"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.



CHAPTER XXX

ABSENCE MAKES THE ISLAND QUIET

"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? We ought to get the silver cup, that's what I think. 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're all lost."

"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 perfectly lovely!" 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 about you, 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 what I think, 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 about you, 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 . . .



CHAPTER XXXI

A PROMISE

When he had put the racing fans on the Edgemere trolley, Pee-wee, like Jack ashore, betook himself into Bridgeboro to have his fling before returning to the ship. The habit of sailors home from long voyages is well known, and we need not be surprised to find him bending his steps toward Bennett's Fresh Confectionery, where he climbed onto one of the stools before the soda fountain.

He had just consumed a raspberry ice cream soda and was considering the question of whether he should have another when he noticed somebody which reminded him of the doom which awaited him on Monday morning. This was Miss Carlton who taught in the Bridgeboro Public School. She had just consummated the purchase of a box of candy and such were the cordial relations between herself and Pee-wee (out of school) that she proffered him the box for a choice of its contents.

"I don't know whether to take a chocolate one or a white one," Pee-wee said.

"Why not take both?" she suggested.

"I guess maybe that would be safest, hey?" he said.

"And what have you been doing all week?" Miss Carlton asked.

"I've been at sea," Pee-wee said; "I've been floating around on a desert island that's on a scow and this is the first day I came ashore. I started a new patrol and Keekie Joe is in it. He's in your class, isn't he?"

"He is—sometimes," said Miss Carlton ruefully.

"He goes on the hook a lot, doesn't he?" said Pee-wee.

"Oh, lots and lots," said Miss Carlton; dubiously.

"But anyway, don't you care," said Pee-wee, "because now he's a scout and he'll go to school every day, because a scout's honor has to be trusted. Do you know what was in that white one? Kind of lemon like."

"Won't you have another?"

"Brown and white are our patrol colors," said Pee-wee. "We just started our new patrol."

"Take a brown one and a white one," said Miss Carlton.

"I bet you don't know the name of our new patrol. It's the Alligators."

"I think that's a good name for Joe McKinny," said Miss Carlton; "he's so slow coming to school."

"I can prove you're wrong about him," said Pee-wee, "because alligators don't go to school and——"

"Won't you have another, Walter?"

"One for good measure, hey?" said Pee-wee. "Anyway, how much do you want to bet he won't go to school now? Because he will, because scouts have to do what they're supposed to do and I bet you he'll——"

"Another, Walter?"

"I'll take a pink one this time. I bet you he'll go to school and be all right on account of starting to be a scout. I got some money for grandstand seats on our island to see the boat races and I'll treat you to a soda."

"Thank you," laughed Miss Carlton, "but I think not now."

Miss Carlton knew Pee-wee well enough (for he had been in her class) not to inquire particularly about his multifarious adventures. She knew that they were too numerous and complicated for casual recital. Nor had she any faith in the influence of scouting on Keekie Joe. She did not believe that any power in the world could tempt Keekie Joe to school on a Monday, because Keekie Joe's partiality to liberal week ends was well known to her.

"Well, I only hope it will do him some good,"; said Miss Carlton dubiously.

"You mean scouting? Sure it will. You just wait and see. So long, maybe I'll see you on Monday."

"Won't you have one more?" the tempter urged.

Pee-wee hesitated. "I'll take a cocoanut one," he said, "because they're small. So long, I'll see you later."

Thus it was that when Pee-wee went back to the island, he did take something with him which was not named in the guessing of his friends. It was the heavy responsibility which he bore to make scouting good in the eyes of Miss Carlton. His promise, made at the altar of Bennett's candy counter and solemnized by a dozen assorted dainties, must be fulfilled.

He found his friends sprawling around their dying campfire on the island. Townsend was lying on his back as usual, his hands clasped behind his head, his eyes fixed on the quiet stars. Crowds thronged the main street of Bridgeboro on that Saturday night but the island lay peacefully against the shore of the wood skirting the river and the town might have been a hundred miles on for all the campers could tell.

"Well, we've had quite a week," said Townsend; "and now that we're started I hope we'll stick together and make a real, honest-to-goodness patrol. Joe is with us to the last ditch—out for the second rate badge——"

"You mean the second class badge," Pee-wee thundered.

"Brownie is going to be steward or whatever you——"

"Don't talk about stew," said Billy.

"Pardon me, my fault," said Townsend, "only I'd like to rise to remark while I'm lying here that I think we're going to make a pretty nifty patrol. Joe wouldn't go in swimming on account of his mother; couldn't force him to it, so there you are."

