ON THE SANDS
"AS a quiet evening it was a cyclone," said Julia to her congratulating companions. "I really was not sure whether I should shake both the heels at once, or in rapid succession, but when I saw that safety pin—oh, girls!" and she pretended to slink down into the supporting arms offered her.
"Whether premeditated or a mere accident you did nobly," declared Margaret, "and I shouldn't wonder if handsome young Neal wouldn't want to join our troop. Isn't he stunning looking?"
"But he is the friend of marine Richard—he who is coming in on the millionaire's yacht," put in Grace. "Therefore Julia, you and I shall divide the honors. Joking aside girls, what is our program for the morrow?"
"Bathing, of course—high tide at ten-thirty," announced Julia.
"After that we will pay a call at Captain Dave's Life Saving Station," said Cleo. "In fact we can run over there from the beach. We have simply got to find out all he knows about Luna Island."
They were on their way home from the Colonade, and as it was still early, the streets were populated with summer visitors just leaving the pavilions, the boardwalks, picture theaters, or hotels. Each scout leaving the group left one less to the usual "last tag" game, which again became of interest to the young girls, not yet too dignified to enjoy such pleasure romps.
Next morning at the beach a number of new arrivals were added to the list of their companions, as each day now brought its own quota of visitors to the popular summer resort, and it was surely "the more the merrier."
"Good swimming in the cove," announced Cleo, "at least we call it the cove, but it's really a little lake, made smooth by the banked up sand bar. Come on everybody, up to Third Avenue."
Surf boards added to the sport, and while every morning was a holiday at the beach, to-day seemed something of legal type; such a wonderfully merry time the colonists were enjoying. All the scouts were swimmers; Grace as usual was daring to the point of risk, Cleo quickly followed every prank she initiated, and the others found plenty of fun either attempting to follow, or originating their own brand of frolic.
What is more alluring than the ocean on the right sort of summer day? Beyond the bar steamers could just be seen emitting their long, smoky ribbons over the water, that from the distance seemed so close to the sky as to be merely a first floor with that blue mottled ceiling. A few daring swimmers would work their way out in canoes, taking the rollers at constant risk of submersion, then come sailing in like a shot, never making a break in the dash until past the bathers, and out on the very beach each little bark would triumphantly land. This was great sport, but few girls were brave enough to indulge in it.
The life savers, two stalwart youths, so bronzed as to glisten in the sun like copper models—sat on the high bench under the big beach sunshade. They could see above the heads of the crowds, far out past the danger line, and theirs was the responsibility of keeping track of every foolish boy, or more foolish girl, who ventured beyond the ropes.
At last the scouts did get together, and made a run through the wet sand, along the edge toward the fishing pier, and from there it was only a matter of crossing the street to reach the life saving station.
In a trot, popular as exercise after bathing, all four girls, Louise, Grace, Cleo and Julia started off. The far end of the bathing beach was now deserted, the hour approaching lunch or dinner always exacting the dressing process, hotel guests especially, being obliged to report in the dining-room on time.
"Wait a minute, wait a minute," begged Cleo. "I thought I saw a piece of pink coral."
"Pink coral doesn't grow around here," protested Grace. "You likely saw a blushing fish bone. Don't bother with it. You know how we made out with the pink crabs."
"Yes," put in Julia. "Let's change our color scheme. Here's a lovely amethyst shell."
The trot was started up again, heads erect, shoulders back, and elbows in—regular marathon for the beach on this perfect summer's day.
"Look here!" called Cleo. "Here's another message about—fire-bugs. See it spells: 'L-O-O-K O-U-T'" she figured it out in the sand. "There, would you ever think one would be so daring?"
They all paused to read the letters so crudely forked in the wet sand.
"Yes," insisted Julia. "There's 'bug.' Guess they didn't dare write the word 'fire'."
A lone figure on a lone bench up near the boardwalk attracted their attention at the same moment.
"If there isn't our boy!" exclaimed Louise. "Now, doesn't that almost prove him guilty?"
"No, it doesn't," objected his champion, Grace. "He's too far away—besides——"
"Any one could make letters in the sand," put in Julia. "Think of the hundreds of children who played here all morning. Come on," and she started the race again.
But they had scarcely gone a hundred yards when she stopped very suddenly.
"Oh, mercy!" she screamed. "I stepped on——"
"You bet you did! You stepped on me!"
The answer came from a grotesque figure that had just pulled itself out of the sand, and it was none other than the girl, still known only as "Letty."
"I didn't mean to," apologized Julia, for, as a matter of fact, she had come full weight on the sand hill under which was buried the girl.
"Well, you didn't break any bones," said the girl, with less antagonism than she had formerly displayed. "But I thought the sky fell—guess I was dreaming."
She dragged herself up and shook the sand from her unkempt skirt, although the action seemed unnecessary, then grinned at the girls in the most comic way.
This was a signal for Grace to howl, and howl she did, to be followed by the others, every one seeming glad that Letty had not "thrown her head at them," as was her usual attitude in meeting the scouts.
"And you go swimmin' in there?" she asked, pointing a mocking finger at the ocean.
"Surely, don't you?" asked Louise.
"Me? Well, I guess not. No more ocean for Kitty," and she turned her back to the waves, meanwhile pulling a long, wry face.
"Are you Kitty?" asked Cleo.
"Yep, that's me. They call me Kitty Scuttle, but Scuttle ain't my name. Boys give me that 'cause I shoo them off the island."
Here was an opening. Louise seized it.
