The ice cream soda argument was not a good one at all, for no lump of ice cream ever remained long intact where Pee-wee was. Whether it melted or not, it disappeared. And why this freakish little island did not rapidly dissolve was a mystery.
By all the laws it should have melted away, leaving the deserted tree to topple over and form a new obstruction to boating. But there it was floating more easily as the tide rose, with apparently no intention of allowing itself to be absorbed by the surrounding waters. It is true that a belt of muddy water bordered its wild and forbidding coast and that its shore line was of a consistency suitable for the making of mud pies, but its body seemed as solid and resistant as a rock.
Pee-wee always claimed that it was he and he alone who discovered the mysterious secret of Merry-go-round Island; he and he alone who penetrated its unknown depths. In this bold exploration a courageous sardine sandwich played an important part and out of sheer gratitude Pee-wee, from that time forward, was ever partial to sardine sandwiches, regarding them with tender and grateful affection.
He was standing near the apple tree holding the traffic sign like a pilgrim's banner beside him and, as has been told, eating a banana with the other hand. That fact is well established. Little he thought that when Roly Poly, delving into a paper bag that was in a grocery box, handed him a sardine sandwich, it would mark an epoch in scout history.
In order to accept the proffered refreshment, Pee-wee was compelled either to relinquish the traffic sign or the banana. One moment of frantic consideration held him, then in a burst of inspiration he plunged the metal standard deep into the ground, and took the sardine sandwich in his free hand. The printed cross-piece on the traffic sign joggled around so that just as he plunged his mouth into the sandwich the word GO made an appropriate announcement to his comrades. It is hard to say what might have happened if Townsend Ripley had not turned the sign so that it said STOP just as Pee-wee consumed the last mouthful.
"Isstrucsmlikewood," ejaculated Pee-wee, consuming the last mouthful. "Issoundlkbo—boards!"
Billy was quick to raise the bar of the traffic sign and plunge it down again. It was certainly no tentacle of root that the probing bar struck, but something hard, yet ever so slightly yielding, something which gave forth a hollow sound.
It was easy to explore America after Columbus had shown the way and it was a simple matter now for Townsend, with the little shovel, to dig a hole three or four feet deep about the traffic sign. The boys all kneeled about, peering in as if buried treasure were there, until an area of muddy wood was revealed. Roly Poly knocked it with a rock and the noise convinced them that the wood was of considerable area and that probablynothing was beneath it.
"Well—what—do—you—know—about—that?" Billy asked incredulously.
"Jab it down somewhere else," said Brownie.
Pee-wee moved the metal rod a yard or so distant and plunged it in the ground again. There was the same hollow sound. For a moment they all sat spellbound, mystified. Then, as if seized by a sudden thought, Brownie hurried to the edge of the little island, exploring with his hands. He lifted up some grassy soil that drooped and hung in the water, and tore it away. As he did so there was revealed a ridge of heavy wood over which it had hung. By the same process he exposed a yard or two of this black mud-covered edge.
"Well—I'll—be—jiggered!" said Billy.
"It's a scow or something!" said Brownie, almost too astonished to speak.
"The island seems to overlap it sort of like a pie-crust," drawled Townsend.
"The scow is the undercrust!" shouted Pee-wee, delighted with this comparison to his favorite edible. "We'll call it Apple-pie Island and it can't corrode or erode or whatever you call it, either, because it's boxed in!"
That indeed seemed to be the way of it. Apparently the island reposed comfortably in and over the edges of a huge, shallow box of heavy timbers which had received it with kindly hospitality when it broke away and toppled over into the water. As we know, the river had eaten away the land under the little balcony peninsula, and the scow, or whatever it was, must have drifted or been moored underneath the earthy projection.
"Maybe it belonged to that big dredge that was working up here," said Pee-wee. "Anyway it's lucky for us, hey? Because now our island has a good foundation and it can't dis—what d'you call it."
"Only it complicates the question of ownership," said Townsend, apparently not in the least astonished or excited. "Here is a piece of land belonging to old Trimmer on a scow or something or other belonging to a dredging company or somebody or other and claimed by the boy scouts by right of discovery."