"And he's going to school Monday," said Pee-wee; "because I met his teacher in the—the—eh—the store."

"Candy store?"

"How did you know?" Pee-wee gasped.

"Just an inspiration," said Townsend.

"And I told her he's going to school every single day after this," said Pee-wee. "So are you?" he demanded of Keekie Joe.

"Posilutely he is, if not more so," said Townsend. "Every day except Saturday. He's even willing to eat hunter's stew and a fellow that will do that doesn't mind school; he can stand anything. How about that, Joe?"

"I gotta do what you sez," said Joe.

"There you are," said Townsend. "What more do you want? We're all going to school because the school won't come to us. So now let's tell riddles till we get tired of hearing each other talk and then we'll turn in. And we'll camp here all day to-morrow and to-morrow night, and the next day-school."

"I know a riddle," shouted Pee-wee. "Why is a stu——"

"Stop!" shouted Townsend.

"I was going to ask a riddle about a stu——"

A chorus of protest drowned his voice.

"A stu—" he roared, "debaker. It's a riddle about a Studebaker car!"

"Let's tell Ford stories!" shouted Brownie.

"I know a lot of them!" shouted Pee-wee.

"Why is this island like a Ford car?" Townsend asked.

"Why?"

"What's the answer?"

"Because there are a lot of nuts on it," said Townsend. "Why is Scout Harris like a Ford? Because he's small but makes a lot of noise. Horrible! Here's a better one. Why is——"

"I know one! I know one!" shouted Pee-wee.

"Let's see if we can catch some eels," said Townsend.



CHAPTER XXXII

VENGEANCE

On Sunday night they turned in for their last sleep on the island. That the island had proved a quitter on two momentous occasions had not prejudiced them against it. With all its faults they loved it still. The only thing they had against it was that it would not remain still.

Though it was small and of an unromantic squareness, it seemed the center of a vast empire during the week which was now ending and they were sorry at the thought of leaving it. But at least the Alligator Patrol was started and, like the island itself, nothing could stop it.

The night was chilly so they slept in the tent. So profound was their sleep that they did not hear the dipping oars of an approaching boat which came down the river after midnight. This boat was dilapidated and leaky but it was a vision of beauty compared to its occupants. These were none other than Slats Corbett, imperial head of Barrel Alley, and his official staff, consisting of Skinny Mattenburg and Spider McCurren. Such nocturnal excursions were not uncommon with them.

Nor were they surprised to see the new habitat of their official sentinel bobbing against the wooded shore. Indeed, some tidings of Joe's adventurous career (since he had run away to sea) had penetrated to Barrel Alley and the only thing which had prevented the alleyites from making an assault upon the island was the presence there of Townsend Ripley. Him they had come to regard with a kind of superstitious awe because he was so precipitate and decisive.

The fact that he had allowed no time for preliminary threats and profanity, rather baffled these hoodlums. He had a quaint way of cutting out all the customary boasts and menaces preceding an encounter, and going straight to the heart of the matter.

Therefore, Slats Corbett did not undertake anything in the way of a belligerent and retaliatory enterprise now. But he could not pass the sleeping campers without in some way registering his mortal enmity, so he did something which was altogether characteristic of him. He rowed very quietly along shore and untied the rope with which the little island was moored. Even this unheroic thing he did in fear and trembling, for the spirit of Townsend Ripley seemed to pervade the quiet spot. Then the trio proceeded quietly down the river in the darkness.



CHAPTER XXXIII

KEEKIE JOE, SCOUT

The first one to awake in the morning was Keekie Joe. Going to school on Monday was such an unusual thing with him that he had awakened at five o'clock, and had not been able to go to sleep again. He had a strange, nervous feeling as if he might be going to his own wedding.

The school would look strange on a Monday. Ordinarily after a week's vacation he would have taken both Monday and Tuesday. But now, strange to say, he wanted to go to school. He wanted to do what the rest of them did. Oh, no, he was not a new boy all made over, he was just poor little Keekie Joe, but he was going to do what the rest of them did that day . . .

He now discovered, to his surprise, that the island was in the middle of the river. It had, in fact, started drifting downstream on the ebbing tide, and had caught again on Waring's reef, the scene of its recent exploit. It would stick there for some hours now, at least, for the tide was running out.

Keekie Joe looked all about him, then stole cautiously to the tent and looked within. His friends were sleeping soundly. He withdrew from the tent and looked about again. The island was about a mile farther downstream than where it had been moored.

