The lawn party was over, two score or more of famished guests had gone to their homes, the lights in the Skybrow house were out, the sputtering candles in the Japanese lanterns were dying one by one, the grounds were still and dark except for the merry moon which smiled down upon the scene of revelry and tragedy.
At the edge of the lawn where the Isle of Desserts had been, six figures sat in the darkness. They sat in a row, their legs drawn up and held by their clasped hands. They sat waiting and watching in the silent night.
"The river is going to eat the edge of this lawn all away if they don't face it with stone," said Roly Poly.
"Will you please stop talking about eating?" said Brownie.
"I know, but you'd think a rich man like Mr. Skybrow would make provision for a thing like that," said a boy they called Shorty.
"Will you please stop talking about provisions?" said Townsend.
"I know, but Nuts was saying——"
"Will you please stop talking about nuts?" said Townsend.
"Well, what shall I talk about then?" Brownie asked.
"Talk about the rhododendron bushes," said Billy. "Look where a big clump was pulled away. Look at that one—all broken. These bushes will have to be all pruned."
"Will you please stop talking about prunes?" said Townsend.
"I know, but seven or eight——"
"Will you please not mention the word ate?" said Townsend. "They ought to be thankful he left the lawn."
"What did his father say over the 'phone?" one asked.
"Oh, he didn't seem to worry," said Townsend. "He knows that the island is on a scow and that the river is small and that his son always lands right side up; that's what he said. I told him the island would come up with the tide and that we'd wait here and row out when he came in sight. He said there was no danger, that the discoverer is always lucky."
"Oh, he's lucky," said Brownie.
"Nothing short of an earthquake can capsize the island," Townsend said.
"He's a whole earthquake in himself," said Billy.
"More than that," said Shorty. "If I owned a restaurant I wouldn't leave it around, not unless there were buildings on both sides of it."
"And a weight on the top," said Brownie.
"Oh, that goes without saying," said Shorty.
"The blamed thing can't sink, can it?" Billy asked.
"I don't know how heavy his nine ideas are," said Townsend. "They would be the only thing that could sink it."
"We'll reach him easy as pie——"
"Please don't say that word," Townsend pled.
"I think I see the lantern now," said Billy.
"I was afraid he might have eaten that——"
"I could eat it myself," said Roly Poly.
"It's probably all you get," said Townsend.
Pee-wee's surprising coup had not indeed caused any real anxiety in any quarter. It is true that his mother, answering Townsend's thoughtful 'phone call from the Skybrow home, had expressed concern at his being cast up with no companion but a banquet, but no one, not even his parents, feared for his safety.
The river was too tame and narrow, and the island altogether too secure upon its vast scow to introduce the smallest element of peril into his exploit. The tide would have to come up and upon its expanding bosom the gorged hero would return to his native land. Roy and his friends, knowing that Pee-wee's new victims were to rejoin him, went to their several homes to rifle kitchens and turn pantries inside out.
"Yes, that's his light, all right," said Billy.
"That you, Discoverer?" Townsend called, as the light bobbed gayly nearer and nearer. It was coming up the channel.
"Sure," called Pee-wee. "I've got something new! I've got a big surprise for you!"
"Another?" said Townsend.
"It's alive," Pee-wee shouted. "Is the party all over?"
"Oh, absolutely," Townsend called; "you closed it up. Have you got two or three salted almonds over there?"
"Sure," Pee-wee shouted reassuringly, "six or seven."
It was funny with what an air of humorous resignation Townsend Ripley stepped into the skiff and the mock air of ebbing vitality which the others showed was as good as a circus.
"You don't suppose it's some new kind of hunter's stew, do you?" said Townsend resignedly as he languidly took a pair of oars.
"You needn't think I'm coming ashore," called Pee-wee, "because I'm not. Now we've got a full patrol and we're going to live here. There's going to be a boat race next Saturday and I've got two new ideas besides the ones I told you about and I bet I had more fun than you did dancing and somebody's got to go ashore to-morrow and see this feller's mother and father and tell them he's joined the scouts, because he can't go home on account of not having four cigarettes."
