start off from the pier and at this
the crowd was seen to disperse.

"I guess they are taking him home in a car," said Cleo. "Dear me, do you
suppose it was our fault that he fell overboard?"

"Why, no indeed," protested Margaret. "But we saved him. He might easily
have been lost if we hadn't. Somehow he seemed half asleep. He might
have really been sleeping. Boys often do that while out rowing."

They managed to catch the drifting boat, and Grace got in this to row.
As she did so she could not help observing a number of folded slips of
yellow paper that lay tossed aside, in the bottom of the boat. But Grace
had no thought of scrutinizing them. Somehow such an act would seem like
spying.

Briskly both boats were now rowed back to the landing. No one was near,
and when the scouts turned in their oars and paid for their boat, only
a boy was at the stand.

"Was he hurt?" asked Cleo eagerly.

"Oh no, just scared. He's all right," replied the boy handing out some
change.

"Who is he?" asked Grace frankly.

"Oh, a chap that lives at the Point--don't know his name. He's awful
quiet and queer--just reads his eyes out--no wonder he wears goggles,"
finished the clerk, turning to pop a soda for a waiting customer.

The girls breathed easier. Somehow they were each conscious of a dread,
and the boy's report had dispelled it as if by magic.

"Oh, say!" he called after them as they were moving away. "Are you the
girls who rescued him? Well, he especially warned me to get your names?"
This was in question.

"But we shouldn't like to have him bother thanking us," returned Cleo,
as spokesman. "We only did a scout duty."

"Oh yes, that's so. You're scouts. Aren't you? I'm a scout too, but we
haven't any girls' troop around here. Wish you would start one."

"We may," assented Margaret. "But did you talk to the boy after he
revived? Was he perfectly all right?" she questioned pointedly.

"Guess so, but he's a queer chap. Can't tell whether he's all right or
all wrong, he's such a stick. Excuse me, here's where I sell a real
order," and he hurried over to an old lady who was vainly trying to shut
an obstinate parasol.

Again the girls turned away, and the clerk had not fulfilled his promise
to get their names; neither had they obtained the name of the stricken
boy.

"But I feel a lot better," admitted Cleo. "Somehow, it isn't nice to see
a boy as still as he was."

"I should say not," added Grace. "And I couldn't help