The Girl Scouts at Sea Crest Part 6

"Don't rock the boat, that is always first and last orders," replied her chum, "and next, just throw your line out in any direction you choose."

"Oh, I see. You just guess where the crabs are," replied Cleo, quite interested, as her bait was leaving port, so to speak. "There! That's the best part of the fun--taking aim," and she gracefully tossed her flying line out into the water.

The other girls had likewise "cast," and now all were patiently waiting for a bite.

"Now, when you feel a pull," advised Louise, "just bring it up and slip your net in quietly, and scoop up Mr. Crab. There! I've got one! Now watch!"

Just as she had ordered the others to do, Louise now scooped up her net, and in came a good sized blue crab.

"Oh, look out," cried Grace. "Crabs bite fearfully. Louise, you are not going to turn that thing loose in this little boat?" she wailed.

"Don't worry Grace; he goes right in his little basket. There!" and with a skillful motion Louise did turn the squirming sh.e.l.l fish into the basket.

"He's crawling out!" shrieked Julia. "Oh, we should have a cover for the basket."

"No," Margaret said, shaking the basket and thus settling the nervous crab. "He can't get out. He is just exercising. My, how clawy he is! How many like that would it take to make a meal?"

"Quite a few I should think," replied Cleo. "For I know we don't eat the sh.e.l.l. But this is fun. Let me have another try. My turn to land one now," and again she cast out and patiently waited a bite.

The next shout of victory, however, came from Julia's end of the boat, and she presently landed a very large crab, so large and lively in fact, that all four girls helped to get him in the basket.

"Now, they'll fight," murmured Margaret. "See the way they claw each other."

"Come on girls," called Louise. "We'll never fill our baskets if we hold an autopsy over every catch. Here! I've got another," and into the basket went another unfortunate.

"It's just like a game, and I think the chance of grabbing one is as good fun as grabbing at Cross Tag," Cleo remarked. "Oh, there's one, Grace; look at your line dragging!"

And so it went on until the crabs were piling up in the basket and threatening to get out, in spite of the sea weed that was heaped on much thicker than necessary, according to the opinion of Louise.

So intent were the girls on their crabbing game they had not noticed the other craft drifting about them. Suddenly Grace pulled so hard at Cleo's sleeve she almost lost a catch in the attempt.

"Look!" begged Grace. "Over in that boat! Wise Willie, the boy with the book."

They all paused to observe the graceful green bark, in which was seated the boy with the book, as Grace described him. And as usual the book was very much in evidence.

In fact, his oars lay in their locks, and he was drifting aimlessly as if the river were his, instead of the earth, according to Monte Cristo.

"Let's give him a scare and see if he is alive," suggested Cleo.

"Suppose we row up to him and ask him if he knows where the Weasle lives," proposed Grace.

"Oh, please don't," implored Julia, who showed signs of nervousness.

"Why should we disturb him--he's only reading?"

"Oh, you like Wise Willie," teased Margaret. "Here's a flower from my belt, toss it to him, Julia."

But in spite of their joking the boy in the boat, all unconscious of the attention he was the center of, merely drifted on, until first one oar, then the other slipped out of the boat, and floated down the river.

"I believe he _is_ unconscious," Grace continued to joke. "Now, of course, we have to rescue his oars."

"Why?" asked Julia innocently.

"Or tow him in, if you would rather, Jule," suggested Louise. "Don't you realize we are bound by traffic laws to a.s.sist a stranded boatman?"

"But he isn't stranded, and he doesn't need help," replied Julia with a show of something like temper. "Why should we speak to a strange boy?"

she demanded.

"And why shouldn't we?" fired back Cleo. "If he isn't stranded it is because he hasn't struck the strand yet; just watch him."

They dropped their nets and watched the boy, who, bent over his book, drifted along without the least sign of regard for his situation.

Meanwhile the oars had drifted farther and farther away. A pa.s.sing motor boat swelled the tide to a current and this washed them almost out of sight of the watchers.

"Being a boy we hesitate to hail him," said Louise. "Now, if that were a girl----"

"Oh, if it were," interrupted Julia, with a meaning tone.

"All the same the poor boy may be late for dinner," said Grace foolishly. "Let's hail him!" and she cupped her hands to her lips.

"Please don't," begged Julia. This objection brought forth a perfect volley of cynicism.

Finally, Cleo took up one oar, and Margaret the other, and they proceeded in the direction of the floating propellers. As they pa.s.sed the boy's boat, the girls spoke loudly of "some one losing his oars,"

but even this did not arouse him.

"Maybe we'll have to row him home," said Grace. "He doesn't look as if he cared much whether he ever gets back to land or not."

It took but a few moments to get his oars, and again the girls turned up stream.

"Who is going to give them to him," asked Louise, with a foolish giggle.

"We are n.o.ble scouts--we are!" mocked Cleo. "Mine be the task! A-hem!"

and here a fit of laughter spoiled the proposed effect.

"Here are your oars!" called Grace, before the others could realize what she was about. But no boy answered.

"Say!" yelled Margaret, taking courage from Grace. "Say, boy! Here are your oars!" Still no answer.

Louise took an oar and gave the drifting boat a vigorous shove.

At this the boy did look up, and for a moment he seemed to comprehend; then he jumped up so suddenly he toppled over into the water between the two boats!

"Oh, mercy!" cried the girls, in one voice.

"The river is deep enough here!" exclaimed Louise. "Give him an oar to climb on."

A sudden scream from the boy in the water brought the melancholy news that he could not swim! His boat drifted off as quickly as it was freed from his weight, and the girls were not quite near enough to reach him.

"Hurry, hurry!" begged Louise, who was now rowing. "He may sink, then what would he do?"