Then the boys in the approaching boat could hear Pee-wee saying in a lowered voice to Keekie Joe, "Don't you be scared of them because they won't hurt you."
Thus began the famous Alligator Patrol, so named because its home was on the water as well as on the land, and also on the mud. Under its flaunting traffic sign many adventures occurred that summer, but the present narrative must be confined to the surprising events which befell during Easter vacation. Later, in the good old summer time, we shall visit the island again if we can find it.
It was a fortunate thing for Keekie Joe that Townsend Ripley was chosen leader of the new patrol. And it was a fortunate thing for everybody that Pee-wee was defeated by a large majority in the election of a camp cook. It is true that every voice was raised for Pee-wee in this stirring campaign when suddenly Townsend turned the traffic sign so it said STOP and that was the end of Pee-wee's chances. "Safety first," said Townsend.
Keekie Joe liked Townsend and felt at home with him. He admired and trusted him because in the beginning Townsend made a point of calling the fellows blokes and guys and talking about "dem t'ings."
"If yez want a guy ter lay keekie, I'll do it fer yez," Keekie Joe said.
"If we see any cops coming," said Townsend, "we'll turn the traffic sign on them and make them stop."
On Sunday morning, Townsend rowed ashore with Keekie Joe and invaded the tenement in Barrel Alley. He took a brand new package of cigarettes to Mr. Keekie Joe, Senior, and Keekie Joe, Junior, was struck dumb with awe at the familiar and persuasive way in which Townsend talked to his parent. The result of the interview was that Keekie Joe returned to the island on a week's furlough from his squalid home. The Barrel Alley gang, which was mobilized in front of Billy Gilson's tire repair shop, made catcalls at the stranger as the pair passed along and when they were some yards distant, several of them summoned Keekie Joe to their loitering conference.
"Hey, Keekie, come 'ere, I want ter tell yer sup'm," one called.
Keekie Joe hesitated and turned. It was a crucial moment in the history of the new patrol.
"Come on back, Keekie," another shouted.
Then it was that Slats Corbett, imperial head of the gang, did a good turn for the scouting movement. He picked up a half dry sponge which was lying in an auto wash pail and hurled it at Townsend Ripley. Without even turning, Townsend raised his hand, caught it, dipped it in the mud at his feet, and walking briskly back, smeared the face and head of the big ungainly bully, leaving him furious and dripping. Keekie Joe trembled at this rash exploit of his new friend and waited in fearful suspense for the sequel. It was not long in coming. With a roar of obscene invectives, Slats Corbett rushed upon the smiling, slim, quiet stranger, and then in the space of two seconds, there was Slats Corbett lying flat in the mud. In a kind of trance Keekie Joe heard a brisk, pleasant voice.
"Any of the rest of you want any? All right, come along, Joe."
And that really was the ceremony that made Keekie Joe a scout. It is true that they had a kind of formal initiation under the apple tree on Merry-go-round Island and gave him a badge and had him take the oath and so on and so on. And had him hold up his hand—you know how. But it was not when his hand went up that he became a scout. It was when Slats Corbett went down. That was the clincher.
And now the wandering career of Merry-go-round Island seemed at last to have ended and it roamed no more over the face of the waters. On the contrary, it settled down to a life of respectable retirement on Waring's reef.
Waring's reef was dry land at low tide, and even at high tide was close enough to the surface to support the trusty foundation of the fugitive isle. It stood exactly in the middle of the river at a spot where the stream was straight and comparatively wide, and commanded a fine view of the boat-house a mile or so downstream. There was more or less life down there during the ensuing week for the high school pupils made the place their own in the brief Easter vacation.
It was on Wednesday that a couple of high school boys chugged up in a little launch and were about to land when Pee-wee forbade them by turning the traffic sign upon them just as they were about to set foot on the island. The island had been on its good behavior now for four days and had not so much as turned an inch. It seemed to have found a satisfactory home at last.
"What do you call this thing, anyway?" one of the visitors asked.
