CHAPTER IX

THE LITTLE CITIZENS’ PICNIC

As the time drew near for the large farm-wagons to arrive at the camp to convey the Little Citizens to the picnic ground, many eyes kept turning in the direction of the farm-yard, and every few moments one could hear a whisper of: “When will they come, do you think?”

Finally, however, a rumbling was heard and a great shout went up: “Here they come! Is everybody ready?”

“Hurrah!” “Hurry up, everyone!” and other calls made the camp sound like Bedlam for a time. The cook had ordered her assistants to pack the large baskets with all sorts of goodies, and these most valuable items of luggage were safely placed under the high seats of the farm-wagons.

While the men were superintending this work, some of the boys clambered up on the front seat and sat beside the drivers--quite a post of honor, too, to sit there! The other Little Citizens piled in wherever a seat could be found, and soon the merry, noisy crowd was ready to start.

Meantime the two touring cars had gone on to find the place and see that all was ready for the reception of the others.

On the way, the Mother’s Helpers and “First Aides” had much to do to keep order and peace in the crowded wagons of happy children. Finally the lake was seen and a loud clamoring came from throats eager to have a rough-and-tumble frolic once more--such as was common in the city.

The Police and Firemen forgot their duties in the general scramble for the boats, of which there were three.

“Citizens! Don’t anyone get into the boats--I find they are not water-proof!” shouted Uncle Ben through his hand-megaphone.

“Oh gee! What’s the fun of comin’ here if we can’t sail?” grumbled one of the Street Cleaning Department.

“Say, Muller, don’t you give de Boss any sass, now, er I’ll lock yeh up fer de day!” threatened a Policeman, roused to an abnormal sense of duty.

“Who’s givin’ him sass! Can’t a feller ask a question widdout de police buttin’ in?” complained Jakey Muller.

“Dass all right! Jest don’t say nawthin’, see!” returned the Policeman, as he hurried away to watch a base-ball drawing for pitcher and batter in the forthcoming game.

“Humph! Think ye’re smart ’cause yuh got on a blue uniform. Ef I wants to sail de boat, I does, so there!” mumbled Jakey to himself, as he watched the Policeman disappear.

“Heigh, Jakey--come on over and see the fun!” now called a friend a short distance away.

The discontented boy turned and saw some friends waiting for the farm-hands to finish putting up some fine swings, but such a tame form of sport failed to attract the Little Citizen, who had determined to ride in a boat or do nothing at all.

Soon after this a score or more of children were having lots of fun swinging and being the motive-power back of the swings, for “pushing” the others so high that they would scream in dread of falling was more delight than being in the swing screaming!

A group of Little Citizens were paddling in the edge of the pond, watched over by Little Mothers and a few grown-ups. A group went exploring up the hillside, feeling sure that a bear’s cave, or perhaps, the secret home of the Wood Nymphs would be found on the expedition.

Uncle Ben and some of his helpers were clearing away the brush and stones that were in the way of a smooth eating-spot. The grass must be clean and level, for dinner to be safely served there. The boys were wildly applauding a “home-run” and some of the riders in the swings were “letting the old cat die,” when Jakey stepped into a boat just to sit down and rock it for fun!

A crowd of little girls were playing “drop the handkerchief” and other outdoor games, when Jakey felt lonely in the boat. He decided to ask others to join him.

“Hey, H’lena Bissel--come on over and sit by me--it’s lots of fun rockin’ t’ boat!” called he.

“Mister Uncle Ben told us not to an’ I won’t!” called back Helena.

“Don’t then! Sugar-lump!--sugar-lump, too good to melt!” taunted Jakey, making a grimace at the little girl.

“I ain’t ‘sugar ner spice’ but you’re nuttin’ but ‘snails an’ puppy-dog tails,’ so!” jeered Helena, who had heard the Mother Goose line and wanted to repeat it at the first occasion.

“Mamma’s pet! Mamma’s pet--what can’t do what she wants cuz she’s too goody-good!” replied Jakey, turning his back upon the angry little girl.

Helena marched away from his company, and soon Jakey saw Maggie’s little sister Prunel with nothing to do.

“Come and play wid me, Prunel,” coaxed he, not mentioning the boat this time as it seemed to inspire his hearers with doubt and fear.

Prunel (where Maggie had found the name is hard to say) was really named Polly, but such harsh sounds could not be tolerated by Mother Maggie, and when she took control of the six younger sisters and brothers, she saw to it that each one had a beautiful name, thus Polly became Prunel.

Prunel was about seven and very energetic for her age. It took much of Maggie’s time and thought to keep Prunel out of mischief at Happy Hills. In the city, Prunel had to attend school and look after a short route of newspaper deliveries after school.

