"Oh, isn"t that perfectly _terrible_!" said Dora.
"He"ll make terrible inroads on it," said Connie Bennett.
"_Inroads_!" said Roy. "You mean turnpikes and highways."
"Well, then, why don"t you boys hurry?" Minerva asked excitedly. "It isn"t too late. _Oh, do hurry_!"
"We can never tow that island back against the tide," said Dorry Benton.
"We can remove the stuff to the boat though," said Artie Van Arlen.
"I"m going to "phone to Mr. Speeder to get his motor-boat and go after him; he can tow it back."
"Listen--_shh_--he"s calling," said Townsend.
"Shh--_shhhh_!"
"Listen."
From down the river, a little farther than before, came a voice spent by the distance. "_I"m on the flats, I"m stuck._"
"Thank goodness!" said Minerva. "Now we can reach him."
"Are you going around?" Townsend shouted.
"The sandwiches are all falling down," called the voice. "The doughnuts are rolling out."
"Save them," shouted Roy.
"All right, I will," screamed Pee-wee.
"_Oh, such a relief_," said Minerva. "Do you think he"s stuck fast?"
"We can only hope," said Townsend. "Come on, let"s hustle."
Words cannot describe the haste and excitement with which the skiff was launched and manned by a little band of doughty pioneers. Roy, Warde Hollister and Townsend Ripley were the crew, two rowing while the other steered.
"Can we help ourselves?" Warde asked, as they glided out on the river.
"Yes, yes, yes, help yourselves to _anything_," called Minerva, "only bring them back--pile them in the boat--it doesn"t make any difference how--only hurry, he may drift off again."
"Now you see," said Roy, addressing Warde, "the harder you work and the longer you wait the hungrier you"ll be. Everything is working out fine, thanks to me."
"Oh, sure," said Warde, already breathless from his strenuous rowing, "they give you roast turkey up at Skybrows; they give you chicken salad and sandwiches and--only try to get it. I"m so hungry I could eat the island, thanks to you. I could eat a whisk-broom. Follow you and I"ll starve."
"Did you ever eat any of that kid"s hunter"s stew?" Townsend asked as he rowed.
"Did we?" said Roy. "It"s the best thing I know of if you want to stay home from school."
"It"s kind of queer," said Townsend.
"Oh, yes, mysterious," said Warde.
"Let"s talk of something pleasant," said Roy.
"Well, I"m pretty hungry, too," said Townsend.
"We"ll soon be there," said Warde. "We had something of a scare, didn"t we?"
"All"s well that ends well," said Townsend.
"Oh, sure," said Roy, "only you don"t end so _well_ after eating hunter"s stew. We should worry, we"ll have all the stuff pretty soon now. Narrow escape, hey? _Oh, boy_, it would have been terrible to lose all that stuff. It looked like an altar, didn"t it?"
"It"ll look like a vacuum when we get through with it," said Warde.
"Do you think we can get it all in the boat?"
"If we can"t, we"ll tow the icing cakes behind," said Roy. "What _I"m_ thinking fond thoughts about is the ice cream."
"Same here," said Townsend.
"Same here," said Warde.
And meanwhile the man in the moon winked down at Pee-wee.
CHAPTER XXII
IN THE GLARE OF THE SEARCH-LIGHT
Now the tide is a funny thing, especially in a small suburban river.
The banks of a river being for the most part sloping, the river bed is narrower at the bottom than at the top. You don"t have to wear gla.s.ses to see that. That is why the tide, as it recedes, runs faster and faster; because during the last hour or two of its recession it flows in narrower confines. This has been the settled policy of nature for many centuries, and it was so ordered for the benefit of Pee-wee Harris.
When the Merry-go-round Island floated leisurely against the Skybrow lawn the tide had been flowing out for about an hour. When this same rechristened island broke loose disguised as an earthly paradise, the tide was in a great hurry. And when the earthly paradise caught upon the flats the little remaining water was running as if it were going to catch a train.
Rapidly, ever so rapidly, the water slid down off the flats to join the hurrying water in the channel. And, presto, all of a sudden there was the Isle of Desserts high and dry surrounded by an ocean of oozy mud while the river, narrowed to a mere brook, rushed in its channel some fifty feet distant. And there you are.
That is why the man in the moon (who knows all about the tides) winked at Pee-wee. At least, I suppose that is why he winked.
You could not have reached the Isle of Desserts with a boat or with snow-shoes or with stilts or with anything except an airplane.
Swimming to it was out of the question. Shouting and screaming to it was feasible, of course. Radio operations were conceivable. But reach it no one could. The adventurer would have been swallowed in mud.
This safe isolation would continue for a couple of hours and then the playful water would come rippling in again spreading a glinting coverlet over the flats once more and lifting the island upon its swelling bosom.
Down the narrowing river rowed our rescuing crew, and as they rowed the river narrowed. Soon the lantern light on the island was abreast of them, some forty or fifty feet distant.
"h.e.l.lo, over there," called Warde.