Barbour Ralph Henry
Four Afoot: Being the Adventures of the Big Four on the Highway

“I can’t!” whined Will. He was huddled in a corner of the cockpit, white and trembling.

“Can’t swim!” echoed Dan incredulously. “Well, if that isn’t the limit!”

“Kick that coil of rope over here,” said Nelson, ducking from a wave that came washing over them. Dan obeyed. Nelson passed the end around Will, under his arms, and knotted it. “When I tell you to jump, you jump; understand?”

There was no answer, and Nelson waited for none.

“I’ll race you ashore, Dan,” he cried.

“All right! Coming, Bob? Coming, Tom?”

“You bu-bu-bet!” answered Tom. Bob, who held Barry in his arms, nodded.

“Think Barry can make it, Dan?” he asked.

“I’ll take him,” said Dan. “I hate to leave my coat and shoes behind, though.”

“We’ll have to,” said Nelson. “Wait! I saw a cod line here somewhere, didn’t I?”

“Here it is,” answered Tom.

“Good! We’ll make a bundle of the clothes, lash ’em together well, and maybe we can get ’em ashore.”

So they did it, stumbling and gasping under the assault of the waves that broke against the boat and dashed across, drenching them from head to feet. Finally all was ready.

“Here goes,” said Nelson, climbing out of the cockpit and balancing himself for an instant on the sloping, heaving deck. Then he leaped far out into the water. Dan was after him in the instant. Bob threw the bundle of clothes out, for the other end of the line was fastened around Nelson’s waist. Then Tom followed. Bob caught a glimpse of Barry’s wet head and frightened eyes as Dan arose to the surface and struck out for the shore. Bob knotted about him the rope to which Will was lashed, and turned to the boy.

“When I call for you to jump, you jump,” he said. “You needn’t be afraid; we’ll haul you in all right.”

Will looked at him silently with wide, terror-stricken eyes, and made no answer. Twenty yards away three dark objects appeared and disappeared in the green-and-white ferment. Bob climbed to the rail and leaped. The waves tried their best to smother him when he came up to the surface, but he fought for breath, and the rest was not difficult. Wind and tide set strongly toward the land, and he could not have helped going there had he tried. It seemed scarcely a minute before he felt the beach under him, and was tossed, gasping and struggling in a white smother, into the arms of Dan, who had waded out toward him. He climbed to his feet, and unknotted the rope.

“Now, all together,” he said. “Jump!”

The boat was an indistinct blur, some two hundred yards out, and as they shouted they strained their eyes for sight of the fisherman’s boy. But they couldn’t see surely, and after an instant they pulled vigorously on the rope. It came fast.

“He must be swimming,” said Tom.

“Swimming!” answered Nelson in angry disgust. “The fool has untied the line!”

CHAPTER XX
FOLLOWS WITH A RESCUE, AND INTRODUCES FRIENDS IN NEED

“If he has,” said Bob quietly, “he’ll probably drown out there before night.”

They pulled the empty line in silently. Barry, wet and woe-begone, huddled himself against the storm, and watched out of reach of the waves.

“I wonder if there’s a boat around here,” said Nelson.

They turned and looked about them. They seemed to be on the end of the island, for beyond them at a little distance the waves raced by a sandy point. To their right, as they faced inland, a beach stretched away until lost in the blur of the beating rain. In front of them was beach grass, flattened under the wind, and beyond, on higher ground, a few stunted cedars and underbrush.

“We’ll have to find one,” said Nelson. “Two of us had better stay here, and two go and hunt. Who’ll stay?”

“I will, if you say so,” answered Tom.

“All right, Tom and I’ll stay,” said Nelson. “You and Dan see what you can find. Maybe there’s a path or a road up there; looks as though there might be. You’d better put your coats on.”

“Can’t get any wetter,” answered Dan, shivering. They untied the bundle, which had come safely ashore, and pulled their dripping coats on. Then, with Barry beside them, they started off, and in a minute were out of sight.

It was weary waiting there on the beach with the rain pelting them, and the wind chilling them through and through.

“If we only had a fire,” chattered Tom.

Every now and then they faced the wind, and tried to make the boy in the sloop hear them. But it is doubtful if he did, for their words seemed to be blown back into their faces. Nelson looked at his watch. The soaking had not affected it, and it proclaimed the time to be twenty minutes past four.

“It’ll be dark before very long,” he said, “if this storm keeps up.”

“What time did we start?” asked Tom.

“I didn’t notice, but I guess it was about a quarter to three.”

A half hour passed, and another had almost gone, when a faint hail reached them. It seemed at first to come from the sloop, and they put their hands before their mouths and answered as loudly as they could. Then it came again, and unmistakably from behind them. They looked, and presently, like gray wraiths, figures appeared against the sky line.

“They’ve got one!” cried Tom.