"Old Trimmer owned the land," Pee-wee fairly yelled, "but now the land isn't there any more and now it's an island so he doesn't own it because he's got a deed and it doesn't sayislandon the deed!Gee whiz, anybody knows that."
"But suppose the owner of the scow wants his property," Townsend said.
"Let him come and get it," Pee-wee shouted. "If we get a deed for this island the scow is covered by the deed!"
"You mean it's covered by the island," Brownie said.
"Well, we seem to be standing still now, anyway," said Townsend; "it's a relief to know that when we wake up to-morrow morning we won't be floating in the water. Who's got a match? Let's start a fire and begin moving toward the hunter's stew."
"We don't need matches," Pee-wee said with a condescending sneer. "Do you think scouts use matches? They light fires by rubbing sticks. Matches are civilized."
Whereupon Pee-wee gave a demonstration of not getting a light by the approved old Indian fashion of rubbing sticks and striking sparks from stones and so on.
"Here comes a man down the river in a motorboat," said Nuts; "turn the stop sign that way and we'll ask him for a match."
Pee-wee, somewhat subdued by his failure, confronted the approaching boat with the red panel which said STOP, and held his hand up like a traffic officer.
But there was no need of requiring the approaching voyager to pause. For he had every intention of pausing. Neither would there have been any use of asking him for a match. For he never gave away matches.
Old Trimmer never gave away anything. He would not even give away a secret, he was so stingy. To get a match from old Trimmer you would have had to give him chloroform. It was said that he would not look at his watch to see what time it was for fear of wearing it out, and that he looked over the top of his spectacles to save the lenses. At all events he was so economical that he seldom wasted any words, and the words that he did waste were not worth saving; they were not very nice words.
Old Trimmer chugged up to the edge of the island in the shabbiest, leakiest little motor dory on the river, and grasped a little tuft of greensward to keep his boat from drifting.
"Well, now, what's all this?" he began. "What you youngsters been doin' up the river, eh?"
"This used to be your land before it was an island," said Pee-wee diplomatically. "I bet you'll say it's funny how it used to be your apple tree and everything. But it broke away and kind of fell down and now it's an island and we discovered it. It can't—one thing—it can't ever be a peninsula again, that's sure. Islands, they're discovered and then you own them, that's the way it is. Findings is keepings with islands."
"Is that so?" said old Trimmer, half-interested and examining what might be called the underpinning of the island with keen preoccupation.
The boys hold the island in spite of old Trimmer's protest.[Illustration: The boys hold the island in spite of old Trimmer's protest.]
The boys hold the island in spite of old Trimmer's protest.[Illustration: The boys hold the island in spite of old Trimmer's protest.]
"Well, you'll just clear off'n this here property double quick. Pile in here and I'll set you ashore."
"Don't you go," urged Pee-wee; "we've got a right here; we're going to camp on this island."
"Sure we are," said Roly Poly.
"And you can't make us get off, either, because it isn't on your land."
Old Trimmer wasted no words. "Pile in here, all of you," he said, indicating the boat, "or I'll have yer all up fer trespassin'."
"Do you own this old scow or whatever it is underneath us?" Townsend asked quietly.
"Look a'here, young feller, no talkin' back," said old Trimmer testily; "come along, step lively. I'm going to tow this whole business back up to where it belongs. Now d'ye want me ter set yer ashore or not?"
"Not," said Roly Poly.
"I don't think we have anything to say about it, Mr. Trimmer," said Townsend. "The land that used to be part of your field seems to be on a scow or something or other and we're on the land that's on the scow. We're here because we're here——"
"Let's hear you answer that argument!" shouted Pee-wee in a voice of thunder. "This is a river, isn't it? Do you deny that? It's an inward waterway—I mean inland—and it belongs to the government and this scow or whatever it is, is on it and something that used to be a peninsula but isn't any more is on the scow and we're on the thing that used to be a peninsula——"
"In the shade of the young apple tree," said Townsend.
