"The tide won't be high enough to float this island
for two hours."
"Don't!" called Warde, stopping up his ears. "Have a heart."
"Have a what?" called Pee-wee.
"Have a doughnut," shouted Roy.
"All right," called Pee-wee. "There's some dandy cheese here in a kind
of a little jar--_yum--yum_!"
"Don't!" shrieked Warde.
"Doughnut?" called Pee-wee.
"No, I said '_don't_'," called Warde. "You'll have me eating one of
the oarlocks in a minute."
Soon a faint chugging could be heard; it ceased, presumably at the
Skybrow lawn, then started again. Nearer and nearer it came until
presently the racing boat of Dashway Speeder came to a stop alongside
them. Half a dozen girls and as many hungry male guests of the party
were in it clamoring for news.
"This is terrible!" said Minerva. "I never _dreamed_ of such a thing
as this. Why, he's _marooned_!"
"I'm all safe," shouted Pee-wee, "don't you worry."
"_Safe_! I should think he is," said Dora. "If he had the British
navy all around him he couldn't be safer."
"The world is at his feet," said Townsend.
"You mean at his mouth," said Roy.
"I never heard of such a thing in all my born days," said Margaret.
"He's cornered the food market," said another hungry guest.
"For goodness' sake turn your search-light on him, Dashway," said
Minerva, "and let's see what he looks like. This is simply _tragic_."
Dashway Speeder turned the search-light of his launch across the fiats
and there amid the surrounding mud, still bubbling from the effects of
the departing tide, was presented a scene like unto a picture on a
movie screen.
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