Toward them came two persons and a horse drawing a dory.

“Here’s your boat!” called Bob. “And, say, this isn’t an island at all; it’s some old point! This gentleman lives about half a mile down the road, and he’s going to help us.”

The second person proved to be a big chap of twenty-eight or thirty in yellow oilskins.

“How are you, boys?” he said. “Where does she lie?”

They pointed out the location of the sloop.

“Struck on the bar,” said the man. “Well, we’ll have your friend safe in no time. Get up there, Prince!”

The horse moved down to the water, and was unhitched.

“But where’s Dan?” asked Tom.

“He had a beast of a chill, and I made him stay behind at the fire,” answered Bob. “But he said he was coming along in a minute. We had an awful time finding anybody. Got off the road, and pretty near wandered back into the bay on the other side over there. This chap’s all right. He was out harnessing that plug of his before we were through telling him.”

“Which of you fellows can row?” asked the stranger.

“All of us,” answered Tom.

“Well, I’ve only got two pairs of oars, so I guess one will be enough.” He turned to Bob. “Want to come?”

“Sure,” said Bob, “unless – ” He looked at Nelson.

“No, go ahead, old chap,” Nelson answered. “You did the hard work, and ought to have the glory. I’ll stay here and look after Tommy.”

So Bob scrambled into the dory, and the stranger pushed off. They had launched at a point some little distance up the beach, and presently, when they had struggled through the breakers, they turned the boat’s nose out to sea, and worked along toward the bar. It was wet work, but not dangerous, for with careful management a dory will lift itself over the worst sea that ever ran. When they approached the sloop the stranger hailed, but there was no answer.

“You don’t suppose he jumped and lost the rope, do you?” he shouted to Bob.

“Don’t believe so,” was the reply. “He’s probably too scared to answer.”

They worked the dory around to the lee of the sloop, and found that Bob’s theory was the correct one. Will lay in the cockpit, very scared and very, very seasick. He opened his eyes when they called to him, but evidently he was incapable of making any further effort. The stranger dropped his oars, waited his chance, and then leaped to the slippery deck. Bob held the dory as near as he could. The stranger picked up the boy and shoved the limp body over the side.

“Bring her up till she bumps,” he said.

Bob obeyed, and Will slid into the dory to lie supinely against the seat with the water washing about his legs. The owner of the dory tumbled in after him, saved himself from going out the other side, and seized his oars.

“All right!” he cried. “Push her off! We’ll go back the way we came. I’m afraid we might get carried by the point if we tried it here.”

By the time they were in the breakers again Dan had joined Tom and Nelson, and all three waded out, and dragged the boat up. Will was lifted out and borne up the beach.

“We’ll have to carry him, I guess,” said Dan.

“Put him right back in the dory when we get it on the road,” said the stranger. “It’ll be rough, but he’s had it rougher already and won’t mind, I guess.”

So, presently, with Will lying at full length in the bottom of the dory, and the others trudging beside, the procession started inland. Fifteen minutes of battle against the elements brought them to a neat and cosy little red cottage standing in a grove of cedars a short distance from the beach. Lights gleamed from the windows, and Tom and Nelson cheered feebly.

There was a roaring fire in the open fireplace of the little living room into which they were ushered, and the mellow glow of a big lamp added to the comfort of the scene. Nelson backed up to the flames, stretched himself, and grinned like the Cheshire cat.

“This is simply great!” he said with a sigh.

The host brought a little bright-faced woman and introduced her as Mrs. Cozzens, and Bob introduced Nelson and Dan and Tom with ludicrous formality considering the fact that they were all dripping wet.

“You’ll want to get your things off and dry yourselves,” said Mrs. Cozzens. “So you go right upstairs to the guest room, and Mr. Cozzens will look after you.”

Will, who had been propped up in a big armchair before the fire, began to show signs of returning animation. He lifted his head and looked about the room.

“Hello,” said Nelson. “Feeling better?”

“I guess so,” was the faint answer.

“He’d better go right to bed,” said the woman. “You carry him up, John.”

Nelson assisted, and Will was put to bed. Their host returned presently with something hot in a cup and made Will sip it. After that, in spite of the fact the others were changing their wet garments for all the clothes, old and new, that Mr. Cozzens could find and making a lot of noise about it, Will went sound asleep on his cot. When the Four were finally ready to return to the living room they were a strange-looking quartette. Mr. Cozzens’s garments were much too large for even Bob, and sleeves and legs had to be turned up generously. Tom was a striking figure in a pair of old white tennis trousers and a red sweater, while Bob in a brown canvas shooting jacket, Dan in a pair of duck trousers and a Tuxedo coat, and Nelson in a suit of blue serge that could have gone around him twice were not far behind in point of picturesqueness. They went downstairs laughing merrily to find Mr. Cozzens with a tray containing cups of steaming coffee in his hands.