"That's just what I was going to say," said Pee-wee, "and you can't put us off this land because if that's trespassing then the land is trespassing too—it's trespassing on the scow—so we won't get off the land till you take the land off the scow and put it back where it belongs and then we'll get off it because, gee whiz, scouts have no right to trespass." He paused, not for lack of arguments but for lack of breath.
"So that's the way it is, is it?" said old Trimmer darkly. "Well, we'll see."
"Sure we'll see," said Pee-wee. "That shows how much you know about geography and international law and all those things. Suppose Cape Cod should break off and float away. Would it belong to New Hampshire any more—I mean Connecticut—I mean Massachusetts? Gee whiz, we're going to stay right here because we're on a public waterway and anyway you don't own the scow that this land is on, do you?"
There was, of course, no answer to this fine analysis of the legal points involved.
"That there scow was under my land," said old Trimmer.
"It was in the river and it wasn't on anybody's land as I understand it," said Townsend in his funny way. "Your land trespassed on the scow——"
"Sure it did!" interrupted Pee-wee.
"It really had no right to do that, Mr. Trimmer, unless you can show that you own the scow. As I understand it this is a kind of a legal sandwich. The land that used to be a part of your field is between the scow and us——"
"Sure it is!" vociferated Pee-wee, caught by the idea of a sandwich so huge and picturesque. "We're kind of like one of the slices of bread and the scow is the other slice. It's thick and dark like rye bread," he added to make the picture more graphic.
"It's a kind of a legal sandwich," said Townsend, sitting back against the tree with his knees drawn up and talking with a calmness and seriousness which aroused the wrath of old Trimmer. "It's a kind of an interesting situation. We have as much right on the scow as the land has, as I see it——"
"Sure, you learn that in the third grade!" shouted Pee-wee. "That's logic."
"Really, the best thing to do," drawled Townsend, "would be to remove the land, which would let us down onto the scow and that would let you out of the difficulty. We'd be answerable to the owner of the scow."
"It belonged to the big dredge," Pee-wee said excitedly. "I knew all the men on that dredge; I used to hang out on that dredge; those men were all friends of mine. We wouldn't be trespassing except your land is in the way."
"If you want us to shovel the land out of here we'll do it," suggested Roly Poly.
"Then the tree'll fall over," said Brownie.
"Gee whiz," shouted Pee-wee, "it'll serve the tree right because all the time fellers are being accused of trespassing in apple trees and now you can see for yourself that apple trees are just as bad. They trespass on scows."
"We could have this tree fined ten dollars," said Billy, "if we wanted to report it to the dredging company in New York."
"Or it would have to go to jail for thirty days," yelled Pee-wee.
"I don't see what we're going to do, Mr. Trimmer," said Townsend.
"I know what we're going to do," said Pee-wee; "we're going to do a lot of things. We're natives of this island."
"We don't recognize this land," said Townsend; "we consider it beneath us."
"Sure it's beneath us!" shouted Pee-wee.
"It simply happens to trespass on the scow first," said Townsend. "I think we'll stand on our rights."
"Well, yer ain't goin' ter stand on my property, yer ain't!" old Trimmer bellowed, his wrath rising. Townsend's calmness seemed to goad him to a perfect frenzy.
"Well, then," said Townsend, "the only thing for us to do is to shovel out a space and camp on that. Then our feet will be on the scow——"
"We'll be on friendly territory," shouted Pee-wee. "Your land can camp here with us if it wants to."
"Or you can take it away, just as you please," said Townsend. "Only we warn you not to take any liberties with this scow. We're personally acquainted with Mr. Steam of the Steam Dredging Company and we're going to charter this scow, now that we're on it. We can get another desert island to put on it if necessary."
"Do you see this traffic sign?" Pee-wee yelled at the top of his voice. He stood like some conquering hero, holding the martial stop sign with one hand. "The bottom of this bar is planted on the scow. Do you hear the noise it makes when I bump it up and down? It goes right through this land. We take possession of this scow in the name of the new Alligator Patrol or maybe it'll be the Turtles, we don't know yet. We plant our banner on the—the——"
"The rye bread," said Billy.
