Barbour Ralph Henry
Four in Camp: A Story of Summer Adventures in the New Hampshire Woods

CHAPTER XIX
CONCERNS ITSELF WITH THE DANGEROUS PLIGHT OF DAN AND NELSON AND THE COURAGE OF THE LATTER

As long as he lives Nelson will never recall that struggle through the angry waters without a sudden sinking of the heart. Wind and wave were dead against him, mocking his frantic efforts at haste, burying him for moments at a time in ugly swirls of white-frothed water, that blinded and confused him. In those moments which, brief as they must have been, seemed minutes long, the monotonous sound of rushing wind and splashing wave were silenced and only the stealthy swish of water flowing over his submerged head reached him. It was pleasant, that calm, after the confusion of the world above, and once he found himself giving way to a sort of stupor. What was the use of struggling? Under the water it was calm and peaceful; down here there was rest for tired limbs. Involuntarily his aching arms and legs ceased their labors, and even the swirling of water past his ears no longer came to him, and he knew that he was sinking. Then the benumbing stupor passed, fright gripped him with icy hands at his heart, he opened his mouth to cry aloud, and arose, fighting wildly, to the surface, his lungs half filled with water. For a moment a panic held him; he fancied unseen hands were clutching at him, striving to drag him down again to that awful stillness, and he thrashed and struggled and shrieked at the leaden sky. Then recollection of Dan came to him and the terror passed. Blinking his streaming eyes, he looked about him. Almost at hand was something half submerged that at first he thought might be his companion. But as he reached it, swimming hand over hand with the waves breaking above his head, he saw that it was only the canoe tent, which, partly on account of its wooden pole and partly because a certain amount of air was imprisoned beneath the canvas, was still afloat. Grasping it with one hand he turned to search the water. And as he turned fingers gripped themselves about his wrist in a feeble clutch and Dan’s face arose white and drawn beside him. The eyes were wide open and staring, and for a moment Nelson believed that they were the eyes of a dead person. But the clutching fingers told a different tale, and as he reached across the tent and seized Dan under one armpit the staring eyes seemed to flicker with recognition. Then the lids closed slowly, wearily over them.

He was not dead, thought Nelson with a sudden rush of blood to his chilled heart. And then, driving before it that brief sensation of relief, came to him a knowledge of the hopelessness of their situation. The canoe was drifting bottom upward hundreds of feet away. No hail came from Bob or Tom. He must keep afloat himself and sustain Dan as well, and for aid there was only the canvas tent lashed about its pole and already half water-logged. But the feeling of panic was a thing of the past. Even fear had gone from him. Discouragement was left, but with it was a determination to fight the battle to the very end and win if strength and wit could do it.

After a moment, during which he strove merely to keep his head above water and regain his breath, he set about getting Dan over the tent. The latter would not hold the weight of both of them, but it might keep Dan up for a while. It was hard work, with the waves battling against his every effort, but at last he succeeded in getting Dan’s shoulders over the bundle of canvas. Then, with a firm grasp on the other’s forearm, he let himself float. To swim was out of the question, since it would only exhaust what little strength remained to him. The wind and waves were already bearing them along to some extent toward land. Sooner or later Bob must discover the disaster and turn back, and all that could be done was to keep afloat until he came. The minutes passed. Dan’s eyes remained closed, but the lids flickered now and then. Once Nelson strove to wake him by calling his name, but there was no response; and as it exhausted his breath Nelson gave it up. One thing he was thankful for during those lagging minutes, and that was his and Dan’s attire. The light jerseys and trunks were scarcely more than bathing suits, and even the rubber-soled canvas shoes added little to their difficulties. With something almost approaching a smile he wondered what Mr. Carey would have done in his place, wearing the clothes which they had envied him an hour or so before.

Presently he began to feel drowsy and longed to close his eyes for a moment, but was afraid to do so. The canvas tent lost more and more of its buoyancy as the imprisoned air escaped, and Nelson dreaded the moment when it would no longer give him aid. It seemed at least an hour since the overturning of the canoe and yet could have been scarcely more than ten minutes. Time and again he strove to lift himself high enough from the water to see over the white crests, but always his view encompassed only seething lake and dull, stormy sky. His arms and legs ached. The water, warm when the involuntary bath had begun, now felt like ice against his body, and his teeth chattered together whenever he opened his mouth. Dan’s face looked blue, and the fear that he would die before rescue arrived began to creep into Nelson’s heart. Suddenly there came a strain on his arm and he looked and saw the end of the canvas bundle disappearing under the water. Seizing Dan by the shoulder of his jersey, Nelson pulled the other toward him so that his head and upper part of the body lay across his chest. So, with the waves washing over them, they floated awhile, Nelson swimming slowly with legs and one arm. But it couldn’t keep up long, that sort of thing, and he knew it. And with the knowledge came a certain sensation of relief. He had struggled almost as long as human power was capable of; surely he had done his duty, and now —

His half-closed eyes suddenly opened. Surely he had heard —

“Coming! Don’t give up, boys!”

