IT PAYS TO ADVERTISE
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're _coming_!" the girls carolled in great
excitement and anticipation.
"Oh, look! Do _look_!" 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's _coming_, he's _coming_! I knew we'd
_annihilate_ them, I just _knew_ it! Oh, it's simply _glorious_!"
"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 . . .