CHAPTER 11 A TEST FOR SNOW WHITE

THE hours at Silver Beach were all too short for the Brownie Scouts. It seemed to them that they never had time to accomplish half the things they wanted to do.

Most intriguing of all was the sea itself. Each morning it coaxed them in for a swim. By the time the girls had taken their sun baths and searched for shells it was nearly lunch time.

“The days are just flying,” Connie sighed. “Before we know it, we’ll be returning to Rosedale.”

“We haven’t learned anything more about that little ship house either,” Vevi replied soberly. “So many things are undone. We haven’t even found Miss Gordon’s wrist watch.”

Now the teacher long ago had given up all thought of recovering the missing timepiece. The Brownies, however, kept hoping that the watch would be found in the sand. Nearly every day when they were on the beach, they would dig around, hoping to find it.

Since Vevi and Connie had visited the pigeon cote, all of the Brownies wanted to go there. Whenever the troop went on a hike, the girls usually walked in the direction of Mr. Green’s loft.

The pigeon breeder would not allow the Brownies inside the building lest they disturb the birds. It was fun though, to stand outside, watching the pigeons drop into the roof traps after long flights.

The racers would alight on the building and walk along the eaves. When they stepped into one of the traps, Mr. Green could reach up and grab them by the legs. Then he would feed them and put them in their cages.

Some of the pigeons had gray and blue plumage with black bars on each wing. Others had feathers in a salt and pepper effect. The less common birds were black, red, yellow and silver. Vevi did not see a single one that appeared as white as the pigeon she had found near the lighthouse.

She asked Mr. Green why he did not have more white racers.

“White birds are more prone to attack by hawks,” he explained. “By the way, your bird has recovered its strength again.”

“Then it’s ready to race?” the little girl asked eagerly.

“It’s as ready as it will ever be. As I said, I doubt the bird ever will be much good.”

“But you promised to give it one more chance.”

“So I did,” Mr. Green agreed. “I’m testing out a dozen birds today. I’ll include your pigeon in the lot.”

All the Brownies wanted to watch the test and Mr. Green agreed that they might. He told Mrs. Williams and Miss Gordon that he would release the birds at a point five miles away from the pigeon cote.

Everyone drove there in Mrs. William’s car. By the time they arrived, Mr. Green already had unloaded several wicker baskets of pigeons which he planned to release.

Vevi went over to talk to Snow White. The pigeon was in a basket by himself. His feathers were smooth and glossy and he looked as if he were in good condition for racing. At least Vevi thought so.

“Now you must do your very best today,” she said to the pigeon. “When Mr. Green tosses you into the air, fly straight home! Fly faster than any of the other birds!”

“You’re goofy, talking to a pigeon!” Jane teased, coming up behind her. “He can’t understand you.”

“Maybe he can,” Vevi insisted. “Anyway, you just wait! Snow White will do fine this time.”

The Brownies gathered around as Mr. Green prepared to release the pigeons.

“The birds are hungry, so they should fly directly to the loft,” he declared. “As soon as I’ve set them free, I’ll drive back. I want to be on hand to check their time as they arrive at the cote.”

Mr. Green tossed all of the birds into the air. They rose and circled once or twice. Then one by one they flew off in the direction of the pigeon loft.

“Snow White went with the others!” Vevi cried in delight. “I’ll bet he’s the first to reach the roost!”

Having released the birds, Mr. Green did not waste any time. He drove off home immediately. Mrs. Williams, Miss Gordon and the Brownies followed, but at a more leisurely rate.

“Can’t we drive faster?” Vevi urged impatiently.

“Not on this curving road,” Mrs. Williams replied. “We’ll be there soon enough.”

The pigeons had started to arrive by the time the Brownies finally reached Mr. Green’s place.

As the girls alighted from the car, they saw a gray-blue bird winging in to alight on the rooftop.

Vevi watched it fall into the trap and disappear. Then she ran to the door of the dove cote.

“Has Snow White come yet?” she shouted to the loft owner.

“Not yet,” Mr. Green replied. “Only three of the birds have come so far. I’m very busy now. Don’t bother me.”

Through the windows, the Brownies could see the loft owner seizing each bird as it arrived. He would record its number and exact time in a little book.

“Where is Snow White?” Vevi fretted as one after another of the pigeons arrived.

“Your old bird isn’t any good,” teased Jane.

“Wait and see,” Vevi retorted. “I think he’s coming now!”

She was wrong though. The bird which had settled on the roof was a light colored pigeon which from a distance had appeared almost white.

Mr. Green fed the bird and put it back in its cage. Then he appeared in the doorway of the pigeon cote.

“Well, they’re all in now except one,” he told the Brownies. “No use waiting for it, because it won’t show up.”

Vevi knew he meant Snow White. She was so disappointed she felt like crying.

“I’m sure it wasn’t Snow White’s fault,” she told Mr. Green. “Maybe his wing wasn’t entirely healed.”

“That could be,” agreed the pigeon breeder. “But I only tested the bird to please you. I’m through bothering with him even if he does show up later.”

All the Brownies, even Jane, had wanted the bird to make a satisfactory test. They were sorry that Snow White would never be given another chance.

So that the Brownies would not think too much about the lost bird, Miss Gordon proposed that everyone return to the beach for a swim.

Vevi only waded through the sand while the others took their lesson from Barney Fulsom. Spying Jamie Curry walking along in a maroon sweat shirt and brown shorts, she went over to tell him about Snow White’s misfortune.