“What’che playin’, Jakey?” asked Prunel, coming over to the lake-side.

“Oh I’m a navy battle-ship and dat submarine’s tryin’ to blow me up. I am shootin’ him all to pieces, see?”

As he explained, Jakey aimed stone after stone at the nearest boat while he stood balancing himself in the other boat.

“Shall I be the German what shoots the torpedo?” asked Prunel, all intense interest.

“Naw, you git in wid me and both of us kin sink him, I guess,” replied Jakey.

“It won’t be half as much fun as if we had someone to really fight,” suggested Prunel.

“I got a fine idea--you jus’ get in here quick!”

So Prunel, without knowing it had been forbidden, got in the boat with Jakey, eager to hear his plan.

“I’m goin’ to break dis rope what holds the boat, yeh see, an’ float around both dose submarines by holdin’ fast to dese overhanging branches, see?”

“Don’t you let go on ’em--cuz yeh hain’t got no rope er oars to get back wid,” warned Prunel, anxiously.

“Do you t’ink I’m such a silly?” said Jakey, as the boat swung about to the great excitement of both sailors.

It bumped into the end of the other boat, and the children laughed gayly as Jakey said: “Maybe I diden’ jar dat Hun dat trip, eh?”

“It would be heaps more fun if you’d get in anudder boat and play shoot at mine. I could fire back, and we could see which one gets hit t’ most--den he would be sunk, you know!” said Prunel.

“It sounds good--say, you keep in dis boat while I jump in dat one. You’ve got a lot of stones left but I kin get some from the bank in a minute,” consented Jakey.

Jakey went to the end of the boat and stood upon the prow waiting for an opportunity to spring over into the adjoining boat. This was easy to do, and soon he jumped and landed safely in the bottom of the flat boat, but the impetus he used when springing sent the other boat out from under him and Prunel, being alone and without any hold on willow-branch or rope, was floated out from shore.

“Say, Jakey Muller--hurry out and get me back!” called Prunel, but not loud enough for the others to hear, as she knew it was not just what she should have done without asking permission.

“S-sh! Wait a minute! I’ll wade out and pull you back!” replied Jakey, in a low voice also.

He sat down and pulled off his sandals and stockings, but the boat had caught the edge of the current that made a channel quite near shore at this spot of the lake.

He endeavored to reach the end of the boat but it eluded his hand. Then he waded deeper and tried again, still the boat moved outward and Prunel was becoming frightened.

“Oh pshaw--I gotta jump fer it!” growled Jakey, and at that he reached quickly while taking a far-advanced step. His foot went in a hole, and he fell face downward into the lake. The boat sped onward now faster, as it felt the carrying tide of the current.

Before Jakey could regain his footing and splutter out the water that choked him and blinded his eyes, Prunel was at least fifty feet from shore. She had remained perfectly quiet until now, thinking Jakey would surely rescue her. But when she saw him fall, and get up again without hope of reaching her, she began to whimper with fear.

Jakey took a last look at her and with fear in his eyes as he thought of his disobedience, he turned to run away from the picnic grove--even if he had to run all the way back to the city. He could not face Uncle Ben’s stern rebuke, for he was sure he would be properly scolded and punished for breaking a law.

Had not Maggie seen a boat with one passenger skim out in the direction of the old grist-mill, Prunel might have met with more serious disaster than that which befell her craft.

“Looka dere, Miss Marting! A little girl is out in a boat alone,” called Maggie to her friend.

“Why--it’s----” Miss Martin quickly glanced at Maggie before completing her sentence.

But Maggie, too, saw a resemblance to Prunel. She hurriedly hunted about amongst the groups of children, and not finding her sister anywhere, she shouted to one of the Policemen.

In the meantime, Miss Martin, understanding the situation, ran to tell Uncle Ben what had happened to Prunel. He called upon the Police and Firemen nearest him and all ran to the place where the three boats had been tied but a short time before.

Here they saw Jakey wading from the water and taking to his heels so the Policeman who had warned him cried: “Now what’che gone and done?”

Jakey trembled from head to foot as he was caught and brought back to Uncle Ben. Then he explained how the accident had happened to Prunel. As he hurriedly described the scene, the Police found that neither boat had any oars so pursuit to bring back the water-waif in that way was out of the question.

“Can anyone swim dat far?” questioned one of the firemen.

“Not in fresh water--I kin swim anywhere in salt water,” returned one of the boys.

“Mebbe de boat’ll float in to shore down furder. Mister Uncle Ben, dere’s a finger of land runs out way down, you see!”