"And if this land," Pee-wee continued, "that used to be a peninsula and stuck out over the river from your field and trespassed on the scow when it didn't have any right to because it wasn't friends with the dredge men—if this land wants to stay here it can."
"What do you say, Mr. Trimmer?" Townsend laughed. "If you want to tow this whole business back up to your place we'll help you shovel the land off the scow. We don't want to camp on an island that violates the law. But you haven't got anything to do with this scow. I'm not asking you how it got alongside your field or why the dredging people didn't take it away when they took the dredge away; that's your business," he added rather significantly. "We'll admit the land is yours——"
"No, we won't!" said Pee-wee.
"Yes, we will," said Townsend quietly. "Now what do you want to do about this property? Shall we wrap it up for you or shall we send it? Our dealings are with the steam dredge people. Now what do you say? By the way, will you have a cruller?"
It was perfectly evident that Townsend Ripley, with rather more quiet shrewdness than any of them had given him credit for, had gently stabbed Mr. Trimmer in a weak spot. It was the scow that old Trimmer wanted. How he had come by it had been only faintly suggested by Townsend. How it had chanced to be moored in that secluded spot under the projecting land after the big dredge had gone away, was not discussed and is not a part of this story. It seemed evident that old Trimmer was rather disturbed at the thought of the boys getting in touch with the dredge people.
"Go ahead n' camp on it then," he said in sulky surrender; "and don't make a nuisance of yourselves writin' letters to the dredging company. Them men has got something else ter do besides bothering with a crew of crazy youngsters."
"But you know what you said about trespassing, Mr. Trimmer," said Townsend. "You have taught us that we shouldn't trespass and we thank you for the lesson. We'll have to drop Mr. Steam a line. How about a cruller, Mr. Trimmer? They were just stolen from our small friend's kitchen. Don't care for stolen fruit, hey? You're too particular, Mr. Trimmer."
Seldom has there been a surrender so complete and unconditional. There were no banners to celebrate the triumph (for which Pee-wee took all the credit) but as old Trimmer started up the river Pee-wee turned the sign so that the word GO faced the departing voyager like a commanding finger to order the vanquished from his victorious presence.
"Do you think he had some treasure in the scow?" Pee-wee asked. "Maybe if we dig we'll find some gold nuggets."
"Let's try some of those cocoanut nuggets," said Townsend.
"Didn't I know how to handle him?" said Pee-wee. "Now the island is ours, isn't it?"
"I think before we have supper," said Townsend, "we'll write a line to the dredging people. What do you say?"
"We'll write it on bark from the tree on account of our being wild and uncivilized," said Pee-wee. "I can make ink out of prune juice and we can write with a stick like hunters do when they get lost."
"Do they carry prune juice with them?" Billy asked.
"Sometimes they use blood," said Pee-wee. "I can make ink from onions too—invisible ink. Shall I make some?"
"I thought you were going to make a hunter's stew," said Brownie.
"Go ahead," said Roly Poly, "you make the hunter's stew—it won't be invisible, will it?"
"It will when we get through with it," said Billy.
"And while you're making the stew, Rip will write the letter and the first one of us that goes ashore will mail it."
The letter which Townsend Ripley wrote to the dredging company asking permission to use the old scow surmounted by a luxurious desert island was very funny, but it was not nearly as funny as the hunter's stew which Pee-wee made.
Their minds now free as to their rights (at least, for the time being) they sprawled about under the little tree as the afternoon sunlight waned and partook of the weird concoction which Pee-wee cooked in the dishpan over the rough fireplace which they had constructed. And if Pee-wee was not the equal of his friend Roy Blakeley in the matter of cooking, he was at least vastly superior to him in the matter of eating, and as he himself observed, "Gee whiz, eating is more important than cooking anyway."
It was pleasant sitting about on this new and original desert island which combined all the attractions of wild life with substantial safety. Only its overlapping edges could wash away and as these melted and disappeared the island gradually assumed a square and orderly conformation; its bleak and lonely coast formed a tidy square and looked like some truant back yard off on a holiday. What it lost in rugged grandeur it made up in modern neatness and seemed indeed a desert island with all improvements.