“Say, I’d like to work for Mr. Green!” Jamie exclaimed. “I wonder how much he would pay?”

Without waiting for Vevi to answer, he went on quickly: “My father wouldn’t let me work there though. He doesn’t let me do anything I like. One of these days—soon too—I’ll run away again. Next time he won’t find me.”

Jamie had made the same remark before. So Vevi did not think he really meant it.

“Oh, Jamie,” she protested, “why would you want to do such a foolish thing?”

“You’d want to run away too if you knew what I do,” the boy hinted again.

Then he quickly changed the subject by asking Vevi if she had found a turtle for the Saturday race.

“Not yet,” she admitted. “I don’t know how to get one either.”

“It’s easy as falling off a log,” Jamie said. “Why don’t you try the pond again? Maybe you’ll catch that snapper I told you about.”

The boy added that if Vevi hoped to win a prize for the Brownies, she would have to enter the Saturday race.

“That will be the last one this season,” he told her. “My father said yesterday he’s going to give up his job and go west.”

“You’ll leave with him, Jamie?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

Vevi could not understand the boy’s strange attitude toward his father. Because he didn’t seem to care to talk about it, she spoke again of the turtle pond.

“Want me to take you there?” the boy offered. “I’ll catch you a dandy turtle.”

Vevi knew that Miss Gordon would not want her to go to the pond without an older person along. She realized too, that the other Brownies would not favor an outing there, for they were enjoying their swimming lesson.

“I guess I can’t go,” she said, her face downcast.

Just then, old Captain Tarwell strolled up to talk to the children. Hearing mention of the pond, he offered to take Jamie and Vevi.

“I want to stop at the cottage on the way,” he remarked. “I’ll be glad to have company. That is, if you’ll promise not to walk too fast.”

Miss Gordon said that Vevi might go. So off the three went, idling along so that the old seaman would not tire himself.

On their way to the pond, Captain Tarwell stopped briefly at the little ship cottage. He went inside for a moment to make certain no one had broken in since his last visit.

After snapping shut the padlock again, Captain Tarwell slipped the key under a loose shingle on the side of the house.

“Now you know my secret,” he said, “but I’ll trust you both not to tell where I keep the key.”

Vevi remarked wistfully that she wished the Brownie Scouts might hold their shell exhibition at the cottage.

“We wouldn’t damage anything,” she promised.

Captain Tarwell acted as if he had not heard the request. Telling the youngsters to come along, he started on down the road toward the pond.

The captain could not walk fast on his lame leg. Out of politeness, Vevi and Jamie kept exact pace.

“Hunting pond turtles puts me in mind of the days when I’d see giant tortoises roaming island beaches in the Pacific,” he remarked. “It’s fun to watch the big leatherbacks come out of the sea on moonlight nights to lay their eggs.”

“I’d like to run off to sea,” Jamie said.

Captain Tarwell gave the boy a quick, sidelong glance. “Better forget that idea, lad,” he said.

Then he went on to tell how the giant turtles would come out of the ocean on moonlight nights to dig holes for their eggs. He explained that the reptiles would cover the eggs with sand and return to the sea. Vevi hadn’t known that turtles laid eggs. Or that they left them for the sun to hatch. She asked what became of the turtle babies.

“As soon as they hatch, they creep down to the water,” Captain Tarwell explained. “There they feed on tadpoles, snails and insects.”

He told the children that one could guess a turtle’s age by the rims on its shell. “If a shell has six rims, then the turtle is six years old,” he said. “But after many years, the rims wear away, so then one can only estimate the age.”

By this time, the three had reached Cabell’s pond. Captain Tarwell sat down on the beach to smoke his pipe and rest. He said he would wait there and watch while the children caught turtles.

Stripping off shoes and stockings, Jamie boldly waded in.

Moving quietly into a patch of rushes, he soon caught a pancake turtle in his bare hands. But after he had examined it, he threw it back into the water.

“You don’t want this old fellow,” he called to Vevi. “He’s sickly. You’d never win a race with him.”

Jamie kept looking for other turtles. Soon he had caught three. But he let each one go. One had a broken shell and the other two were not active.

“I’d like ANY turtle,” Vevi declared.

Jamie paid no attention to her. He kept diving into the water with his hands. Now that he had stirred up the pond, the turtles were harder to catch. He waded farther and farther out into the pond trying to find them.

“Be careful,” warned Vevi.

“Oh, I can swim,” Jamie replied carelessly. “My father taught me how.”

Just as he spoke, he stepped into a deep hole. Falling forward, the boy made a terrific splash. As he scrambled to his feet his clothes were all wet.

Captain Tarwell walked down to the edge of the water.

“Avast, there!” he called to Jamie. “Time we start for home, son. You need some dry clothes.”

Jamie reluctantly waded back toward shore.

“Oh, dear,” murmured Vevi. “We have to leave, and after all our work, we have no turtle.”

“After all my work, you mean,” corrected Jamie. He grinned though, as he said it. Turtle hunting had been fun.

The boy suddenly stopped short, gazing toward a rotted log which stuck up out of the water.

He did not say a word for a moment. Then he whispered excitedly:

“Look over there!”

Vevi gazed at the log. At first she didn’t notice anything unusual. But as she kept looking, something moved. She caught a little flash of yellow.

Sunning itself on the log was a big snapping turtle. On its shell had been printed a name in yellow paint.

“That’s HIM!” whispered Jamie, moving stealthily through the water. “That’s Clover! Hold your breath, Vevi. I’m going to nail that old boy!”