THE WIG WAG RESCUE

“THEY’LL be sure to enjoy the shouting,” Julia remarked, “but aside from that, I don’t see what interest spectators can possibly work up in a wig wag contest.”

“We almost agree with you, Julie,” said Grace, “but don’t you know everything, including bad weather, is interesting at the beach?”

“All right, scouty, I’m glad of it, for I think it is going to be simply great. And wasn’t it splendid to get the sanction of headquarters?”

“Trust Cleo to take care of the official end,” replied Grace. “Don’t forget to-day is the day, and the pier is the place.”

Signs of activity about the life saving station always gathered a crowd, and to-day the appearance of the men in uniform, pulling out the life lines, hoisting the buoys and running the life boat down to the water, drew more than the usual number of spectators.

It was Scout Day and everybody seemed to know it.

The boys having agreed to accept the challenge of the girls, in true scout chivalry, now offered the girls every possible courtesy, even to choice of place at which to stand for the wig wag try out.

It was arranged that Captain Dave’s men were to row outside the fish nets, and wait there for their code to be waved to them for a “wreck off the hook.” The exactness and quickness with which the message was waved was to be judged by a committee of citizens with the mayor as the honorary leader.

It had all been carefully planned as a summer attraction, and the scouts were to share in honors for their respective troops.

The blare of the firemen’s band, affording more blare than music, proclaimed the time had come for a start, and the crack of Mayor Jones’ revolver gave the signal for a race through the sand to gain places.

Cleo, Grace, Margaret and Louise won the post for True Treds, they having outdistanced the boys who were led by Tommie Johnson, and who was said to stumble purposely so that the girls might reach the pier first. However that might be, the True Treds liked Tommie, and he seemed to like them “pretty well,” as Grace expressed it.

No chance for holding conversation as a contest preliminary, for the four scouts were scattered at regular distances over the five hundred foot pier, while the boys on the sand, were dotted at similar distances, each armed with the red and white signal flag.

An exhibition of signalling was first presented, and this evoked generous applause from the crowds that jammed the board walk. Naturally the girls from their platform on the pier, “looked the prettiest,” but the way they flashed their code did not admit of any self consciousness on the score of looks.

In a brief interval Grace waved to Louise a message in the True Tred secret code, and this was taken up by Cleo and Margaret who relayed it to Helen and Julia in their positions on the beach.

“Grace says ‘nervous,’” whispered Helen, “and she is never nervous. I wonder what she means?”

“Just joking, I guess. No, see they are sending ‘a,’ that’s error, of course,” replied Julia, holding her own flag up in the interrogatory slant.

But the signal for the second event precluded any possibility of following out the private messages and presently all were again wrapped in attention at the silent waving contest that language of distance, copied from the trees, and fashioned from the winds.

“Look! Look!” gasped Julia. “Louise is waving danger! What can be the matter.”

Frantically the little scout on the extreme end of the pier was spelling “danger,” then shooting her flag out to demand “attention.”

“Oh, it’s some one on the water,” whispered Helen, fearful of causing a panic in that crowd.

“And she is signalling the life boat,” gasped Julia. “But how far is it away?”

Suddenly Louise was seen to throw her flag high in the air, and dive from the pier!

Shouts, screams, and yells rent the air!

“The boat, the guard, the life line!” the air itself seemed to form the words, but only that speck at the end of the pier could be seen now, bobbing up and down, then yes it was a little boat, a canoe! That was what the scout had dived for!

If ever they had occasion to summon and use courage, the scouts, both boys and girls, had need of it now. Along the boardwalk the excitement was so intense as to cause danger of children being trampled on, and in this emergency those Girl Scouts not on the pier helped the Boy Scouts in efforts to prevent disaster.

But it was that tiny spot on the water that held the crowd with a bated breath.

“She must drown! Oh, that lovely girl!” they were gasping.

“Louise won’t drown,” said Julia, her face white as the muslin in her flag.

“No, Weasie can swim,” Helen assured her, holding her arm very tight, and begging comfort in the embrace.

“And we can’t even get near her,” moaned Julia, who just then had rescued a very little tot from a plunge down the high steps into the street.

“The line, the boat, they have her!” came another shout, and Julia wanted to sink on her knees.

“Oh, is the boat there? Can you see, Helen?” she begged.

“Yes, yes, it’s the life boat, they have come! Didn’t it seem an eternity?”

Instantly the accident occurred police officers had roped off the end of the pier to prevent any one rushing in, and now there stood at the steps the formidable ambulance.

“Oh, they must not take her to a hospital,” wailed Helen. “Let us get to her, Julia. She will surely be all right in a little while.”

“They are bringing them in a life boat,” a gentlemen with marine glasses said. He had seen their distress and recognized their uniform.

“Oh, thank you, but how can we get to them?” begged Julia. “If only we could move through this awful crowd.”

“I have a police whistle,” he said. “I’ll just blow it, and when the officer answers I’ll explain. Remain quietly where you are.”

The magic whistle shrilled its signal, and the crowd fell back, while the motorcycle officer answered. The gentleman quickly explained the situation, and the two girls climbed to the rear seat of the motor, where they clung, as the officer piloted them through the autos and street crowds up to the pier.

