R-R-R-ROBBERS! Scout Harris never knew exactly when he passed out of the realm of dreams into the realm of wakefulness, for in both conditions pistols played a leading part.

He was aware of a boy scout holding Secretary Hoover at bay with two pistols and Mr.Ellsworth, his scoutmaster, rescuing the statesman with several more pistols.

And then he was very distinctly aware of someone saying, "How many pistols have you got ?" "Twenty-seven," another voice answered.
"I've got forty-three and two blackjacks," said the first voice.
"You're wrong," said the other.
"I jotted them down," the first voice replied.
"We should worry," the other one laughed.
At this appalling revelation of seventy pistols between them, to say nothing of two blackjacks, there seemed indeed very little for the speakers to worry about.

But for Scout Harris, whose whole stock of ammunition consisted of a remnant of sandwich and the almost naked core of an apple, there seemed much to worry about.
Pee-wee realized now that he was awake and being borne along at an excessive rate of speed.

He knew that he was in Bartlett's big Hunkajunk car and that the dark figures with all the firearms on the front seat were not Mr.and Mrs.Bartlett.
Trembling, he spread the robe so as the more completely to cover his small form including his head.