Nestling within its stalwart and water-tight timbers it presented a scene of varied beauty. Grasshoppers disported gayly upon its rugged surface, occasionally leaping inadvertently into the surrounding surf and kicking their ungainly legs in the sparkling water.
A pair of adventurous robins that had refused to desert the fugitive peninsula were chirping in the little blossom-laden tree and one of them came down and perched upon the traffic sign to prune his feathers before retiring. Savage beetles roamed wild over the isle, and wild angleworms, disturbed by the late upheaval, squirmed about in quest of new homes.
The vegetation on the island appeared in gay profusion, reminding one of the Utopian scenes of fragrant beauty which delighted the eyes of the bold explorers who first landed on the shores of Florida.
Yellow dandelions dotted the greensward, purple violets peeped up through the overgrown grass, and a rusty tin can, memento of some prehistoric fisherman perhaps, lay near the shore. Not even the geometrical perfection of the island detracted from its primitive and rugged beauty.
True, it had no bays or wooded coves where pirates might have lurked, and it was fickle to any one spot. But wheresoever its wanton fancy took it the dying sunlight flickered down through the little tree and glazed the spotless blossoms so full of promise that clustered above the little band of hardy adventurers.
Before they had finished their repast—a repast as strange and surprising as the island itself—they had drifted half a mile upstream with the incoming tide. Here the sturdy underpinning of the desert isle caught upon a tiny reef and the island swung slowly around like a sleepy carrousel and rested from its travels.
Meanwhile we must return to the mother country, to take note of important happenings there. While our doughty explorers were eating their hunter's stew in this strange land and sprawling beneath their tree in the gathering twilight surrounded by unknown perils, the gay Silver Fox Patrol returned from New York after a day spent in shopping and sightseeing.
They proceeded at once to their railroad car down by the river where they found the Ravens, who had just returned from a hike. Soon the Elks, returning from an auto ride, joined their comrades and a lively discussion occurred. It pertained to the lawn party to be given that evening at the home of Miss Minerva Skybrow of the Camp-fire Girls.
"What time do you have supper at your house?" Doc Carson asked Roy Blakeley.
"We have it about eight o'clock on Saturdays," said Roy. "My father's playing golf."
"Same here," said Artie Van Arlen; "my father has to stay late so as to beat your father."
"If he stays at the links long enough to do that you'll never see him again," said Roy. "What time is this racket supposed to be, anyway?"
"Eight sharp," said Grove Bronson.
"Are we going to go all separated together or all separated at once?" Roy asked.
"Positively," said Warde Hollister.
"Positively what?" asked Connie Bennett.
"It's all the same to me, only different," said Roy. "Only this is what I was thinking. We all have supper at different times except Pee-wee and he has supper all the time. As Abraham Lincoln said at the battle of Marne, 'Some people are half hungry all the time, some people are all hungry half the time, but Pee-wee isallhungryallthe time.' I wonder where he is anyway?"
"Down in Bennett's having a soda, I guess," said Westy Martin.
"Is he going to the party?" Tom Warner asked.
"Search me," said Westy. "I guess not, he doesn't dance. I heard somebody say he was with some fellows up the river."
"Starting a new bunch of patrols, I suppose," said Roy.
"Bentley's gardener saw him somewhere," said Wig Weigand.
"It's just possible he was somewhere," said Roy. "I've often known him to go there. Let's talk of something pleasant. What do you say we get a light supper down here. Anybody that wants to go home and dress can do it only he has to hustle. She wants us to wear our scout suits anyway, she said so. I say let's get a few eats down here and then wash up and all hike it up there together. United we stand——"
"What are we going to eat?" Grove Bronson asked. "I don't see anything here but some fishhooks and a package of tacks."
"Listen to the voice from Pee-wee's old patrol!" said Roy. "Eats! I'll fry some killies. Haven't we got some milk chocolate and Ulika biscuits? I bet there's a large crowd of peanuts and other junk in Pee-wee's locker. Can't you wait till you get to Minerva's? She'll have chicken salad and ice cream and sandwiches and cake and lemonade and paper napkins and souvenirs and everything. We'll feel more like eating a little later. What do you all say? If each of us goes home we'll never get together again; we'll all straggle in there one by two."