“I was just going to take this up to you, boys. Here, sit down by the fire and put this down. It’ll do you good. There’s cream in it, and the sugar’s in the bowl. Hello! No spoons? Jennie, what did you think they were going to stir with? Their fingers?”

Mrs. Cozzens hurried laughingly in with the teaspoons, and the boys made short work of the coffee.

“Supper’ll be ready in a little while,” said their host. “Did you spread your things out around the stove upstairs?”

“Yes, sir. They’ll be dry before very long, I guess,” Dan answered.

“I think we’d ought to get on,” said Bob half-heartedly.

“Get on? Not while this storm lasts,” replied Mr. Cozzens. “Why, you’d like as not walk into the bay! It’s as black as pitch outdoors. And that reminds me I ought to be out in the stable this minute.”

“Let me help, sir?” said Nelson, jumping up. Mr. Cozzens pressed him gently but firmly back into his chair.

“You sit right there, my boy, until supper’s ready. After supper we’ll talk about your going on. Meanwhile you’ll find books and papers around if you look, and if you smoke – ?”

“No, sir,” answered Bob. “We’ll do finely, sir.”

“Don’t smoke, eh? Well, you’re sensible. Do without it as long as you can. When you can’t, smoke a pipe and leave cigarettes alone. That’s my advice, and ’tain’t so many years since I was a boy myself.”

He went out, and the Four, left to their own devices, talked until the crackling wood fire made its influence felt and lulled them to drowsy silence. Barry, stretched as near the flames as safety allowed, actually snored. And then, just when they were on the point of falling asleep, Mr. Cozzens returned with a cheerful slamming of doors and stamping of feet, and looked in on them on his way upstairs.

“All right, eh?” he asked. “Supper’s almost ready.”

Nelson smiled half-sleepily, watched the door close, and then picked a book at random from the table beside him. It didn’t promise to be very interesting, for it was a volume on Montaigne, and Nelson had small affection for that gentleman. As he returned the book to its place an inscription on the fly leaf met his eyes.

“H. Dana Cozzens, St. Alfred’s School,” he read.

Then their host, since he was a bit too old to be a student, must be an instructor. Nelson wondered where St. Alfred’s was, doubtful of ever having heard of it before. His conjectures were interrupted by the summons to supper.

The meal was a simple one, but everything was nicely cooked, and there was plenty of it. The Four ate until Bob, as spokesman, felt driven to apologies.

“We don’t always eat like this, Mrs. Cozzens,” he assured the hostess. “At least, none of us except Tom. I haven’t any excuse to offer for him; he’s beyond them.”

They told their afternoon’s adventure, and asked what Mr. Cozzens thought about the sloop.

“Well, it’s moderated a whole lot,” was the answer, “and if she hasn’t broken up any by this time, she won’t. She’ll probably have some of her planks sprung, but I don’t think she’ll be much worse for her accident. Now, you boys had better stay right here until morning. There’s no occasion to turn out in this storm and get all soaked up again. We can put you up without any trouble if you don’t mind being a little crowded.”

They didn’t mind it at all, only —

“Call it settled then,” interrupted Mr. Cozzens. “We’ve got plenty of cots even if our space is limited. We don’t often entertain a whole ship’s crew, you see. In fact, we’re pretty well out of the way out here on the point, and our friends, all except a few, leave us alone. That’s one reason I built here,” laughed the host. “When summer comes I want a real vacation, and that to me means rest and ease and old clothes.”

“I should think it would be fine here,” said Bob.

“It is; I’m sorry you haven’t seen it in good weather. The next time you’re over this way you must come and see us. Any time from the first of July to the twentieth of September you’ll find us at home. Well, shall we adjourn to the other room and let the lady of the house clear the table?”

Back in the living room Mr. Cozzens picked a pipe from a tray, and began filling it from a big jar of tobacco.

“It was something of an accident that you boys found me at home to-day,” he said thoughtfully. “I’m glad you did, for there isn’t another cottage for nearly a mile. I was going up to New York this morning on business, but when I reached the village I found so much mail to be answered that I postponed the trip.” He paused and smiled. “I was going to look for a boy, and now Fate has presented me with five.”

“How’d I do, sir?” asked Tom promptly.

“I’m afraid you wouldn’t like the job,” laughed Mr. Cozzens. “I’d like to have you, but – ”

“Take me, Mr. Cozzens,” interrupted Dan. “I don’t know what the work is, but I’ll bet I can do it.”

“All right,” answered their host with a twinkle in his eye. “The wages are one dollar a week, and you get your board. In return for that munificent salary I expect you to get up at six-thirty, attend to the furnace, look after the horse, run errands, shovel snow, wash windows now and then, and, in short, make yourself as useful as you know how. Appeal to you, does it?”