The cry now reached him plainly, borne on the rushing wind, and told of succor near at hand. He had lost all sense of direction, nor did he try to recognize the voice. His first sensation was one of mild annoyance. It seemed so silly to bother about rescuing him now. He was sure that Dan was drowned and sure that he had but a moment or two longer to struggle himself. They would try to haul him into the canoe, and things would be very fussy and troublesome; he would much rather be left alone. However, since they insisted he would do what they asked. And so he urged his weary limbs to further effort and was still afloat with one hand gripping Dan’s arm when a boat shot alongside.

The next thing he knew he was still rocking in the waves, as it seemed, and the dark clouds were still racing across the heavens above him. But the water had grown delightfully warm, and he felt deliciously comfortable. Some one, it must have been Dan, of course, said:

“Hard on your left! All right; you’re straight for the pier!”

It was a foolish thing for Dan to say, and Nelson closed his eyes again in an effort to puzzle out the meaning. And doing so he fell asleep once more, and didn’t wake again until an hour later to find himself snug and warm in a big white bed with a sound of crackling flames in his ears. A little bald-headed man was leaning over him holding out a spoon, and Nelson obediently opened his mouth. Some one said something about supper, and the word suggested many things to him, and he closed his eyes again and scowled his forehead and tried to think. Plainly he was no longer in danger of drowning, for people don’t drown in beds. They had rescued him and brought him ashore, and he was – where was he? He opened his eyes and moved his head. Things were dimly familiar and he was sure he knew the man by the hearth. And – yes, there was Bob.

“Hello, Bob,” he whispered. He had meant to say it right out loud just to let Bob know that all was well with him, and the result surprised and annoyed him. But Bob had heard, and he came over and put a hand on Nelson’s shoulder.

“How are you feeling, Nel?” he asked with affected cheerfulness. Nelson considered a moment. Then:

“Hungry,” he said. This time it wasn’t so much of a whisper and he was encouraged. “Where’s Dan?” he asked.

“In the next room. He’s – he’s all right, Nel,” was the answer. Then the little bald-headed man, whom Nelson didn’t know, came and took his hand.

“Don’t talk now, my boy. Try to go to sleep. When you wake up next time you shall have some supper.”

Nelson viewed him suspiciously, but the face was rather a nice face even if it did extend up to the back of the head, and so he closed his eyes and forgot everything very quickly.

Later he awoke again to find the room in darkness. But even as he opened his mouth to demand attention a match was scratched and the room became so bright that he had to blink his eyes. A nice-looking woman came and sat on the side of the bed and stirred a spoon around in a blue-and-white bowl.

“Are you awake?” she asked. “Here’s your supper. Don’t get up, but just turn your head this way and I’ll feed it to you. It’s beef tea. Do you like it?”

“Yes,” answered Nelson. “Thank you.”

It tasted terribly good, he thought, and between spoonfuls he surreptitiously studied her face. He had seen her before, only – he couldn’t think where.

“Would you mind telling me your name, please?” he asked presently.

“I’m Mrs. Carey,” she answered smilingly. “Have you forgotten me?”

Then he remembered and understood.

“No, ma’am,” he answered. “That is, not now. I guess I’m in your house again, but I don’t see how I got here, do you?”

“Mr. Carey was watching you from the landing when your canoe was overturned, and he and Mr. Merrill and the skipper went out to you in a boat and brought you in. But you mustn’t talk. The doctor said so.”

“What doctor?”

“Dr. Ames. He came over from the mainland, where he has a cottage.”

Nelson pondered this between mouthfuls of hot broth. Then:

“Is Dan alive?” he asked.

“Yes; you will see him in the morning. Now, that’s all. You are to have some more at nine.”

“What time is it now, please?”

“Half past six.”

“That’s a pretty long time, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Oh, but you’re going to sleep now and you won’t know how long it is. I’ll turn the light down low so it won’t hurt your eyes. Is there anything else you’d like?”

“No ma’am, thank you. You – you won’t forget, will you?”

“Forget – ?”

“I mean about the broth at nine o’clock,” he explained wistfully.

“Indeed I won’t,” she answered heartily. “And I wish I could give you some more now, but the doctor said – ”

Nelson never learned what the doctor said, for he fell asleep just then. Later there was another brief waking spell and more hot broth. And then, in some strange way, it became morning, and the sun was shining in the window at the foot of the bed, and the birds were celebrating the passing of the storm. While he was still stretching his limbs and trying to recollect things the door opened and Mr. Carey came in.

“Well, how’s the boy, eh?” he asked. “Feeling pretty good after your bath, are you?”

“Fine, sir. Can I get up?”

“Surely you can. Breakfast will be ready in half an hour. I’ll send your clothes up; I guess they’re dry by this time. Take your time and rest off if you feel weak. I’ll look in again presently to see how you’re getting on.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll be all right. Mrs. Carey said you went out and picked us up, and I’m very much obliged – I mean – ” He paused, at a loss for words to express what he did mean. “It sounds awfully foolish to say you’re very much obliged to a person for saving your life, doesn’t it, sir? But I don’t know quite what to say, and – ”

“Well, well, don’t let it trouble you, my boy. What we did is what any one would have done, and I’m mighty glad we were here to do it. You did a pretty plucky thing yourself, and after that our little rescue doesn’t look like much.”