"Suppose she doesn't have anything but a couple of fancy boxes of bonbons; you know how girls are," said Doc Carson. "Safety first, that's what I say."
"I haven't had anything to eat since lunch time," said Ralph Warner.
"Minerva wouldn't wish anything like that on us," said Connie.
"You said it," said Roy; "they're not passing around famines up at her house. Where do you think we're going? To Russia? Minerva's got the Sandwich Islands green with envy. What's the use of spoiling refreshments by eating now? You fellows are worse than the children of Armenia! I say, let's have a swim; the tide is nice and high, and then rest up and eat some crackers and hike up to the party. They'll be throwing chocolate cake at us up there.
"My patrol all have their good suits on; most of the rest of you have some Christmas tree regalia in your lockers, and the others can beat it home and hurry up back. What do you say? Aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye!" Roy shouted. "Carried by a large majority! Come on, let's go in for a swim while the tide's up. That will help to give us an appetite."
"What do you mean, help to give us one?" asked Artie Van Arlen. "Haven't I got four already?"
"Well, when you come out of the water you'll have five," said Roy.
"Suppose—suppose," said Dorry Benton, who was ever cautious, "suppose, justsupposethey should only have lady fingers and grape juice, or something like that." He stood uncertain, dangling his bathing suit. "Suppose they should have afternoon tea crackers. Did you ever eat those?"
"They're more likely to have roast turkey," said Roy. "Don't I go up there every couple of days and play tennis? I can't play the game even because they're always pushing a chunk of cake into my left hand."
"I know, Roy," said Warde Hollister. He also was a far-sighted and thoughtful boy who did his homework in the afternoon and started on New Year's saving up for next Christmas. "But this is a lawn-party—Japanese napkins and lettuce and things like that. We're taking an awful chance, Roy. We may get salted almonds——"
"You should worry," said Roy; "here's your bathing suit. Come on, we've only got about an hour. Think of the poor children of Europe. Minerva Skybrow is positively guaranteed. I never saw such a bunch, you're always worrying about something."
And with that, by way of starting things, he pushed Connie Bennett into the water …
In history we read that while the hardy pioneers toiled and suffered in the New England forest the gay votaries of fashion danced and made merry in the royal courts of Europe. And history repeats itself, for while Minerva Skybrow and her girl companions decked the Skybrow lawn with lanterns of many colors, and frilled their hair, and festooned the rustic summer-house with streamers, the sturdy adventurers who swore allegiance to the martial traffic sign of Pee-wee Harris were suffering as no hardy pioneer had ever suffered before as they loyally partook of the hunter's stew which their leader had prepared in the dishpan. If, indeed, this novel concoction was the favorite fare of hunters, it is no wonder that the race of hunters is becoming extinct. But our business is not with the explorers.
The spacious lawn of the Skybrow home was bathed in the soft light of many paper lanterns depending from cords strung from tree to tree. Other lanterns nestled in the spreading trees like jewels in a setting of foliage.
On that night the genial moon smiled down upon the Camp-fire Girls and sent his myriad of rays like a serenading party to enliven the festive scene. The place looked like some enchanted grove. A platform had been built for the dancing, several little khaki-colored tents that had done service in the North Woods (north of Bridgeboro) dotted the lawn, the emblem of the Camp-fire Girls waved above the summer-house, bathed in the glow of a small search-light, and, glory of glories, a small tent nestling under a spreading elm near the moonlit river contained a table which looked like a snowy monument reared in tribute to the god of food.
Yes, Roy was right; the Skybrows did not do these things by halves. Here indeed was a haven for the famished; here rescue awaited the starving scout. In the center stood a pyramid of triangular sandwiches, rivalling in magnitude the pyramids of Egypt. This was flanked by two gorgeous icing cakes, one white and one brown. A bowl of chicken salad overflowed its cut glass confines, the same as Pee-wee's island had overflowed its trusty scow.