“They’re in! They’re in!” the people were now shouting. But Julia and Helen were almost afraid to look.

Leaving his motorcycle at the boardwalk, the officer led the girls down on the sands where the life boat had just made shore.

“Who is it, with her?” breathed Julia, for they could now see that Louise sat up in the boat and had some one in her arms.

“It’s Kitty!” shouted Helen. “She jumped to save Kitty. Oh, Louise, you darling! You brave little True Tred!” she cried. “Let me get to her.”

In another moment Julia and Helen were with Cleo and Margaret, who had easily climbed down the pier, and were there when the boat came in. Scarcely speaking, the little group waited for a space to reach the life boat.

Louise, dripping, and sobbing just a little, sat in the skiff with the seemingly lifeless form of Kitty in her arms. Quickly as landing was made one of the life savers picked up the unconscious girl, and rushed off with her, while another attempted to lift Louise.

“Oh, I’m all right,” she protested. “I don’t need any help at all.”

But Captain Dave was there and he took no such chance.

“Here, my girl,” he commanded in a voice of the seas. “Lean on me and come up to the station. Come along,” this to the other scouts, “and you young ones keep back there,” to the boys.

Louise took a few steps, then faltered. As if expecting this the captain stooped and lifted her in his arms, and it was a sight to remember, to see that old sailor, trudge along through the sands with the little girl scout almost on his broad shoulders.

And the remainder of the True Tred Troop were pressing along at his heels.

“Keep back there, keep away,” warned the kind officer to the surging crowd, for the unspoken admiration for the Girl Scouts was now mounting high.

Tommie Johnson was so proud of “his friends” that something like mutiny seemed imminent in the boys’ ranks.

“I told you, I told you!” he kept repeating, quite as if he had foretold the entire occurrence, when he only really referred to the courage of the Girl Scouts.

Up in the life saving station guards vied with one another in making hot tea, and giving such administrations as might benefit Louise, while she waited a few moments before being permitted to get in any one of the many cars, offered to take her home.

“But I am really only wet now,” she insisted finally, “and I want to get out of this heavy uniform.”

Realizing her mother might have heard any of the possible wild rumors, Captain Dave helped her into Cleo’s car and very proud indeed, was the old sailor, of the wig wag rescue.

“No surprise to me,” he told his men. “Those girls have the grit many a boy might well boast of, and when I saw her drop from that pier I did not have to hold my breath. I knew she’d make it.”

“But how did she see that speck of a canoe creep around the pier?” asked Jim Barstow, the oldest member of the crew next to Captain Dave.

“Maybe she felt it,” said the captain. “’Taint likely much would happen to Kitty without that little girl feeling it.” But his men knew nothing of the trust he was recalling, that might have formed the link of confidence between the scouts and Kitty Scuttle.

Elizabeth, wise little friend, had rushed from the pavilion to the home of Louise, to make sure no report of drowning should reach the ears of the anxious mother.

“It was the most glorious sight,” Elizabeth was just insisting when Gerald drew up with the blue car, and Louise jumped out into her mother’s arms.

“Up to the hospital, Jerry,” ordered Cleo. “We must see how Kitty is.”

Julia and Helen went with Cleo, and it was their uniform, as usual, that served as a pass, admitting them to the hospital.

Kitty had been revived, and was now becoming obstreperous, she insisted on going home, and was loudly declaring her Uncle Pete would die of fright, when he missed her and the canoe.

At the entrance of Cleo and Julia (Helen did not come in) Kitty all but bounced out of the little white bed, and then, when she could get her thin arms around Cleo’s neck then the tears fell.

“That will be good for her,” said the nurse very quietly to Julia. “She has been so wrought up, the outburst will relieve the strain.”

But how Kitty could cry! And how she did yell! Cleo patted her shoulders and soothed her with every sort of affectionate protestation, but all the girl seemed to want to do was cry, and cry she did for so long a time, the scouts felt more helpless with her than they had in the real critical stage of the emergency.

“You be good, Kitty,” said Cleo finally. “And I’ll go right up to the landing and shout for Uncle Pete. Then, when he comes over, I’ll tell him all about it that is how you are perfectly all right,” she corrected herself. “If you are very quiet, and good, maybe the nurse will let me in again to tell you what he says.”

“And do you think I’m going to stay in this horspittal all night?” protested Kitty. “Don’t I know what they did to my mother.”

This started another outburst, and seeing the hysterical child was not apt to soon be quieted, the nurse insisted on her swallowing a dose of bromide, and at that juncture the girls quietly stole from the bedside.

Gerald “dropped” Julia at her cottage, then Cleo and Helen were driven to the landing. No need to shout over to the island, for Uncle Pete stood there, on the narrow dock, watching the road with anxious eyes.

It was hard to assure him of Kitty’s safety, and only his personal knowledge of the power of the scouts, gleaned from his own experience when they had rescued him some weeks before, did finally allay his fears. “We’ll fetch her back, first thing in the morning,” they promised, and then they watched the old man pull his oars with a weary stroke, toward the lonely little island, called Luna Land.