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[Illustration: THE CAPTAIN STOOPED AND LIFTED HER IN HIS ARMS.
"The Girl Scouts at Sea Crest." Page 161]
THE GIRL SCOUTS AT SEA CREST
OR
_The Wig Wag Rescue_
By LILIAN GARIS
Author of
"The Girl Scout Pioneers," "The Girl Scouts
at Bellaire," etc.
_ILLUSTRATED_
NEW YORK
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
THE GIRL SCOUT SERIES
By LILIAN GARIS
Cloth. 12mo. Frontispiece.
THE GIRL SCOUT PIONEERS,
Or, Winning the First B. C.
THE GIRL SCOUTS AT BELLAIRE
Or, Maid Mary's Awakening
THE GIRL SCOUTS AT SEA CREST
Or, The Wig Wag Rescue
* * * * *
_Other volumes in preparation_
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, NEW YORK
COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
THE GIRL SCOUTS AT SEA CREST
Printed in U. S. A.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. SAME OLD OCEAN 1
II. THE BOTTLED WARNING 11
III. A COUPLE OF FREAKS 19
IV. MARGARET-BY-THE-DAY 25
V. CAPTAIN DAVE 32
VI. CRABS AND DISASTER 42
VII. A DIFFICULT SITUATION 51
VIII. AT WEASEL POINT 58
IX. THE FIRE AT THE PIER 67
X. PLANNING FOR ACTION 75
XI. AT THE COLONNADE 83
XII. ON THE SANDS 91
XIII. A BLANKET OF FOG 102
XIV. ABOARD THE BLOWELL 113
XV. STRANDED 123
XVI. THE BAREFOOT GIRLS 132
XVII. A RELIC FROM THE ALAMEDA 144
XVIII. THE WIG WAG RESCUE 155
XIX. THE GLORIOUS AFTERMATH 165
XX. A REVELATION 176
XXI. ON LUNA LAND 187
XXII. A COMEDY OF THE ROCKS 196
XXIII. SCOUTS EVERY ONE 204
THE GIRL SCOUTS AT SEA CREST
CHAPTER I
SAME OLD OCEAN
THREE girls stood on the beach watching the waves--the tireless,
endless, continuous toss, break, splash; toss, break, splash! Always the
same climbing combers smoothly traveling in from eternity, mounting
their hills to the playful height of liquid summits, then rolling down
in an ocean of foam, to splash on the beach into the most alluring of
earth's play toys--the breakers.
"And we thought the baby mountain at Bellaire beautiful--why this ocean
is--well, it is simply bigger and grander than anything I have ever
dreamed of," declared Grace. "No wonder the girls out in Chicago long to
spend a summer at the sea shore."
"I couldn't even find a word to describe it," admitted Cleo. "Doesn't it
look like eternity all spilled out?"
"And the roll is like the origin of noise," suggested Grace. "Now,
Weasie, what do you see that looks like--like the original public
service telephone company, or the first gas and electric plant? Don't
you think those glints of color and sparks of foam may be our first
sulphur springs?"
"I never could claim a poetic imagination," admitted Louise, known to
her chums as Weasie, "but I might see a family resemblance there
to--well--to a first-class Turkish bath. There! How the mighty hath
fallen! From the origin of noise and eternity spilled out, down to a
mundane yet highly desirable Turkish bath! And girls, mine is the only
practical description, for a bath it is to be, ours for all summer! Can
you imagine it?"
"And smell the salt?" prompted Cleo. "Since you insist on being
practical, no use talking about the aroma of the gods, or the incense of
the mermaids. Weasie, I see you are going to keep us down to earth; and
I guess you are right. Essays are better in school than done orally on a
beautiful beach. But really isn't it overwhelming?"
"I'll admit that much," replied Weasie. "But you see, I have had a
glimpse of the beach before. I vacationed here for one week. Then I have
been to Atlantic City in winter. That's simply wonderful. But you little
Westerners, all the way from Pennsylvania," and she laughed at the
idea, "you, of course, have only seen good old Lake Erie. Yes, girls,
this is the ocean. Meet Madame Atlantic," with a sweeping gesture toward
the ocean. "But look out! That's how Madame Atlantic meets us! Just look
at my pumps!"
A vengeful wave had crept in and deliberately splashed the three pairs
of new summer pumps, before the girls realized they were being
surrounded.
