A TEST FOR SNOW WHITE
The hours at Silver Beach were all too short for the Brownie Scouts. It
seemed to them that they never had time to accomplish half the things
they wanted to do.
Most intriguing of all was the sea itself. Each morning it coaxed them
in for a swim. By the time the girls had taken their sun baths and
searched for shells it was nearly lunch time.
“The days are just flying,” Connie sighed. “Before we know it, we’ll be
returning to Rosedale.”
“We haven’t learned anything more about that little ship house either,”
Vevi replied soberly. “So many things are undone. We haven’t even found
Miss Gordon’s wrist watch.”
Now the teacher long ago had given up all thought of recovering the
missing timepiece. The Brownies, however, kept hoping that the watch
would be found in the sand. Nearly every day when they were on the
beach, they would dig around, hoping to find it.
Since Vevi and Connie had visited the pigeon cote, all of the Brownies
wanted to go there. Whenever the troop went on a hike, the girls
usually walked in the direction of Mr. Green’s loft.
The pigeon breeder would not allow the Brownies inside the building
lest they disturb the birds. It was fun though, to stand outside,
watching the pigeons drop into the roof traps after long flights.
The racers would alight on the building and walk along the eaves. When
they stepped into one of the traps, Mr. Green could reach up and grab
them by the legs. Then he would feed them and put them in their cages.
Some of the pigeons had gray and blue plumage with black bars on each
wing. Others had feathers in a salt and pepper effect. The less common
birds were black, red, yellow and silver. Vevi did not see a single one
that appeared as white as the pigeon she had found near the lighthouse.
She asked Mr. Green why he did not have more white racers.
“White birds are more prone to attack by hawks,” he explained. “By the
way, your bird has recovered its strength again.”
“Then it’s ready to race?” the little girl asked eagerly.
“It’s as ready as it will ever be. As I said, I doubt the bird ever
will be much good.”
“But you promised to give it one more chance.”
“So I did,” Mr. Green agreed. “I’m testing out a dozen birds today.
I’ll include your pigeon in the lot.”
All the Brownies wanted to watch the test and Mr. Green agreed that
they might. He told Mrs. Williams and Miss Gordon that he would release
the birds at a point five miles away from the pigeon cote.
Everyone drove there in Mrs. William’s car. By the time they arrived,
Mr. Green already had unloaded several wicker baskets of pigeons which
he planned to release.
Vevi went over to talk to Snow White. The pigeon was in a basket by
himself. His feathers were smooth and glossy and he looked as if he
were in good condition for racing. At least Vevi thought so.
“Now you must do your very best today,” she said to the pigeon. “When
Mr. Green tosses you into the air, fly straight home! Fly faster than
any of the other birds!”
“You’re goofy, talking to a pigeon!” Jane teased, coming up behind her.
“He can’t understand you.”
“Maybe he can,” Vevi insisted. “Anyway, you just wait! Snow White will
do fine this time.”
The Brownies gathered around as Mr. Green prepared to release the
pigeons.
“The birds are hungry, so they should fly directly to the loft,” he
declared. “As soon as I’ve set them free, I’ll drive back. I want to be
on hand to check their time as they arrive at the cote.”
Mr. Green tossed all of the birds into the air. They rose and circled
once or twice. Then one by one they flew off in the direction of the
pigeon loft.
“Snow White went with the others!” Vevi cried in delight. “I’ll bet
he’s the first to reach the roost!”
Having released the birds, Mr. Green did not waste any time. He drove
off home immediately. Mrs. Williams, Miss Gordon and the Brownies
followed, but at a more leisurely rate.
“Can’t we drive faster?” Vevi urged impatiently.
“Not on this curving road,” Mrs. Williams replied. “We’ll be there soon
enough.”
The pigeons had started to arrive by the time the Brownies finally
reached Mr. Green’s place.
As the girls alighted from the car, they saw a gray-blue bird winging
in to alight on the rooftop.
Vevi watched it fall into the trap and disappear. Then she ran to the
door of the dove cote.
“Has Snow White come yet?” she shouted to the loft owner.
“Not yet,” Mr. Green replied. “Only three of the birds have come so
far. I’m very busy now. Don’t bother me.”
Through the windows, the Brownies could see the loft owner seizing each
bird as it arrived. He would record its number and exact time in a
little book.
“Where is Snow White?” Vevi fretted as one after another of the pigeons
arrived.
“Your old bird isn’t any good,” teased Jane.
“Wait and see,” Vevi retorted. “I think he’s coming now!”
She was wrong though. The bird which had settled on the roof was a
light colored pigeon which from a distance had appeared almost white.
Mr. Green fed the bird and put it back in its cage. Then he appeared in
the doorway of the pigeon cote.
“Well, they’re all in now except one,” he told the Brownies. “No use
waiting for it, because it won’t show up.”
Vevi knew he meant Snow White. She was so disappointed she felt like
crying.
“I’m sure it wasn’t Snow White’s fault,” she told Mr. Green. “Maybe his
wing wasn’t entirely healed.”
“That could be,” agreed the pigeon breeder. “But I only tested the bird
to please you. I’m through bothering with him even if he does show up
later.”
All the Brownies, even Jane, had wanted the bird to make a satisfactory
test. They were sorry that Snow White would never be given another
chance.
So that the Brownies would not think too much about the lost bird, Miss
Gordon proposed that everyone return to the beach for a swim.
Vevi only waded through the sand while the others took their lesson
from Barney Fulsom. Spying Jamie Curry walking along in a maroon sweat
shirt and brown shorts, she went over to tell him about Snow White’s
misfortune.