"It's a desert island," said Pee-wee. "Can't you see what it is? Don't you know a desert island when you see one? Gee whiz, you're in high school, you ought to know a desert island when you see one. I know you," he added, addressing one of the visitors; "you're on the basket-ball team, your name is Chase, your first name is Wingate and you're all the time going around with Grove Bronson's sister and he's in the troop that I'm not in any more."
In the face of these unquestionable facts Wingate Chase was helpless; he could not do otherwise than admit his identity.
"We're going to have some events on Saturday," he said. "This fellow with me is from the Edgemere High School and——"
"He's going to get beaten," shouted Pee-wee; "because Bridgeboro High School can lick all the high schools around here, in athletics and debates and everything."
"That's all right, Kiddo," said the fellow from Edgemere High School.
"You bet it's all right," said Pee-wee.
"We were thinking we'd like to use your island," said Wingate Chase.
"You don't want to take it to Edgemere, do you?" Townsend Ripley asked. "We don't allow it to be taken from the premises. You may use it here if you care to."
"Find out what they want to use it for," shouted Pee-wee.
"What do you want to use it for?" Townsend asked.
"Tell them they'll have to pay for any damage they do to it," Pee-wee said.
"We just want to put a flag on it," Wingate Chase said.
"You mean you want to take possession of it?" Pee-wee demanded. "You mean you want to discover it?I'mthe discoverer of this desert island."
The fellow from Edgemere seemed rather amused at Pee-wee. "All we want to do," he said, "is to use it to beat the Bridgeboro High School in the rowing match. We just want to row around it. The two crews will start from the boat-house and race upstream and around this island and back. Now that won't hurt the island any, will it? In a few minutes it will be all over except the shouting."
"Shall we let them do it?" Pee-wee whispered to Townsend.
"Of course we'll want one of our referees to stay on the island during the races," said Wingate, "but he won't hurt anything. There'll be several races, a rowing race, a canoe race, a swimming race and so on; we haven't made up the program yet."
"Are you going to have any refreshments?" Pee-wee demanded.
"We don't allow refreshments on the island," said Townsend.
"Shall we let them do it?" Pee-wee asked.
"Positively," said Townsend; "I don't see how we can stop them, as long as they keep outside of the three mile limit. The referee won't do any harm. All he does is to see that the racing is fair as they round the limit."
"We're the limit, hey?" vociferated Pee-wee.
"You said it," laughed the fellow from Edgemere.
"All right," said Pee-wee, "you can do it."
It was not until the Alligator Patrol sat around their camp-fire that night that the possibilities of this participation in the athletic events began to unfold in the seething mind of our hero. He had stood somewhat upon his dignity with the committee because he did not want to hold the island too cheap in their eyes.
Moreover, though he was for Bridgeboro, once, last and always, his attitude was uniformly combative toward older boys, high school boys in particular, and toward high schools generally. He would be chary of the privileges he granted to these "big fellers" whom he knew so well how to "handle." But in the light of the camp-fire he saw visions of huge war profits in these impending combats. While Edgemere and Bridgeboro fought he would become a war millionaire. The little island, retired from its wild career at last and with a secure and fixed abode would still play an important part in world affairs.
"I tell you what we'll do," said Pee-wee; "we'll sell seats for people to see the races from the island. We'll build a couple of benches out of this old refreshment board—we'll drive stakes in the ground—and one of us will go to town—I mean the mainland—with a big sign telling people they can buy seats for ten cents—because in the boat races when Sir Thomas Lipton's yacht got beaten lots of people paid to go out on excursion steamers and this island is better than an excursion steamer, because they'll go right around the edge of it—right around the coast and everybody'll get a dandy view."
Thus it was that on Thursday and Friday there appeared in theBridgeboro Evening Recordan advertisement which read:
See the High School events on the river from Alligator Island, seats ten cents. Fine view of the races. Free transportation both ways. Alligator Island belongs to the boy scouts and is in the middle of the river, commanding a fine view because the boats go around it. Boat goes back and forth from Gilroy's field. Absolutely safe. Take the beautiful ride to Alligator Island and see the races for only ten cents. Children in arms if not accompanied by parents have to pay five cents.
