“We’re not having a war, are we?” Howard ventured to ask.
Pee-wee was too busy poling the float to answer. His scout staff touched bottom, and as the float moved the water became shallower, until soon there was a scraping sound beneath them and the float refused to be pushed any farther. Not only that, it refused to be pushed in any direction whatsoever. It did consent to turn a little like a merry-go-round, but thought better of it presently and became as motionless as a stubborn mule.
“It’s grounded,” Pee-wee said; “come on, push hard; push with all your might.”
The united strength of the three adventurers failed to budge the lumbering float. It sat securely on the gravelly bottom and all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t start it moving again.
“We’re marooned!” Pee-wee shouted. “That means kind of like being on a desert island only there isn’t any island; it’s a desert float, but it’s just as good. We’re on a reef; you can tell a reef by closing your eyes and opening them all of a sudden and looking very sudden at the water. It’ll seem kind of gray, like, where the reef is.”
Both of the younger scouts squinted their eyes, in accordance with this valuable bit of nautical lore, but saw nothing. Pee-wee had tried it on every lake and river he had ever seen but never had it revealed anything under the water. It was his choicest bit of scout knowledge with one exception. That was his device for getting a light without matches, only he had to light a match in order to see to work it.
The spot where they were now marooned was a shallow area of the lake near the scene of their sensational adventures. But a few yards of unfathomable depth (six feet deep at least) lay between them and the shore. As for the camp shore, that seemed miles upon miles away, but they could see the sportive smoke circling above the cooking shack, and they gazed wistfully at it, as they thought of the hot stew and boiled potatoes which were being served at the messboards.
In their minds’ eyes, they saw mounds of ice cream standing in saucers, surrounded by little lakes of melted cream. And on each luscious island a cherry, marooned. Not only one helping did their fancy picture forth, but three helpings.
That Pee-wee himself should have sung of these delights (or rather shouted) and that now they should escape him! That he should bellow forth the joys of ice cream and cake and then not have any!
“Let’s send them a signal that we’re starving,” Willie suggested.