“But there is also a mill-race just the other side of that finger of land, and the current to the mill runs mighty fast about that jutting bank. If the boat doesn’t come in or isn’t caught before it reaches that place it is impossible to say what may be the consequences. An old water-wheel turns the mill and the race feeds the wheel. The child is in danger out there with no means of helping herself and we are here with no way to reach her,” said Uncle Ben, anxiously.

“What’s all the excitement--anyone fall overboard?” called Jinks, coming up and asking his question laughingly.

“Little Prunel is afloat in that boat--see her down the lake there?” replied Mete, who was standing beside Uncle Ben.

“Great Scott! And all of you standing around here doing nothing?” cried Jinks, scornfully, running away to the squad of Police who were still umpiring the last game of ball.

“Hey there! Dutchy--did you bring your dog?” yelled Jinks, when he had covered half the distance between the two groups.

“Yeh! Why?” came back the answer.

“What’s Jinks going to do with the dog?” asked Uncle Ben, starting to run after the boy, and thus starting all the other boys on the ground running after him. Inside of a minute the long line of boys running, looked like a thriller in a moving-picture play.

“Leave it to Jinks to think up some way of rescue!” called Ned and Mete, panting beside Uncle Ben.

“Remember that fire we went to when we were on the Canal trip?” added Don, who came just too late to do all the talking to Jinks.

Before the crowd of curious boys reached the spot where Jinks had hurriedly explained the situation to Bill, the two boys and a few of the ball-players had started off along the shore, calling and whistling to the great mongrel dog that was Bill’s beloved and particular care.

The shaggy, tawny hound came crashing from the bushes with tail wagging joyously at the unusual outing he was given that day. When Bill saw him, he snapped his fingers and called excitedly:

“Crummie go in and fetch! Fetch it out, good ol’ doggie!” and at the same time, he threw a stone far out into the lake to attract the dog’s attention to the water.

Crummie went in ker-splash and swam about for a short time looking for the object which his master had thrown for him to bring out again.

“Say, Dutchy, Prunel is too far out for the dog to reach--let’s run along shore till we get to the finger over there. You see, the current runs quite close in to shore there and we can send Crummie out from that spot. Maybe we can tie a rope to his collar and let him swim out with it to the boat, then we can pull the girl in to shore,” quickly explained Jinks.

“Fine! Say you, Dink Brown--run back and get a rope er somethin’ fer us, will you? We’ll be down on that finger waitin’ fer you. Mebbe we kin shout an’ make the kid hear what we want her to do,” replied Bill.

Before he had completed his sentence, Dink was running back to Uncle Ben to ask for a rope. Then the other boys with the dog ran swiftly away to the spot Jinks had designated.

As they ran, Jinks found a section of newspaper on the pathway, and this he caught up and began rolling into a long tube.

“What’s ’at fer?” asked Bill.

“Make a megaphone for us to call through, you know.”

“Big idea! Make it wide at the open end so’s she can git the call better. If you make it narrow the sound won’t go out so clear, you see.”

At the finger of land, Jinks stood out on a large rock and shouted and shouted at Prunel who was crying fearfully and kneeling in the bottom of the boat while clinging to the oar-lock.

At the echo of Jinks’ call she looked about but did not at first see the boys standing where the channel curved in towards land. At the second shout, however, she looked in the direction from which the sound came, and stopped wailing as she saw the group of police waiting to assist her.

Then she heard her name called and listened to what was said.

“We’re going to send the dog out to the boat--you call ‘Here Crummie! here Crummie!’ as soon as he goes in the water. He will come to you and then you will find a rope tied to his collar. Fasten the rope to the ring in the boat and we will haul you in!”

It needed several trials before Prunel understood the plan, but once she did it was all right, although the boat was fast reaching the place where the current flowed in towards land so the dog had to hurry out with the rope if it was to work as planned.

“Here I come--get him ready!” called the boy who had been sent for the rope.

The boys turned and saw him racing along with a long coil of swing rope that had been hastily cut down to use. Dink, being the swiftest runner in camp, was soon back with the Police and Jinks.

One end of the rope was tied to Crummie’s old leather collar and then he was sent in to bring out Prunel. At the same time Jinks shouted through the megaphone:

“Call him, Prunel! Call him, again and again, till he reaches you with the rope.”

Then they heard the little girl cry excitedly: “Here Crummie! Here Crummie!”

“See her over there, Crummie? Fetch her out! Fetch her out, I say! Go get it--get it--good doggie!” coaxed Bill.

And Crummie, sniffing over the water, saw the approaching boat and heard the child’s cry for help. Instantly the yellow dog understood what was required of him and in he went, dragging the long line of rope after him.

The boys on shore held their breath so the dog would not be confused, and Prunel kept on calling, “Here Crummie! Here Crummie! Good dog--come to me, Crummie!”