It will be observed from the advertisement that Merry-go-round Island, alias the Isle of Desserts, was now masquerading under a new name, which had been given it in the hope of obliterating all memories of its wandering past.
Being now a respectable stay-at-home island, stuck fast with each part of its coast true to its proper compass point, what more natural than that its roving youth should be treated as a closed book by its owners? There it sat in the middle of the glinting river, its sturdy understructure reposing upon Waring's reef.
Even at low tide the shallow water rippled about it. At high tide the coy reef withdrew entirely within the briny deep, so that the unromantic and unsightly scow was not visible and the island stood in all its wild and floral beauty, a vision of picturesque delight for three or four hours each day at full tide. From the mainland (some thirty feet distant according to a piece of string) the yellow dandelions could be seen dotting its geometric coast and occasionally some drowsy turtle, with neck extended, was visible, sleeping in the sun.
The only historic memento of Minerva Skybrow's lawn party to be found upon the island now was the refreshment board, quite empty. It is true that an explorer, delving among the rocks and crevices, might have found some fugitive stuffed olive or perchance a lost nut or raisin here and there. But the feast of Dessert Isle was now a part of history. Minerva's little tent had been delivered to her (for Pee-wee could not eat that) and only the makeshift table which had supported the absconding repast remained.
This was now made into two long benches, supported by sticks driven into the ground. It was intended that the overflow from this grandstand should sit on the grass. These preparations completed, our hero, accompanied by Brownie and Billy, went ashore on Friday afternoon and edified the people on Main Street with an imposing display.
Pee-wee becomes a sandwich man.[Illustration: Pee-wee becomes a sandwich man.]
Pee-wee becomes a sandwich man.[Illustration: Pee-wee becomes a sandwich man.]
They paraded up and down the sidewalk wearing large placards, the most striking of which was the one that almost completely obscured the diminutive form of our hero. It was appropriately in the form of a sandwich of which he himself was the center, his head and legs protruding from it like the head and legs of a turtle. Its glaring announcement seemed to suggest the literary style of Townsend Ripley.
CUT RATE CRUISES TO ALLIGATOR ISLESEE THE WILD SCOUTS AND THE BOAT RACESENJOY A SEA VOYAGE IN THE PALATIAL ROWBOAT ALLIGATORROUND AND SQUARE TRIP TEN CENTS.SAILINGS FROM GILROY'S FIELD.
On Friday night it rained and the Alligators were driven into their tent. It rained all night and was still raining when the momentous Saturday dawned. They were compelled to eat breakfast in their tent, the top of which was plastered with apple blossoms so that the khaki-colored fabric looked not unlike a brown wall paper with a floral design.
The tide being out, the rain pattered down on the surrounding mud and shallow places, and the members of the patrol sat in the open doorway of their cozy little shelter wistfully gazing at the downpour, and watching the little holes that the raindrops made in the mud.
Each drop, like a bullet, drove a little hole in the oozy bottom, which slowly closed up again. Schools of darting killies hurried this way and that frantically seeking an avenue into the deeper places where puddles would afford them a haven during the lowest ebb. Rain, rain, rain.
On the porch of the boat-house a mile or so down-stream was gathered a group of young fellows, also watching wistfully. Through the intervening space of rain they seemed like pictures of spectres, misty and unsubstantial.
"The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide," said Townsend cheerily. "I think when it comes in it's going to stop raining, that's what I think. It's going to clear up and be warm this afternoon, you see. Rain before seven, clear before eleven. What do you say we catch some of those killies and fry them?"
"That's what you call an inspiration," said Roly Poly.
They caught some killies with a bent pin and fried them and they were not half bad.
Along about eleven o'clock the tide began running up, the killies which had not been lured to their undoing, disappeared in the swelling water, and soon the ripples danced up over the mud, submerging it entirely. The river began to be attractive again. And then the sun came out.
"This is going to be some peach of a tide for races," said Townsend; "it will be good and full after such an all night rain."
At two o'clock, when the river was about half full, a launch came chugging up from the boat club bringing a flag and the young fellow who was to be posted at the turning point. He planted the flag on its tall standard near the shore and settled down to mind his own business. Pee-wee received him as if he were a foreign ambassador.