“Say, I’d like to work for Mr. Green!” Jamie exclaimed. “I wonder how
much he would pay?”
Without waiting for Vevi to answer, he went on quickly: “My father
wouldn’t let me work there though. He doesn’t let me do anything I
like. One of these days--soon too--I’ll run away again. Next time he
won’t find me.”
Jamie had made the same remark before. So Vevi did not think he really
meant it.
“Oh, Jamie,” she protested, “why would you want to do such a foolish
thing?”
“You’d want to run away too if you knew what I do,” the boy hinted
again.
Then he quickly changed the subject by asking Vevi if she had found a
turtle for the Saturday race.
“Not yet,” she admitted. “I don’t know how to get one either.”
“It’s easy as falling off a log,” Jamie said. “Why don’t you try the
pond again? Maybe you’ll catch that snapper I told you about.”
The boy added that if Vevi hoped to win a prize for the Brownies, she
would have to enter the Saturday race.
“That will be the last one this season,” he told her. “My father said
yesterday he’s going to give up his job and go west.”
“You’ll leave with him, Jamie?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
Vevi could not understand the boy’s strange attitude toward his father.
Because he didn’t seem to care to talk about it, she spoke again of the
turtle pond.
“Want me to take you there?” the boy offered. “I’ll catch you a dandy
turtle.”
Vevi knew that Miss Gordon would not want her to go to the pond without
an older person along. She realized too, that the other Brownies would
not favor an outing there, for they were enjoying their swimming lesson.
“I guess I can’t go,” she said, her face downcast.
Just then, old Captain Tarwell strolled up to talk to the children.
Hearing mention of the pond, he offered to take Jamie and Vevi.
“I want to stop at the cottage on the way,” he remarked. “I’ll be glad
to have company. That is, if you’ll promise not to walk too fast.”
Miss Gordon said that Vevi might go. So off the three went, idling
along so that the old seaman would not tire himself.
On their way to the pond, Captain Tarwell stopped briefly at the little
ship cottage. He went inside for a moment to make certain no one had
broken in since his last visit.
After snapping shut the padlock again, Captain Tarwell slipped the key
under a loose shingle on the side of the house.
“Now you know my secret,” he said, “but I’ll trust you both not to tell
where I keep the key.”
Vevi remarked wistfully that she wished the Brownie Scouts might hold
their shell exhibition at the cottage.
“We wouldn’t damage anything,” she promised.
Captain Tarwell acted as if he had not heard the request. Telling the
youngsters to come along, he started on down the road toward the pond.
The captain could not walk fast on his lame leg. Out of politeness,
Vevi and Jamie kept exact pace.
“Hunting pond turtles puts me in mind of the days when I’d see giant
tortoises roaming island beaches in the Pacific,” he remarked. “It’s
fun to watch the big leatherbacks come out of the sea on moonlight
nights to lay their eggs.”
“I’d like to run off to sea,” Jamie said.
Captain Tarwell gave the boy a quick, sidelong glance. “Better forget
that idea, lad,” he said.
Then he went on to tell how the giant turtles would come out of the
ocean on moonlight nights to dig holes for their eggs. He explained
that the reptiles would cover the eggs with sand and return to the
sea. Vevi hadn’t known that turtles laid eggs. Or that they left them
for the sun to hatch. She asked what became of the turtle babies.
“As soon as they hatch, they creep down to the water,” Captain Tarwell
explained. “There they feed on tadpoles, snails and insects.”
He told the children that one could guess a turtle’s age by the rims on
its shell. “If a shell has six rims, then the turtle is six years old,”
he said. “But after many years, the rims wear away, so then one can
only estimate the age.”
By this time, the three had reached Cabell’s pond. Captain Tarwell sat
down on the beach to smoke his pipe and rest. He said he would wait
there and watch while the children caught turtles.
Stripping off shoes and stockings, Jamie boldly waded in.
Moving quietly into a patch of rushes, he soon caught a pancake turtle
in his bare hands. But after he had examined it, he threw it back into
the water.
“You don’t want this old fellow,” he called to Vevi. “He’s sickly.
You’d never win a race with him.”
Jamie kept looking for other turtles. Soon he had caught three. But
he let each one go. One had a broken shell and the other two were not
active.
“I’d like ANY turtle,” Vevi declared.
Jamie paid no attention to her. He kept diving into the water with his
hands. Now that he had stirred up the pond, the turtles were harder to
catch. He waded farther and farther out into the pond trying to find
them.
“Be careful,” warned Vevi.
“Oh, I can swim,” Jamie replied carelessly. “My father taught me how.”
Just as he spoke, he stepped into a deep hole. Falling forward, the boy
made a terrific splash. As he scrambled to his feet his clothes were
all wet.
Captain Tarwell walked down to the edge of the water.
“Avast, there!” he called to Jamie. “Time we start for home, son. You
need some dry clothes.”
Jamie reluctantly waded back toward shore.
“Oh, dear,” murmured Vevi. “We have to leave, and after all our work,
we have no turtle.”
“After all my work, you mean,” corrected Jamie. He grinned though, as
he said it. Turtle hunting had been fun.
The boy suddenly stopped short, gazing toward a rotted log which stuck
up out of the water.
He did not say a word for a moment. Then he whispered excitedly:
“Look over there!”
Vevi gazed at the log. At first she didn’t notice anything unusual.
But as she kept looking, something moved. She caught a little flash of
yellow.
Sunning itself on the log was a big snapping turtle. On its shell had
been printed a name in yellow paint.
“That’s HIM!” whispered Jamie, moving stealthily through the water.
“That’s Clover! Hold your breath, Vevi. I’m going to nail that old
boy!”