It is true that the much feared salted almonds were there but they crouched in shame under the spreading sides of a wooden hash-bowl camouflaged with crepe paper and piled with jellied doughnuts. If there were any lady fingers they did not show their faces (if lady fingers have faces) but the jovial raspberry tart was there in all its glory a hundred strong.
"Oh, I think everything is perfectlyscrumptious," said Minerva Skybrow, completing a tour of inspection at this culinary paradise and allowing herself an olive or two.
"Goodness gracious, let them alone or there won't be any left," said Miss Dora Dane Daring.
"Silly!" said Minerva. "There areoceansof them. Doesn't the river look perfectly lovely in the moonlight?"
"Oh, I think everything isperfectly adorable," said another friend; "and the weather is justheavenly. For goodness' sakes, let the candy alone; that's the fourth piece you took."
"Listen," said Minerva. "I'm not going to let asingle oneof them come out here till they have all arrived. We're going to have the concert in the house first and they'vejust gotto listen to Mrs. Wild speak about the Camp-fire movement, because she's justperfectly wonderful. Do you know, I wish I had put the refreshments in the summer house. No, I don't either—yes, I do. It would have been more romantic—rustic."
"Oh, I think this tent isperfect," said another girl, slyly helping herself to a salted almond.
"I know," said Minerva, her hand stealing unconsciously toward a box of marshmallows, "I know, but what I wanted was something unusual—symbolic. A rustic platform in one of the big trees would have been nice; it would have been sort of—sort ofscoutish. I want to have thingsdifferent. That's why boys always make fun of the Camp-fire Girls, they think we'retame. Think how Roy Blakeley and his friends actually camped in that adorable old railroad car while it was traveling, goodness knows where. When I went to the Aero Club reception with Harold Fall they had the refreshments in a great balloon; we had to go up to it on a ladder—shh, listen! Did you hear a noise?"
A chorus of excited whisperings followed her startled query.
"No, where?"
"What was it?"
"Was it a voice?"
"You mean on the river?"
"Shh, listen," said Minerva; "look, do you see a light—right there among the bushes?Shh. Don't run."
There was indeed a light shining through the dark foliage alongshore and presently a voice was to be heard, a voice speaking words to strike terror to the stoutest Camp-fire Girl heart.
"I watched for the cops," it said, "and as soon as I saw them I beat it across the field and told the gang and every one got away but it was a narrow escape. One detective had me by the collar.This is going to be easy though."
"Bandits!" whispered Minerva.
"They're going to rob the house while we're on the lawn," breathed Margaret Timerson.
"They're crouching on the shore just behind those bushes," said another girl.
"Leave it to me," said the mysterious voice. "I'll handle them."
We left Merry-go-round Island revolving gracefully upon a tiny reef whence it was borne by the rising tide. We are now to take up our narrative at the point where the island ceased spinning and was carried slowly on upstream by the incoming waters. When the tide reached flood, the island hesitated upon the still water, then like some obedient and clumsy ox, moved slowly downstream again upon the ebb. And meanwhile, the day departed and darkness fell upon the winding river and the hardy adventurers lit their lanterns.
"I was hoping we might stick in some pleasant spot," said Townsend, "where the fishing is good. I forgot how a floating island might act in a tidal river. I wish this island would make up its mind to something. Just when I want to explore the western coast I find it's the eastern coast. I don't know where I'm at——"
"You don't have to know where you're at to have fun," said Pee-wee.
"I know it," said Townsend; "but when I hike fifteen or twenty feet to the north coast of the island and then the island swings around and I find I'm on the south coast, I've got to hike all the way across the island again to get to the north coast and when I get there I find I'm on the west coast. Then I cross to the east coast and in about a minute I find I'm on the southern shore.
"No matter where I go I'm somewhere else; it's discouraging. I've walked forty-eleven miles since supper trying to keep on the western coast and here I am on the north—wait a minute—the eastern coast. If this island won't stay still I can't explore it."
"I tell you what we can do," said Pee-wee; "we can penetrate the interior, then we'll always be in the same place."
So they penetrated the interior and sprawled on the ground and chatted.