Our hero was now so intent upon his commercial enterprise that he forgot all about the races except in their commercial aspect. The island was but the turning point for the contestants and seemed detached from the excitement and preparations which prevailed down at the club house.
Soon, along the shore, there began to be visible little groups of boys sprawling on the grass, waiting. The boat-house porch and the adjacent float were filled with high school pupils. They made a great racket, and from all the noise and bustle thereabouts the little island seemed removed, as if a part of the events and yet not a part.
Presently a little group of girls appeared at the edge of Gilroy's Field, which was the nearest point on the mainland to Alligator Island. They seemed to be looking about in a bewildered, inquiring sort of way. Evidently the advertising was bringing results. It seemed as if they might have banded together (as girls will) for the cut rate cruise which they had seen advertised. At all events they seemed to be strangers. Whoever they were, it spoke well for their adventurous spirit that they should wish to book passage to an unknown shore, when there were no others in sight who seemed the least interested in the voyage.
"Is that Alligator Island?" one of them called.
"It certainly is," Townsend answered. "I'll come over and get you; the boat is leaving right away."
"Have your fares ready," Pee-wee called in a voice of thunder.
As Townsend approached the mainland there was much whispering and giggling among the girls. "We came from Edgemere," said one of them; "we're in the Edgemere High School and we came over on the trolley to see the Bridgeboro High School beaten. We saw a small boy in the street with a sign——"
"That was me," shouted Pee-wee; "I saw you on Main Street. Have your fares ready and he'll bring you over. All aboard! All aboard to Alligator Island with its tropic vegetarians and boat races!" And, in his excitement and enthusiasm he added, "Step this way! Step right this way!"
"Did you ever hear of such a thing," laughed one girl.
"He means after you step out of the boat," said Townsend.
You would have thought that Pee-wee was selling desert islands out of a basket. He stood on the extreme edge nearest to the field, shouting, "Here you are, this way for your desert isle! See the tropic variations——"
"He means vegetation," said Townsend.
"He means fresh vegetables," called Brownie.
"Here you are for your fresh vegetables," Pee-wee shouted, hardly knowing what he said at this actual prospect of business which he saw before his very eyes. "The races encircle this island. Here you are for your best seats! Come early and avoid the rush!"
"That's the wild man of the island," Townsend said; "he's perfectly harmless: step right in the boat."
They were rowed over and escorted to seats, where they did not have to wait long, for scarcely were they settled on one long bench when a chorus of shouts arose down at the boat-house, as out into the river shot two canoes.
"Oh, they're coming! They'recoming!" the girls carolled in great excitement and anticipation.
"Oh, look! Dolook!" one of them said, clutching the shoulder of her neighbor. "He's in the red canoe! It's Willie Dawdle, and he's ahead!Hurrah for Edgemere! Oh, he'scoming, he'scoming! I knew we'dannihilatethem, I justknewit! Oh, it's simplyglorious!"
"Hurrah for Bridgeboro!" shouted Pee-wee.
"Hurrah for Edgemere!" shouted the girls.
The two canoes, with Edgemere a little ahead as well as they could see, came gliding up the river, two streaks, red and green, in the sunshine …
The canoe race, which was the first of the events, was also the best—as well as the last. Never was there wilder excitement on Pee-wee's island than when the green and red canoes glided northward, approaching the turning point.
The red canoe skilfully paddled by the Edgemere champion, Willie Dawdle, was some yards ahead and gaining rapidly and the girls from Edgemere High School could not contain themselves for joy. Among the Alligator Patrol, too, the excitement ran high and shout upon shout for Bridgeboro arose as Wingate Chase spurted to get the inner turn about the island. He gained fast now and as the distance between the two canoes shortened the air was rent with deafening yells for Bridgeboro.
The two contestants were abreast when suddenly amid the uproar could be heard a voice, a voice singularly matter-of-fact and sensible, uttering words which if not of excitement seemed at least pertinent to the occasion, "How are they going to go around that blamed thing when it's sailing up the river?"