Looking down the river, Keekie Joe could see the boat-house, and the gilt ball on top of the flagpole shone dazzling in the early sunlight. The shores and river seemed fresh and new and clean, bathed in the growing light of the new day.

For a minute it seemed to Keekie Joe as if he were a sentinel again, "layin' keekie" while his friends slept. In the trees along shore the birds were already chirping, a merry fish (that did not have to go to school) flopped out of the water and went splashing into the dim coolness again, from very excess of joy, as it seemed. Perhaps he had just looked out to see what kind of a day it was going to be. In the field on the farther shore from town stood several cows, like statues of contentment.

Suddenly, Keekie Joe remembered that Pee-wee's palatial cruising boat Alligator had been drawn, not up on the shore of the island but up on the shore nearby. Therefore, it was not at the island now. It was a mile upstream, drawn up under a willow tree at the edge of the woods. Keekie Joe scanned the shore as far as he could see, but he could not discover any sign of it. However, he knew where it was.

He wondered how his friends and he would get to shore to go to school. He knew they could swim, but they would get their clothes soaked and could not go to school in such condition. Poor Keekie Joe! It never occurred to him that some boys have two suits of clothes, and that his dripping friends might go home and change their clothes before going to school.

Keekie Joe knew (or at least thought) that this situation would become serious when school time neared. He was anxious to know what time it was. You see, Joe was not a regular full-fledged scout and he could not tell time by the sun nor by forty-eleven other ingenious means known to Scout Harris.

His whole standing capital now was a knowledge of how to swim, and a dawning consciousness that scouting meant helping people and all that sort of thing. Thanks to a long course of disobedience to his poor mother, he had learned to swim like a water rat. He had had somewhat the advantage of other boys in this respect for he had gone swimming Mondays when they were in school.

But he could not determine even approximately what time it was and he had no watch. He knew that it was early, but he also knew that a mile was a long distance, especially against the tide.

Then it occurred to him that he might steal ever so cautiously into the tent and carefully, ever so carefully, pull Townsend's watch out from under his rough pillow and find out just what time it was. Keekie Joe had heard some wonderful stories about stalking; from all accounts rendered by Pee-wee that scout of scouts had hoodwinked every creature in the animal kingdom, stealing up behind them unawares, and subjecting every variety of bird to nervous prostration.

But Keekie Joe decided not to try his skill at this kind of stalking. For one thing, he had never touched a gold watch before and the thought of it awed him. And for another thing, if Townsend should awake and catch him in the act he would think that his protege was trying to steal his watch . . .



CHAPTER XXXIV

THE STORY CLOSES AND SCHOOL OPENS

Keekie Joe could not trust himself in any such stalking exploit and he had no standing capital of good reputation with which to verify his honorable intention in case his bungling hand should slip. He had as good as promised Townsend that he would not go swimming. But also these boys all had to go to school.

I am not saying what I think he should have done; I am simply telling you what he did. He slid silently into the water with his rags clinging to him and started swimming up the river against the ebbing tide. He had a simple, short-sighted, one-track mind. It never occurred to him that by undressing he might return and don his dry clothes again, such as they were. He had always gone in swimming with his rags on and he was his own clothesline; they dried upon his back.

In the water, Keekie Joe was at his best. He swam to shore like a little devil. Then, with all his might and main, he ran northward through the woods keeping close to the shore. This necessitated his swimming through mud and marshy places. But he hurried on, soaked, weary, panting. He was a horrible sight when he reached the boat, dripping with mud, his flesh torn by brambles, his ragged clothing plastered to his poor little form like wall-paper.

He was not good at rowing but fortunately all he had to do was to guide the old punt while the tide carried it down. And so he brought the old boat to the island and pulled it well up on the shore, and tied it with a rope. Then panting, dripping, he groped his way to the tent and looked within. They were all still sleeping peacefully.

Keekie Joe had no change of clothing either on the island or anywhere else. Going to school was out of the question now; he was too saturated and filthy. Why should he remain on the island? He felt that he could not face Townsend Ripley after breaking the promise he had made him not to go in swimming. Poor Keekie Joe, his eyes were so full of mud that he could not see the glory of that broken promise!

"Yez cin all go ter school," he said. Then, with as much fear and stealth as if he were running away from the police he crept into the water again and started for shore. He bent his course as nearly as he could for the end of Barrel Alley which abutted on the river. Soon he would be back in the yard of Billy Gilson's tire repair shop and could rest. His little sojourn in Fairyland had been a wonderful thing . . .