And the dog swam as fast as he could in a direct line for the object he saw on the surface of the lake. He came within five feet of it when it swept past him in the current now running fast to the mill-race.

Groans and cries on shore showed that more than one anxious group were watching the efforts of the brave dog. But Crummie was of the nature that resents failure or trickery. He was of the dogged kind that will fight harder in spite of all obstacles, and perseverance and persistence always win out!

Crummie kept on swimming after the boat while Prunel continued calling and pleading, and the boys on the bank kept on anxiously letting the rope out and wondering if it was long enough to reach.

“Gee, Jinks, it’s the end!” gasped Bill.

And just as Jinks was about to give up in despair, one of the other boys yelled: “By golly! Crummie’s got hold of the rope that dragged after the boat!”

Everyone strained their eyes to see, and sure enough the dog had caught hold of the rope that had tied the boat to the bank and was swimming back the way he came against the current.

The struggling animal was not making much headway against the swift stream and Jinks instantly saw that he would tire himself out and be useless, so he signaled to Bill, and the two ran through the bushes growing on the shore and reached a place opposite the boat. Then Jinks called again to the dog.

“Here, Crummie! Crummie, come in here!”

At the strange voice, the dog stopped battling against the current but did not turn. However, Bill saw through Jinks’ idea and quickly abetted him.

“Here, good old Crummie! Fetch it home! Fetch it home!”

And at his master’s well-known call, the dog turned and swam for shore where the two boys were waiting to help. Jinks pulled off his shoes and stockings, rolled up his trousers and waded in as far as he could. When Crummie came within arm’s reach, Jinks leaned out to catch hold of the rope, but the dog growled fiercely.

“Ha, ha, ha! Crummie won’t let you interfere! He don’t know what you’re after--mebbe you want to take away the prize he’s bringin’ in to me!” laughed Bill, delightedly, now that the strain was over.

Even Jinks laughed at the treatment he had been given by the dog, but Crummie dragged the rope straight up to his master and left it in his hands. Then it was seen that the rope that had been tied to the old collar had torn it away and was out in the lake.

“When did the swing rope break?” asked Don, who failed to understand.

“Soon after the strain came on it, most likely,” said Mete.

“I’ll tell you what I think!” ventured Uncle Ben, who had hurried up with Maggie, and now stood patting Crummie’s wet, matted head.

The children all looked at him for an opinion, and he continued:

“I think that Crummie would have gone for that boat and found his own way to drag it back to land, whether any of you boys had interfered with him or not. Now, seeing that our hero dog lost his neck-band in his effort to save a life, I shall award him the medal for bravery this month. Anyone opposing this motion say ‘No!’; if there is no opposition and everyone agrees with me that Crummie shall have the prize let us all say ‘Aye!’”

Such a tremendous shout of “Ayes” went out instantly, that Crummie was unanimously voted the hero for the month, and Bill was the proudest boy in camp.

“What’s the prize going to be, Uncle Ben?” asked Don.

“Oh something that Crummie will appreciate and everyone will stop to admire and read. I’m thinking a wonderful studded collar with his name and the story of the rescue engraved on a silver plate might be suitable.”

“Oh yes--yes, indeed!” chorused most of the Blue Birds and Bobolinks.

“And, Uncle Ben, spend a lot of money on it to make it as big and shiny as you can,” advised Dot Starr.

“How much money do you think will do?” asked Uncle Ben, teasingly.

“Well, you know how much a funeral for Prunel would have cost if Crummie hadn’t saved her life, so you might as well spend that much anyway,” replied Dot in all seriousness.

“Oh, I’ve got an idea!” cried Don, inspired by his twin’s words. “Have it tell on the collar that the prize is a souvenir of a watery grave that was never filled by the saved child ’cause Crummie was here to fly to the rescue--you might say ‘swim’ to the rescue, only it doesn’t sound as grand as ‘fly.’”

Everyone laughed heartily at Don’s suggestion, and Ned said: “Don’s growing a streak of poesy and we all had better beware or he’ll rhyme us into jingles some day.”

Don scorned such ideas, and after giving Ned a meaning look, he said: “I wouldn’t be anything so silly as a jingler like Ned Talmage is! I’m going to buy Crummie and start a kennel of fine life-saving dogs to send to the Allies! So there!”

“Ha! that’s why Don wants Uncle Ben to spend all that funeral money on a collar. He’ll sell the collar and keep the money to found the kennels!” laughed Mete, in a big brother’s tone of voice.

“Say, you kids! Don’t fool yourselves on dat score! Dis dog is mine and he stays mine till the las’ trumpet blows--see!” was the last word from Crummie’s master, and the yellow dog wagged his tail approvingly as he blinked up into Bill’s blue-green eyes.