Alas, it was too true. The most unusual development which could possibly complicate an athletic event had occurred; the turning point had deserted the race and was sailing majestically up the river. It had already sailed a hundred feet or so before the watchers on the mainland discovered the fact.
As for the striving contestants they were too intent upon the race to perceive the strange turn of affairs until the wild mirth upon the "mainland" apprised them of it. They must have looked funny enough from the shore frantically pursuing the fugitive turning post, and the unhallowed joy of the spectators was only increased by Pee-wee's heroic efforts in the emergency as with a long pole he strove to stay the progress of the recreant island. Failing in these herculean efforts, he still tried to save the day by shouting to the racers.
"Keep up!Keep up!" he yelled. "You can go around it. You're going faster than the island is.Don't give up! It makes it all the more exciting. It's like—like—like—kind of—like running up an escalator! Don't stop! Keep it up, it's an escalator race!"
It certainly made it "all the more exciting." As for the inhabitants of the island, they were carried away in more than one sense. Townsend lay flat upon the ground in a spasm of silent laughter. Several others of the new Alligator Patrol sat on the edge of the stern and rock-bound coast, their legs dangling in the water, and seemed in danger of falling in, so gymnastic was their merriment. As for the occupants of the grandstand, they probably thought (if they were able to think at all) that ten cents was a small price to pay for such an exciting race.
Only one occupant of the fleeing island was up and about and fully conscious. With his companions lying flat or doubled up and screaming so that the woods along shore echoed with their insane mirth, our hero stood amid the chaos, shouting to the racers at the top of his voice. They were almost abreast of him now, and laughing themselves, for the race had become a farce.
"Come on! Keep it up!" he shouted. "You can go around it while it's sailing just as good as if it were standing still! The race kind of stretches out like an elastic—it's an extensible race. Keep it up! Keep it up!"
"Don't," moaned Townsend from his place on the ground. "This is too much——"
"It isn't enough!" Pee-wee shouted. "The race is better because it's longer—it stretches out—it's an extensible race—I invented it——"
"What on earth is the cause of it?" laughed one of the girls.
"Extra—extra—ex—ex—ex—extra high tide caused by the r—r—rain," shrieked Townsend, hardly able to get the words out. "This is the cli—cli—climax of Eas—Eas—Easter vac—c—c—c—c—cation!"
Amid screams and catcalls from the shore an official launch came chugging up the course. By that time the two canoeists had given themselves up to laughter and sat shaking as their canoes drifted. Only the island continued merrily upon the flood tide.
"Called off?" somebody called from the shore.
"Certainly it's called off," said the official in the launch. "This was supposed to be a race, not a game of tag."
"Come on!Come on!" screamed Pee-wee from the departing isle. "Hurrah for Bridgeboro High! Come on, you can go around us! If a man can—listen, I've got a dandy argument—if a man can shoot a bird on the wing a race like that is just as good—you can encircle an island on the wing too!Come on!Come on! It's a new kind of a race! A lot of girls paid ten cents to see it! Come on, go around us!"
"Oh,gracious, goodness, we've had our money's worth," moaned one of the girls; "we're not complaining."
"It's like a movie play," screamed another.
"It's a very move—m—moving drama," stammered Townsend.
"And all for ten cents," said one of the girls.
"They're not coming!" Pee-wee shouted. "We won the race! We weren't in it but we won it anyway. That feller in the launch is crazy! It was a chase and a race all in one—it was a chase race—I invented it and he went and spoiled it all."
Time and tide wait for no man. Up the swelling river, out of the voice range of the hooting throng, farther and still farther from the madding crowd, sailed Turning Post Island, alias Merry-go-round Island, alias Isle of Desserts, alias Alligator Isle, alias The Earthly Paradise.
Other motor-boats, manned by astonished officials and bearing committees, chugged up to where the island had been and a flotilla of rowboats and canoes hovered thereabouts while their occupants inspected curiously the place where the official turning point with its crowded grandstand had been. But the official turning point had vanished, though the voice of our hero could still be heard up beyond Collison's bend.
And still Townsend Ripley lay prone and laughed and laughed and laughed.