“Well, I never washed a window yet,” answered Dan, “but I guess I could do it. Anyhow, I wouldn’t have to go back to school.”

“Eh? But you’d be at school,” replied Mr. Cozzens.

“How is that, sir?”

“That’s where I want the boy; at my school in Oak Park, St. Alfred’s.”

“Oh!” said Dan blankly, amid the laughter of the others. “That would be out of the frying pan into the fire, I guess.”

“Out of St. Eustace into St. Alfred’s,” supplemented Bob.

“Do you go to St. Eustace?” asked Mr. Cozzens.

“Yes, sir.”

“And the rest of you?”

“No, the others don’t amount to much, sir. Nelson and Tom go to Hillton, and Bob there is in the high school at Portland.”

“I see. I have an instructor with me who graduated from Hillton; Mr. Hopkinson; ever hear of him? He was a good deal before your time, though, I guess.”

“Where is Oak Park, sir?” asked Tom.

“It’s near the north shore about midway between Hempstead and Cold Spring Harbor. A very attractive place, Oak Park.”

“And you’re the Principal, sir?”

“Yes, or Head Master, as we call it. The school isn’t a large one. We had thirty-two boys last year. But it’s been in existence only four years.”

“And – and the boy you hire, sir?” continued Tom with rising excitement, “cu-cu-cu-could he do any studying?”

“Why, yes, I should want him to. Are you thinking of applying?” asked Mr. Cozzens with a smile.

“No, sir, bu-bu-bu-but I – I – ” He stopped and looked at Nelson and Bob and Dan, who, suddenly guessing what Tom was thinking of, all tried to speak at once.

“Jerry!” cried Dan.

“Just the thing!” cried Nelson.

“We know the very fellow you want, sir!” added Bob.

“Well, this is interesting,” said Mr. Cozzens. “Who is he?”

“You tell him, Bob,” said Nelson. “Tom’s excited, and it would take him all night.”

So Bob told about their meeting with Jerry Hinkley in the barn near Bakerville, of their plans for his education, and of their subsequent encounter at the circus. It was rather a long story, and Mr. Cozzens frequently interrupted the narration with his questions, but when it was finished their host was clearly impressed.

“If you can get hold of that boy,” he said, “you do it. Send him right to me at Oak Park. I shall be there in three days. I can’t make any promises, but if he turns out what I expect from your description he will suit me nicely. And if he’s really eager to learn, and has an ordinary amount of pluck, he ought to be able to do very well at St. Alfred’s. He will be pretty busy, for there’s plenty to do, but he will have time to attend all classes, and to study some outside. In fact, it ought to be the very place for him. He’s sixteen, you say, but backward? He’d probably have to start with the younger boys, but if he showed willingness I’d do all I could to put him along. Whether at the end of the year he would be able to pass the examinations for Hillton, I can’t say. It will depend a great deal on himself. But I should think that, with some help during the summer, as you had planned, he ought to be able to pass. You will see him, you say, at Barrington?”

“Yes, sir; at least, we hope to,” answered Bob. “He said when we left him that he expected to be there about the twentieth. I hope we will find him! When does your school begin, sir?”

“On the twenty-third, but I should like to have him there as soon after the twentieth as possible. Supposing you let me hear from you after you get to Barrington? Let me know whether to expect him, for if you don’t run across him I’ll have to look for some one else.”

“All right, sir, we’ll telegraph you at Oak Park as soon as we get to Barrington. I hope he’ll suit, sir, for Jerry is a fine chap, and we all want him to get on. You see, we – we’ve adopted him in a sort of way, sir!”

“I see you have,” laughed Mr. Cozzens. “And very good of you it is,” he added seriously. “I hope your plans for him will turn out splendidly, and if he comes to me you may trust me to do all I can for him.”

“Yes, sir, we do,” answered Tom earnestly.

“Well, I guess I’d better go up and have a look at the invalid,” said Mr. Cozzens. “Don’t hurry off,” he added as the others rose. “It isn’t late; sit up just as long as you want to.”

“I guess we’re all about ready for bed,” said Bob. “I know I am.”

So they followed their host upstairs. Will was sleeping as soundly as though he had not been at it four hours already. Mr. Cozzens said good night, and the Four prepared for bed. But, in spite of their proclaimed sleepiness, they were too highly elated and excited over Jerry’s prospects to drop off immediately, and it was all of an hour later when they finished discussing them. Tom had a way of getting in the last word, and to-night was no exception.

“Isn’t it funny how things happen?” said Nelson. “Who’d have thought when we got shipwrecked out there on the point that it was going to turn out like this?”

“That’s so,” Dan replied sleepily. “Talk about luck!”

There was silence for a minute. Then Tom’s voice came solemnly across the dark from his cot in the comer.

“It isn’t altogether luck,” he said. “I guess God had a good deal to do with it.”