"Well, of all things!" exclaimed Grace. "How did that wave get in
without us seeing it? And we standing right there watching it! My shoes
are simply done for," and she looked about for a place to sit down and
dump out some of the damage.
"That's the way with waves," explained Louise, who now stood sponsor for
the ocean and its habits. "You never can tell just what a wave will do."
"I see," said Cleo, trying to plough through the heavy sand without
burying the soaking wet slippers. "I suppose we may call this our
initiation. Changing time at Pittsburg is nothing to changing pumps at
Sea Crest. Let's to it."
"And salt water is ruinous to leather. I know that much," declared
Grace. "Weasie, you should have told us to leave our shoes on land and
come into the sands barefoot. I suppose that's why all the picture
dancers are barefoot on the sands; it's so hard on slippers. There's a
barrel. Let's anchor that and divest ourselves. Did you ever see dry
land so far away? This sand is as bad as water to plough through."
"Knocks the poetry out of it, doesn't it?" teased Louise. "But don't
let's mind. What are mere pumps to all this?"
They reached the barrel which had been washed up on the beach and was
quite securely embedded in the sand. On this the three chums took refuge
from the ocean water and sea of sand, while they attempted to wring out
their soaking socks and hang them on some brush to dry.
"This is such a lovely big barrel," commented Cleo. "Let's sit here, and
while our wash dries we can tell marine stories. Grace, you had better
put your pumps up farther. That island may be washed away with the next
wave."
"I guess I will," agreed Grace. "It seems to me this old ocean knows we
are greenies the way it tantalizes us. Now there!" and she placed the
two black slippers much farther up from the line marked by the incoming
tide. "I hope the next set of waves will be polite enough to keep their
distance. Come on to the barrel and let's hear about Madaline. Why
couldn't she come down?"
They adjusted themselves again on the great cask, and Cleo proceeded to
narrate the details of her recent letter from their chum, Madaline.
"Her folks are going to travel this summer so we can't have our little
roly-poly Madaline with us," she explained. "Of course, we shall miss
her, but we are going to have Mary. Her rich relations are coming down
to the Colonade."
"To that immense gold-and-white hotel over there!" exclaimed Grace.
"Then we shall have wonderful times visiting her. And we can see all the
dances and masquerades--I suppose they have a very gay season at a hotel
like that."
"I saw a circular announcing the opening on the fifteenth," said Louise.
"Perhaps Mary will be down then and we may be invited."
"I smell fire," interrupted Cleo, "and there isn't a streak of smoke in
sight. Wonder where it can be?"
"I am sure that _is_ fire somewhere," declared Grace. "Where _can_ it
be!" and she too sniffed the odor of smoke.
"Oh my!" exclaimed Louise, jumping up and dragging her chums with her.
"We are on fire! See, it is in the barrel!"
"And my skirt is burned!" declared Grace. "Just see!" exhibiting a
singed hole in her blue serge skirt.
"However did a fire start in there?" questioned Cleo. "Let's see."
But there was no need of investigation, for scarcely had they jumped
from their places when a sheet of flame shot out from the open end of
the otherwise innocent looking cask.
"Land sakes!" declared Louise. "We were lucky not to be blown up. How
did that start with no one in sight to start it?"
"Maybe we touched off a fuse," suggested Cleo jokingly.
"No, I'll tell you," offered Grace. "When we sat on the barrel we shut
out the wind from the side, all but enough to create a draft; and the
paper must have been smoldering. Now, just look at our perfectly good
seat turned into a beach fire! We had better rescue our socks. Maybe
those sticks will explode under them, next thing we know."
"Oh, just look here!" called Cleo. "See what I just kicked up! It's a
bottle and has a note in it! Maybe it's a warning from the firebug," she
finished, dragging from the sand a bottle and proceeding to pull out the
paper which had been carefully wound with a cord, the end of which was
brought out at the cork. Cleo promptly let the cork pop, yanked the
string, and so dislodged the note.
"I knew it," she exclaimed, "a message from the pirates. Listen to
this!"
Grace and Louise hopped back to hear the contents of the rolled slip of
paper.
"Short enough," commented Cleo. "It simply says, 'Beware of the
fire-bug' and it's signed 'The Weasle'. Well, I never! Beware of the
fire-bug," she repeated, "and not a human in sight that fire-bug fires.
And signing himself the Weasle! Must be pretty snappy. Well, I say
girls, as early as we thought we were getting down, before all the other
schools were dismissed, the little old fire-bug got here first. What do
you make of it?"