"Your money will be refunded, of course," he managed to say to the several occupants of the grandstand. "You see we had a heavy rain all night and——"
"Oh, don'tspeakof returning our money," one of the girls laughed. "We really ought to pay youmore."
"We can't take any more," Pee-wee shouted. "You—you get the ride for nothing—it's thrown in—because I said free transportation and a scout has to keep his word. Even if we float miles and miles we can't take another cent——"
"We may be rovers but we're not profiteers," moaned Townsend.
"If—if we don't drift to shore by supper time," said Pee-wee, "you get your dinner too just like when an ocean steamer is delayed in a fog; they give you your dinner, so don't you worry because you're with scouts and when it gets to be six o'clock I'll make a hunter's stew."
At this there was a sudden noise as of horror and anguish and before our voyagers realized what was happening, Townsend Ripley had rolled off the island into the water.
"It's all right," Townsend sputtered as he crawled ashore. "I was just thinking of something sad; I feel better now. It was one of the finest races that I never saw."
"It would have been a good race," said Pee-wee with a frown indicative of withering scorn, "only they had to go and break it up.Just because we moved—do you call that an argument?Weought to get the silver cup, that's whatIthink. They could have—have—headed us off, couldn't they? The rule said they had to go around this flag, it didn't say anything about where the flag would be. That's a teckinality. Anyway, I'm glad we're rid of them."
"We seem to be making port," said Townsend. "I don't know just where we are. I think if we were to cut up through these woods—You girls want to get to the Edgemere trolley, I suppose?"
"That's the idea," said one of them.
"Well, then, let's see," Townsend ruminated.
"I'll take you to the trolley," Pee-wee shouted, as the island gave evidence of an intention to bunk into the east bank of the river. "Because I know how to find my way in the woods—scouts have to know all those things—I can tell by moss and hop-toads and things, which is east and west. I'll take you to the trolley. If we should get lost in the woods I know how to cook bark so you can eat it, only scouts don't get lost. So do you want me to take you to the trolley?"
Brownie was about to whisper his disapproval of this to Townsend but Townsend cut him short. "Let him do it," he said; "if he stays here he'll make a hunter's stew. We can put one over on him by cooking supper while he's gone. Safety first. If he goes ashore they may get lost, if he stays here we'realllost."
"True," said Billy.
"Absolutely correct," said Brownie.
"That's what you call an argument," said Roly Poly.
"It's a teckinality," said Nuts.
"Discoverer," said Townsend, "the patrol thinks that you are the proper one to escort our guests to the Edgemere trolley."
"Isn't that perfectlylovely!" said one of the girls.
"If the woods should wander away while you're in them," said Townsend, "send up a smoke signal and we'll come and rescue you. Don't hurry back, Discoverer; remember, these girls come first of all. We'll tie the island to a tree and have a game of mumbly peg. You'll find us here when you get back."
"Well," said Townsend, after he had securely fastened the island to shore by a piece of rope, "let's make hay while the sun shines and get supper. In an hour or so it may be too late. After all our adventures I feel that another hunter's stew——"
"If the island saw another hunter's stew it would run away," said Brownie.
"We've had quite a week of it, hey?" said Billy.
"Yes, I don't think I've ever been around so much in a week before," said Townsend; "I feel like a pinwheel."
"Or a top," said Brownie.
"Something like that," said Townsend. "Well, Joe, what do you think of us?" he added, sprawling on the ground as was his wont. The others began preparations for supper.
"How about some spaghetti?" Roly Poly asked. "Could you eat some spaghetti?"
"I might if I were coaxed," said Townsend. "How about you, Joe?"
Townsend had made it his religious duty all through that week to consult Keekie Joe about every meal, and indeed about everything that was to be done. He jealously saw to it that Joe had a voice in everything. Not that any of them denied Joe these rights, but Joe felt out of place among these strange boys and the boys sometimes forgot about him.
It was exactly like Pee-wee to drag poor Joe head over heels into scouting, and then forget all about him. It was exactly like Townsend Ripley to take the poor little hoodlum quietly in hand and be his friend and sponsor. He treated him always as an equal and as a comrade. What the others forgot, he remembered.