"Sit down and tell us about it, Kitty," she said. "You know we really had no idea of bothering your dove the other day. Did his leg fix up all right?"
"Guess so, but he ain't my bird," and she did actually flop down in the sand, much to their surprise.
"Why don't you like the ocean?" asked Grace.
"The ocean is a coward. It fights women and babies," she said, a queer mocking irony marking her words.
"Yes," agreed Louise, to placate her, "the ocean is treacherous."
"An' cruel," she sort of hissed. "I came from that ocean on a rope once, and I'll never go back on it while I'm alive."
"Oh, you were shipwrecked," ventured Cleo, her mind running to the story of the little girl on the frozen mother's breast, told them by Captain Dave.
"Yes, Mom never spoke to me again, and I hate that ocean ever since."
The girls exchanged glances. Surely she must be the one spoken of by Captain Dave.
"But you like still-water?" suggested Grace, in order to relieve the tension.
"Love the little Round River, Glimmer Lake, and even the bay," replied Kitty, "but not that monster."
It seemed to the scouts she used a queer mixture of phrases. Cleo thought she might be addicted to reading sensational books.
"Do you go to school?" queried Julia.
"Sure, every one has to go to school, and I don't stay on the island in winter." This last was said in a tone implying every one ought to know that.
"You come over here in winter?" It was Louise who dared press that question. They all felt Kitty was due to take another tantrum any minute. She had been almost dangerously good, so far.
"Yep," the finality of this spoke for itself.
"We're just going over to the life saving station to see Captain Dave," said Cleo. "Glad we didn't hurt you as we ran."
"Couldn't," said Kitty. "I don't hurt. Nothin' touches me. And say, I wasn't mad when I pegged the box at you the other day. I was just funnin'."
"You didn't hurt me either," returned Louise, quite as good-naturedly. "A little pasteboard box couldn't hurt a scout."
"Do you belong to the government?" asked Kitty suddenly.
"We're not enlisted, if that's what you mean," answered Cleo, "but we learn to give service if it is needed."
"I'd like a suit like yours. Must be fine for fogs. Sometimes I can't get into my rags they're so soggy over there in the woods."
Every one silently agreed such clothes as she possessed would surely become "soggy" under the trees.
"But only a scout can wear the uniform," said Grace, being careful to use a very kindly tone.
"What do you have to do?" inquired Kitty, evincing interest.
"When we meet you again we'll tell you about it," replied Louise. "But, say Kitty, we want to take a trip over to the island some day. Shall we see you over there?"
"To the island!" she shouted, and all her gentleness was gone instantly. "Don't you dare; the dogs would eat you up!"
"Oh, no, we don't mind dogs," Cleo hurried to say. "Besides, you must know them and you could keep them in check."
"Oh, no, I couldn't," she was plainly excited now. "Don't you dare come over to Looney Land. The reason I liked you was on account of you fetching Uncle Pete up from the pier. He told me, and I was—thankful."
She hung her head and her cropped hair stood out like a brush around her face. Kitty was a pathetic sight, even when excited.
"Was he your uncle? Is he all right?" asked Louise.
"Nope. He isn't all right. Can't hardly stir ever since. He said he would have died if you girls hadn't helped him, and I want to thank you for that. I'd just die without Uncle Pete."
"Well, good-by," said Julia, as they started off this time positively. "Tell Uncle Pete we will come over to see him soon."
At this the child ran over to Louise and literally grabbed her, seizing her two hands, and holding them as tightly as her own could grasp them.
"Oh, please, please don't come!" she begged, and her eyes had the look of a frightened animal. "You don't know what it would mean to me. And I ask you not to. Won't you promise?"
The girls looked at the changed creature in undisguised astonishment.
"We don't want to bring trouble on you, Kitty, if that is what you mean," said Julia. "But we have promised ourselves a trip to that queer island. Of course, if it would hurt you for us to go——"
"Oh, it would, that's it. It would hurt me more than you could guess. So tell me you won't come over!"
"All right, we'll see," said Cleo, and they hurried off to the bathing house to dress, as the time for visiting Captain Dave had been consumed in talking to Kitty.
"Well, what do you think of that?" almost gasped Cleo when they joined the other girls who had been impatiently waiting for the report from the life saving station.
"Whatever is wrong about Luna Land?" added Louise. "Now see where we are at."
"Can't we go?" pouted Grace.
"I don't see why not," put in Julia. "Surely, we couldn't make any trouble, just by going over there. I think that girl is—woozy."
"Well, I think she's pretty sharp," said Cleo, "and until we can find out from some one what is wrong over there, I'll vote to defer the trip. Suppose we really should bring trouble on that poor cropped head!"
"That's so," agreed Grace, though it was plain the change in plans brought disappointment to the entire group. "Let's hurry. We must have talked half an hour. And I promised not to be one minute late for lunch."
"We have such a time with meals—never can get folks together," said Cleo, hastily jumping in to her blouse and skirt.
"All the same," insisted Margaret, "we must go to the life saving station right after lunch."
"And how about our tennis game? We promised Mary, you know, to go over for a couple of sets this afternoon."
"We never seem to get to tennis," deplored Louise. "But let's all meet at Borden's at two o'clock, and then we can decide what to do."
"There's Leonore looking for me," called out Grace.
"And there's Jerry looking for me," added Cleo.
"Come on girls, pile in, plenty of room," called Gerald; and those who did not run to his car flocked to the one driven by Leonore, so that the belated scouts made good time, then at least, in getting to their respective cottages.