A DIFFICULT SITUATION
"WHERE shall we take him?" asked Grace in dismay.
"To the landing," replied Cleo, who still rowed with Margaret, while
Julia clung to the stern of the boat in horror.
The boy looked so lifeless! Could he be dead?
As he lay there his delicate features seemed more than death-like; they
seemed dead!
"Oh, mercy, do hurry!" pleaded Grace. "Let me help you pull," she asked,
getting hold of Margaret's oar.
The small boat was now over crowded, and it was with difficulty the
girls managed to give the boy sufficient room.
"Can't we call any one?" suggested Julia.
"Not any one in sight now," replied Louise. "We spent more time than we
imagined. See, it is sun down."
"But what made him go like that?" Margaret whispered. "He had only been
in the water a few minutes."
"Maybe the fright," said Cleo, noticing how high the lad's forehead was,
and with what evident care he had been dressed. His glasses were still
on, and the sunset made ghostly shadows on his face.
"I'm so glad he didn't topple over when I touched his boat," said
Louise. "I should have thought it all my fault, if he had."
"Nonsense," replied Grace. "He was bound to fall overboard. He did not
seem to know he was on the water. But isn't it too bad there is no one
around to call? Every one is gone now."
They rowed as vigorously as their young arms could serve the strokes,
and it took but a few moments to get out in a straight line for the
pier.
As the girls came within hailing distance of the dock the captain there,
seeing something was wrong, hurried to the steps to meet them.
"What's this? What happened?" he asked.
"He fell overboard. Oh, please hurry to revive him," pleaded Julia. "He
looks so death-like."
Leaning over the boat the man picked the frail boy up in his arms and
carried him up the pier as quickly as it was possible to do so.
"He moved. Look!" called Julia. "See, he is moving! Oh, I am so glad he
is not dead."
"He could hardly have died," replied Louise, thus reassuring her nervous
companions. "Still, I am glad to see he does move. Do you think we
should follow them up there?"
"Oh, see the crowd gathering," exclaimed Margaret. "We can't do anything
to help. Let's row out and bring in his boat. We would attract a lot of
foolish attention up there."
This was considered the best plan, and without being noticed the girls
pulled out again, and only watched the excitement from the distance.
Presently they heard an automobile start off from the pier and at this
the crowd was seen to disperse.
"I guess they are taking him home in a car," said Cleo. "Dear me, do you
suppose it was our fault that he fell overboard?"
"Why, no indeed," protested Margaret. "But we saved him. He might easily
have been lost if we hadn't. Somehow he seemed half asleep. He might
have really been sleeping. Boys often do that while out rowing."
They managed to catch the drifting boat, and Grace got in this to row.
As she did so she could not help observing a number of folded slips of
yellow paper that lay tossed aside, in the bottom of the boat. But Grace
had no thought of scrutinizing them. Somehow such an act would seem like
spying.
Briskly both boats were now rowed back to the landing. No one was near,
and when the scouts turned in their oars and paid for their boat, only
a boy was at the stand.
"Was he hurt?" asked Cleo eagerly.
"Oh no, just scared. He's all right," replied the boy handing out some
change.
"Who is he?" asked Grace frankly.
"Oh, a chap that lives at the Point--don't know his name. He's awful
quiet and queer--just reads his eyes out--no wonder he wears goggles,"
finished the clerk, turning to pop a soda for a waiting customer.
The girls breathed easier. Somehow they were each conscious of a dread,
and the boy's report had dispelled it as if by magic.
"Oh, say!" he called after them as they were moving away. "Are you the
girls who rescued him? Well, he especially warned me to get your names?"
This was in question.
"But we shouldn't like to have him bother thanking us," returned Cleo,
as spokesman. "We only did a scout duty."
"Oh yes, that's so. You're scouts. Aren't you? I'm a scout too, but we
haven't any girls' troop around here. Wish you would start one."
"We may," assented Margaret. "But did you talk to the boy after he
revived? Was he perfectly all right?" she questioned pointedly.
"Guess so, but he's a queer chap. Can't tell whether he's all right or
all wrong, he's such a stick. Excuse me, here's where I sell a real
order," and he hurried over to an old lady who was vainly trying to shut
an obstinate parasol.
Again the girls turned away, and the clerk had not fulfilled his promise
to get their names; neither had they obtained the name of the stricken
boy.
"But I feel a lot better," admitted Cleo. "Somehow, it isn't nice to see
a boy as still as he was."
"I should say not," added Grace. "And I couldn't help thinking of Benny.
I've never seen him still in his life, but I don't ever want to see him
as quiet as that. And say, girls--" and she drew as many of them to her
as her arms would reach, "the bottom of that boat was full of _yellow_
paper rolls!"
"He couldn't be the fire-bug!" protested Louise.
"I don't believe he could either," went on Grace, now really serious.
"But I thought I ought to mention about the papers."
"And the boat man's boy said he lived over on the island," mused Cleo.
"I'm glad we got out of leaving our names. He might come around to thank
us--and he might carry--a torch!"
This sally revived the girls' spirits to the extent of producing the
first laugh they had enjoyed since the accident; and to demonstrate the
possible torch bearing, Cleo paraded on ahead with a long stick
up-raised, while Grace and Louise followed with the crabs squirming in
their basket.
"Now, we shall divide the spoils," said Margaret, when the town was
reached, and the group should separate for their respective cottages.
"How many are there?" queried Cleo.
"Any one may have my share," offered Julia. "I don't ever want to see a
crab again as long as I live," and her face fell to positive freezing
point.
"Now, Julie dear, don't take on so," teased Grace. "No telling what our
Wise Willie may turn out to be, and just think--you held his foot when
we dragged him in."
"Grace, just you stop, I am nervous," pleaded Julia, "and I didn't hold
his foot, it was his hand."
If Julia was really nervous, the laugh and merry-making that followed
her naïve remark must certainly have dispelled the quakes, for presently
she was shaking with laughter rather than with nerves.
"But the crabs!" insisted Grace. "Let's draw for them," and she dragged
the girls over to a little terrace where they unceremoniously squatted
down.
"Here are nice long and short straws," offered Louise, breaking off some
tall grass ends. "Julia, you can say which wins, long or short?"
"Please don't ask me to decide anything about those crabs," protested
Julia. "And if you don't mind I'll just run along. Mother expects folks
to dinner. I had a lovely time--" she stopped to allow the girls' laugh
time to penetrate. Force of habit in "having a good time" seemed too
absurd now, when all were just recovering from the accident shock.
"Oh, we know what you mean, Julia," teased Grace. "You had a lovely time
holding Willie's foot--hand I mean, I forgot it was his hand."
But Julia was off, down the avenue, her light hair floating like a cloud
about her shoulder, and her slim figure--the girls called it
svelt--still proclaiming her the little girl, in spite of her grown up
manners. Every one liked Julia; she was pensive and temperamental, but
distinctively individual withal.
"No use my winning those crabs," said Margaret, "we haven't any one to
shell them, or cook them, or do anything with them."
"You can put them in a tub of water and let them grow up," suggested
Cleo, drawing a long straw, when a short one would decide the crabs.
"There, Louise, you have them. Take them! I hope they make you a lovely
salad, and that they don't make you sick."