"When we find another member," said Pee-wee, "we'll have a full patrol and then we'll have to start a scout record and write down a description of the island and everything we see, because scouts have to do that because they have to be observant and they have to be accurate when they describe things."
"Would you say that this little tree is near the west coast of the island?" Townsend asked. "I've followed it around for the last half hour and I don't know where it is except it's here."
"Here isn't a place," said Roly Poly.
"Sure it is," shouted Pee-wee; "here is just as much a place as there."
"More," said Townsend. "There are three places—here, there, and everywhere; I've often heard them spoken of."
"That's just where this island is," said Brownie.
"Absolutely," said Townsend, "only it won't stay there. Is there anything more we can eat? Anything more that you don't have tomake? My long tramp in search of the west coast has made me hungry again."
"I can make flapjacks," said Pee-wee; "I've got eight pounds of Indian meal."
"How far would I have to hike to digest them?" Townsend asked.
"You'd need a bigger island than this," said Brownie. "You couldn't digest a flapjack on anything smaller than South America."
"Give me a piece of chocolate," said Townsend, "and a couple of prunes."
"It looks nice up the river in the moonlight, doesn't it?" Brownie asked.
"You mean down the river," said Townsend.
"I'm facing——"
"Don't try to find out where you're facing," said Townsend. "Here, eat a prune."
"I'm going to turn in pretty soon," said Nuts.
"That's a new place to turn," said Townsend. "We've turned everywhere butin. In the morning we'll turn out; then we will have turned everywhere."
"We're flopping downstream pretty fast," said Brownie; "that's one sure thing."
"I'm glad there's something sure," said Townsend. It was as good as a circus to see him sitting against the tree with his knees drawn up, glancing this way and that with a funny look of patient resignation on his face.
"What do you say we put the tent up in the heart of the interior? Then we'll be able to find it in the morning. The unknown heart of the interior seems to be the only place we can be sure of. At least it always stays inside. Hand me that grocery box from the extreme southern shore, will you? And another prune? The heart of my interior demands another prune. Do you know, Discoverer, what I think? I think I see a settlement. I don't know where it is because I don't know which way I'm facing, but I'm certainly facing a settlement—or at least I was a second ago. There it is again. I think we're nearing the coast of Japan; I see a Japanese lantern. That's funny. Did we pass the Philippines?"
"I don't know," said Brownie. "We passed Corbett's Lumber Yard."
"The Philippines are farther along," said Townsend; "they're the second turn to our left. If this island hits Japan they'll grab it; I have a feeling that they'll grab it like the island of Yap."
"I've got an inspiration! I've got an inspiration!" shouted Pee-wee in a voice of thunder. "I know where we're at. That's Mr. Skybrow's place down there. He owns a lot of railroads and things! They're having a lawn party there to-night!"
"Are they having anything to eat?" Townsend asked quietly.
"Yum, yum—m-m-m!" said Pee-wee. "They have everything. Once I went to Minerva's birthday party and I couldn't go to school all next week, that's how much they have to eat there. Get the clothes-sticks. Get the clothes-sticks! Let's pole the island to shore. I bet she'll like you because you're big—I'll introduce you to her—all my old troop is going to be there—hurry up—push—keep pushing!"
"Reach over to the west coast and hand me that pole from the north coast before it goes over to the east coast," said Townsend quietly.
"Get up!Get up!" shouted Pee-wee, all excitement. "Aren't you going to get up?"
"Positively," said Townsend, dragging himself to his feet.
"Shh!" said Pee-wee, "let's surprise them."
"You're the only one that's making any noise," said Townsend.
"I mean myself, too," said Pee-wee. "Shhhh."
"He's telling himself to keep still," said Brownie, unable to control his laughter.
"I mean all of us—me too," said Pee-wee. "Shh."
It was during the long and rather difficult process of poling the island to shore that Pee-wee, unable to impose more than comparative quiet upon himself, edified his companions with an account of his recent adventure in Barrel Alley.
And it was his seemingly ominous mention of "cops" and fugitives which Minerva Skybrow and her friends, lingering at the little refreshment tent near the river, overheard. At that moment the desert island was bobbing against the thick rhododendron bushes at the edge of the lawn.