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Pee-Wee Harris Adrift

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<h3> CHAPTER XXVII </h3> <h3> SETTLED AT LAST </h3> And now the wandering career of Merry-go-round Island seemed at last to have ended and it roamed no more over the face of the waters. On the contrary, it settled down to a life of respectable retirement on Waring's reef. Waring's reef was dry land at low tide, and even at high tide was close enough to the surface to support the trusty foundation of the fugitive isle. It stood exactly in the middle of the river at a spot where the stream was straight and comparatively wide, and commanded a fine view of the boat-house a mile or so downstream. There was more or less life down there during the ensuing week for the high school pupils made the place their own in the brief Easter vacation. It was on Wednesday that a couple of high school boys chugged up in a little launch and were about to land when Pee-wee forbade them by turning the traffic sign upon them just as they were about to set foot on the island. The island had been on its good behavior now for four days and had not so much as turned an inch. It seemed to have found a satisfactory home at last. "What do you call this thing, anyway?" one of the visitors asked. "It's a desert island," said Pee-wee. "Can't you see what it is? Don't you know a desert island when you see one? Gee whiz, you're in high school, you ought to know a desert island when you see one. I know you," he added, addressing one of the visitors; "you're on the basket-ball team, your name is Chase, your first name is Wingate and you're all the time going around with Grove Bronson's sister and he's in the troop that I'm not in any more." In the face of these unquestionable facts Wingate Chase was helpless; he could not do otherwise than admit his identity. "We're going to have some events on Saturday," he said. "This fellow with me is from the Edgemere High School and——" "He's going to get beaten," shouted Pee-wee; "because Bridgeboro High School can lick all the high schools around here, in athletics and debates and everything." "That's all right, Kiddo," said the fellow from Edgemere High School. "You bet it's all right," said Pee-wee. "We were thinking we'd like to use your island," said Wingate Chase. "You don't want to take it to Edgemere, do you?" Townsend Ripley asked. "We don't allow it to be taken from the premises. You may use it here if you care to." "Find out what they want to use it for," shouted Pee-wee. "What do you want to use it for?" Townsend asked. "Tell them they'll have to pay for any damage they do to it," Pee-wee said. "We just want to put a flag on it," Wingate Chase said. "You mean you want to take possession of it?" Pee-wee demanded. "You mean you want to discover it? I'm the discoverer of this desert island." The fellow from Edgemere seemed rather amused at Pee-wee. "All we want to do," he said, "is to use it to beat the Bridgeboro High School in the rowing match. We just want to row around it. The two crews will start from the boat-house and race upstream and around this island and back. Now that won't hurt the island any, will it? In a few minutes it will be all over except the shouting." "Shall we let them do it?" Pee-wee whispered to Townsend. "Of course we'll want one of our referees to stay on the island during the races," said Wingate, "but he won't hurt anything. There'll be several races, a rowing race, a canoe race, a swimming race and so on; we haven't made up the program yet." "Are you going to have any refreshments?" Pee-wee demanded. "We don't allow refreshments on the island," said Townsend. "Shall we let them do it?" Pee-wee asked. "Positively," said Townsend; "I don't see how we can stop them, as long as they keep outside of the three mile limit. The referee won't do any harm. All he does is to see that the racing is fair as they round the limit." "We're the limit, hey?" vociferated Pee-wee. "You said it," laughed the fellow from Edgemere. "All right," said Pee-wee, "you can do it." It was not until the Alligator Patrol sat around their camp-fire that night that the possibilities of this participation in the athletic events began to unfold in the seething mind of our hero. He had stood somewhat upon his dignity with the committee because he did not want to hold the island too cheap in their eyes. Moreover, though he was for Bridgeboro, once, last and always, his attitude was uniformly combative toward older boys, high school boys in particular, and toward high schools generally. He would be chary of the privileges he granted to these "big fellers" whom he knew so well how to "handle." But in the light of the camp-fire he saw visions of huge war profits in these impending combats. While Edgemere and Bridgeboro fought he would become a war millionaire. The little island, retired from its wild career at last and with a secure and fixed abode would still play an important part in world affairs. "I tell you what we'll do," said Pee-wee; "we'll sell seats for people to see the races from the island. We'll build a couple of benches out of this old refreshment board—we'll drive stakes in the ground—and one of us will go to town—I mean the mainland—with a big sign telling people they can buy seats for ten cents—because in the boat races when Sir Thomas Lipton's yacht got beaten lots of people paid to go out on excursion steamers and this island is better than an excursion steamer, because they'll go right around the edge of it—right around the coast and everybody'll get a dandy view." Thus it was that on Thursday and Friday there appeared in the Bridgeboro Evening Record an advertisement which read: See the High School events on the river from Alligator Island, seats ten cents. Fine view of the races. Free transportation both ways. Alligator Island belongs to the boy scouts and is in the middle of the river, commanding a fine view because the boats go around it. Boat goes back and forth from Gilroy's field. Absolutely safe. Take the beautiful ride to Alligator Island and see the races for only ten cents. Children in arms if not accompanied by parents have to pay five cents. It will be observed from the advertisement that Merry-go-round Island, alias the Isle of Desserts, was now masquerading under a new name, which had been given it in the hope of obliterating all memories of its wandering past. Being now a respectable stay-at-home island, stuck fast with each part of its coast true to its proper compass point, what more natural than that its roving youth should be treated as a closed book by its owners? There it sat in the middle of the glinting river, its sturdy understructure reposing upon Waring's reef. Even at low tide the shallow water rippled about it. At high tide the coy reef withdrew entirely within the briny deep, so that the unromantic and unsightly scow was not visible and the island stood in all its wild and floral beauty, a vision of picturesque delight for three or four hours each day at full tide. From the mainland (some thirty feet distant according to a piece of string) the yellow dandelions could be seen dotting its geometric coast and occasionally some drowsy turtle, with neck extended, was visible, sleeping in the sun. The only historic memento of Minerva Skybrow's lawn party to be found upon the island now was the refreshment board, quite empty. It is true that an explorer, delving among the rocks and crevices, might have found some fugitive stuffed olive or perchance a lost nut or raisin here and there. But the feast of Dessert Isle was now a part of history. Minerva's little tent had been delivered to her (for Pee-wee could not eat that) and only the makeshift table which had supported the absconding repast remained. This was now made into two long benches, supported by sticks driven into the ground. It was intended that the overflow from this grandstand should sit on the grass. These preparations completed, our hero, accompanied by Brownie and Billy, went ashore on Friday afternoon and edified the people on Main Street with an imposing display. <center> <ANTIMG SRC="images/img-178.jpg" ALT="Pee-wee becomes a sandwich man." BORDER="2" WIDTH="388" HEIGHT="618"> <h4> [Illustration: Pee-wee becomes a sandwich man.] </h4> </center> They paraded up and down the sidewalk wearing large placards, the most striking of which was the one that almost completely obscured the diminutive form of our hero. It was appropriately in the form of a sandwich of which he himself was the center, his head and legs protruding from it like the head and legs of a turtle. Its glaring announcement seemed to suggest the literary style of Townsend Ripley. CUT RATE CRUISES TO ALLIGATOR ISLE SEE THE WILD SCOUTS AND THE BOAT RACES ENJOY A SEA VOYAGE IN THE PALATIAL ROWBOAT ALLIGATOR ROUND AND SQUARE TRIP TEN CENTS. SAILINGS FROM GILROY'S FIELD. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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