He agreed with Joe, or disagreed with him, as pals will agree and disagree. He always took him seriously. He allowed Joe to teach him to play craps and then said he didn't see much fun in it, and such was his magnetic power over poor Joe that Joe said he didn't see any fun in it either. And there was an end of it.
So it was with all the wretched hoodlum games and tricks that poor Joe had known; one by one they failed in the test, and he became ashamed of them. It is no wonder that Keekie Joe worshipped this keen, easy-going patrol leader, who seemed to be no leader at all. Even Pee-wee was sacrificed in the good cause and Townsend made fun of Pee-wee for Keekie Joe's amusement.
As they sprawled about the fire that Saturday night, the last night but one of their outlandish vacation, and ate spaghetti from tin platters, the trend of the talk showed somewhat the effects of the week's outing upon the poor little derelict of Barrel Alley.
"Seems good sitting here and not eating hunter's stew, doesn't it?" said Townsend in his funny way. "I never realized how much I enjoyed not eating hunter's stew. I shall always love hunter's stew for the pleasure it has given me when I didn't eat it. I suppose the Discoverer ought to be getting back pretty soon."
"Unless those girls took him to Edgemere," said Brownie.
"I don't think they'd do that, they spoke well of Edgemere," said Townsend.
"There's no telling where he'll drift to," said Nuts.
"Please don't talk about drifting," said Townsend. "The way I feel about drifting I don't ever want to look at a snow-drift. I can't even listen to the drift of a person's conversation. How aboutyou, Joe?"
"De Discov'r's all right," said Joe, loyally.
"I wouldn't say he's all right," said Townsend; "but when he's wrong he's at his best. That's whatIthink, Joe."
"He's always at his best," said Brownie.
"Except when he's at his worst," said Townsend, "and then he's best of all. That's logic, as he would say. I wonder what he'll bring back with him. Let's each guess; I guess a carpet sweeper. How aboutyou, Joe?"
Joe only smiled, but did not venture a guess.
"I guess an alarm clock and a headlight from an automobile," said Brownie.
"I guess part of a floor lamp—the shade part," said Billy.
"I guess—I guess," said Nuts; "let's see—I guess some chicken wire, part of a typewriter machine and a megaphone."
"You're all wrong and I'm right as you usually are," said Townsend; "he will bring back——"
"Let's go in swimming," said Brownie.
"Good idea," said Townsend. "Joe, I'm going to teach you to swim."
Now it was right then that Keekie Joe said something which surprised them all. And it was just that little remark which showed the effects of the week's outing upon his simple mind. He had certainly not received any particular training or instruction; he had been in some measure a participant but mostly a bashful and amused witness of his companions' adventures and a silent listener to their talk.
He had heard them all speak of their parents and of how this or that plan might be approved or disapproved at home. He had heard them discuss whether their parents would probably expect them home on Sunday night or early Monday morning. Perhaps it was not a sense of dutiful obedience, but rather a certain budding pride in the bosom of Keekie Joe, which caused him to make the remark which surprised them.
He would let them know that he too had a parent, though no one had thought to speak of his parents. If he could not have clothes like them at least he could have obligations like them. Perhaps the true spirit of obedience was not in him. But the point is that the poor little wretch had discovered a certain pride within himself and wished to boast of a restraint which a week previously he would have ignored. He too had someone who was interested in his goings and comings. So he said,
"Me mudder sez I dasn' go swimmin' widout she leaves me."
It was strange how Keekie Joe, who had disregarded his poor mother's wishes on so many occasions, should present her now to his new friends. He did not have any of the things which they had, bicycles, tents, cooking sets, radio sets; but one thing he had as well as they, a mother. And so he used her as they used theirs. He played her as his only card.
"Me mudder sez I dasn' go swimmin' widout she leaves me."
"Good for you, Joe," said Townsend, "I'll see your mother next week and fix it.And you do just what she told you to do till then. You've got the right idea, Joe." And he hit Joe a good rap on the shoulder in his friendly way …