"Maybe some one comes in by boat from some island, and leaves the fires
to start up with a clock signal, like they do it in the movies,"
suggested Grace.
Louise and Cleo laughed the idea to scorn.
"Can you imagine an island in the ocean?" asked Louise. "And just look
at the writing of this note! It is a perfectly modern school hand. Some
small boy I suppose, who has been reading too much Captain Kidd. At any
rate let us be glad we didn't burn up more skirts, although it is too
bad to spoil that splendid new serge, Grace," she finished,
commiserating with the girl who was just then judging the size of the
hole burnt in her skirt by trying to view the sun through it.
"Oh, perhaps I can fix it," speculated Grace. "It's a very nice round
hole, and I may cover it with a patch pocket, though it would be rather
low down to trust my wealth to it. However, it is all right. And the
fire will finish drying our socks and pumps. And also, we have something
to remember in our first beach fire. I have often read of them. They
usually toast potatoes and things in the fires, don't they?"
"Marshmallows," corrected Louise, quite well informed on beach lore.
"We'll have a marshmallow roast when enough of the girls come down. But
it is nice to get here first and find everything out. When the other
schools close next week I suppose we won't be able to find one another,
with the crowds that will flock to this beach. And just now we have it
all to ourselves," she finished, looking up and down the vast expanse of
territory known as the ocean front, and therefore quite as extensive as
the stretch of the ocean itself.
"All the same," insisted Grace, smoothing again the rolled slip of paper
which Cleo had handed over. "I believe this is written by someone----"
"We all do," interrupted Cleo with a smile.
"I mean some one who is a firebug!"
"Oh, come now," teased Louise. "I don't believe you are as sensational
as that, Grace. Firebugs don't grow in the ocean, like crabs. Just see
that funny crab trying to get in your slipper. You don't suppose he can
write notes, and start fires, do you?"
"And here's another sort of monster," called Cleo, who was poking in the
sand near the edge. "I believe this fellow could do most anything if he
had the tools. Just look! Isn't he horrid looking?"
"Ugh!" exclaimed Grace, "I'm glad I never eat fish!"
"That's a skate," explained Louise. "No one eats that sort of fish.
Isn't he ugly?" and a determined thrust with her beach stick (a piece of
bamboo salvaged from the drift wood), sent the dead monster out into the
deep.
"If I had a pencil, I would put an answer to that letter in the bottle,"
proposed Cleo. "We might get a lot of fun out of it."
"And we might also get a visit from friend fire-bug," cautioned Grace.
"And I don't know whether our cottage is insured or not. But I do know
it has lovely furniture and mother says it's a perfect joy to come into
a house, all spick and span without having to do the spicking. No, Cleo,
please don't invite the Weasle to call."
"I have a tiny dance card pencil," offered Louise. "Let's write a note
just for fun. Of course, no one will ever find it."
Cleo ran up the sand to the board walk where bits of paper could be seen
flying in the early summer breeze. She returned, presently, with a piece
suitable for their pirate message.
"Let's write a scary answer," she proposed. "Here, I'll say 'Wild
Weasle, take heed! We have seen your sign and will return for
vengeance!' Signed 'The Pirates!' There!" she concluded. "If any
fire-bug finds that maybe he will take heed. Where's the bottle?"
Louise produced the erstwhile soda water container, and into this the
girls' letter was poked, with the poke-string left out at the cork, as
per sample.
"We're beginning early," said Cleo. "Louise, I'm glad you know the
beach. You may save us from disaster, although we have had so many
experiences first out at Flosston, then last summer at Bellaire. I
suppose, like trouble, adventure is bound to come to those who seek it.
Now, we are all ready. Have the right shoes on the right feet, have
buried our Pirate Threat, and so let's go back home. I'm just crazy to
show you the love of a cottage we have."
"I thought ours was the very prettiest," said Grace, "but we shall
inspect yours first, Cleo. Then look at mine, and if Louise-----"
"Certainly, I want you to come over and see my sleeping porch. I hardly
believe there is one prettier here. Come along."
"We should have called out the department," said Cleo. "Just fancy them
extinguishing that hole in your skirt, Grace!"
And the romp from the beach echoed with their merry laughter for all
could vision Grace under the fire hose!
"This way to the Log Cabin!" announced Cleo leading her friends from the
boardwalk along the Avenue to her quaint summer home. "Now, for our
first inspection!"