a noise.
And here was a shabby, eager-faced boy, with pantaloons like stovepipes almost reaching his ankles and a ticking shirt with a pattern like a checker-board; a quaint, queer youngster, living a million miles from nowhere, telling him that he was no scout, that he was a thief.
"Hey, mister," Pee-wee shouted to Ham Sanders who drove up, "I'm rescuing this automobile from two men that stole it and I got another one to help me and he was trying to steal it and it belongs to a man I know where I live and I was at the movies with him, and that feller said he'd take it back and this feller says I'm a thief and I'm good and hungry." Ham Sanders gave one look at him and said, "Oh, is that so ?" "It's more than so," Pee-wee shouted, "and I'm going to stick to this automobile, I don't care what.

If you say I'm not a scout I can prove it." "You needn't go far to prove it," said Ham; "we can see you're not.
Maybe you're pretty wide awake--" "I'm not, I'm sleepy," Pee-wee shouted.

"Have you got anything to say around here ?" "Well, I _think_ I have, I'm constable," said Ham.
"Then why aren't you sure ?" Pee-wee retorted.

"Just because I don't know where I am it doesn't say I don't know what I'm talking about, does it?
Will you help me drive this automobile back?
You'll get some money if you do.