“I guess we wouldn’t look like much if you hadn’t come along, sir,” said Nelson soberly. “We’re not likely to forget it, sir, I can tell you that!”

“Well, well, we won’t say anything more about it, eh? All’s well that ends well, and – er – I’ll send your clothes up.”

CHAPTER XX
RELATES THE CONCLUSION OF THE TRIP AND WHAT HAPPENED AT CAMP

Half an hour afterward Nelson passed along the gallery and down the stairs into the arms of Tom, who hugged him ecstatically and stuttered his delight; and of Bob, who, if less demonstrative, showed his pleasure none the less plainly. Mr. Merrill shook hands in a way that brought the color into Nelson’s cheeks, and the ladies when they appeared a few moments later were so attentive that Nelson’s blushes threatened to become permanent. When they were seated at table only Dan was absent, and Nelson asked if he was not coming down.

“No,” answered Mr. Carey. “The fact is, your friend had a pretty narrow call. It took us all of half an hour to bring him around. He had swallowed about a gallon of lake water and had played himself out pretty well besides. But he’s all right now, and I’m only waiting for the doctor to come over before I let him up. ‘Orders is orders,’ you know. But of course you can go up and see him whenever you like. He’s asked for you once or twice already.”

Nelson wanted to go then and there, but consideration for his hosts led him to await the end of the meal. There were a great many questions to answer, and he had to tell his side of the adventure from start to finish. Then Mr. Carey and Bob began comparing notes, and pretty soon Nelson had a very good idea of what had happened.

“After I got back here to the house I began to worry about you chaps,” said Mr. Carey, “and pretty soon I took the field-glasses and went down to the pier. From there I could see you pretty well, but those canoes looked mighty small, just the same! I happened to have the glasses on the nearest canoe when the accident happened. I saw Speede stand up and then stumble and go over. The glasses made it look so near that I yelled like sixty. Then when I’d found the place again the canoe was drifting along bottom upward and there were two fellows in the water. Well, I knew they’d never make the canoe in that wind, so I shouted for Mr. Merrill here and Barry, my skipper, and we had the skiff out in no time. But it was a long ways out to where you were, and I thought we’d never get there. And when we did get alongside I thought we were too late. Two deader-looking live men I never saw in my life! The waves were washing all over you two, Tilford, and you seemed on the point of sinking. But you had hold of Speede good and hard; it was all we could do to loosen your grasp on his arm, and I guess he’ll have a black-and-blue bracelet there for some time. Hethington and Ferris got there in the canoe a moment later and helped us get you two into the boat. From the looks of them I guess they’d done some tall paddling.”

“We did,” said Bob grimly. “It was Tommy who discovered you had gone. He looked around when we were pretty near land and let out a yell. Then we turned the canoe and started back. It was like pulling yourself up by your shoe-straps. The wind was almost on our quarter and we could just see that we were moving. Tommy paddled like an Indian. And all the time he kept yelling to me to hurry up, just as though I wasn’t breaking my back at every stroke! As it was, though, he pulled me around several times; I was in the bow. I thought we’d never get to the canoe; we could see it now and then over the waves; and when we did we found you two weren’t there, and had to start off on another course.”

“Tommy was like a crazy man; kept crying that you were both drowned and that it was our fault for leaving you. And I was – was pretty well worried myself. Then we saw Mr. Carey’s boat, though we didn’t know then who was in it, and we made toward it, and pretty soon we saw you two chaps floating around in the water like a couple of logs. And Tommy was for jumping over and swimming to you. Nel, you certainly had the pluck. If it hadn’t been for you Dan would have drowned before we could have turned around or Mr. Carey could have started out there.”

“But I don’t understand about Dan,” said Nelson. “He can swim like a fish. I never thought that anything was the matter with him until I looked back and couldn’t see him.”

“Cramps,” said Mr. Carey. “He told me this morning that he couldn’t seem to move himself below the waist. He got pretty warm paddling, I suppose, and then when he went overboard the shock was too intense. He had a close shave of it, and he owes his life to you, Tilford.”

“And we both owe our lives to you, sir. If you’ll excuse me I’d like to go up and see him a minute.”

“Certainly,” said Mrs. Carey. “I’ll see that cook keeps some waffles hot for you.”

“He’s in the room next to yours, further along the gallery,” said her husband.

Nelson didn’t knock because he thought Dan might be asleep and he didn’t want to wake him. But when he had cautiously opened the door and peeked in he saw Dan sitting up in bed and smiling broadly at him.

“Hello, Life Saver!” called Dan.

Nelson bounded across and seized his hand.

“Dan, are you all right?” he asked eagerly. “Gee, I’m glad to see you, you old chump!”

“I’m feeling right as a trivet. What’s a trivet, anyway, Nel?”

“Oh, a thingumbob with three legs,” laughed Nelson.

“Well, I’m glad I wasn’t one of them yesterday. Two legs were all I wanted. They ached like thunder and I couldn’t swim a stroke. Nel, you saved my life, and – ”

“Cut it out! If any one says anything more about saving lives, I’ll – I’ll hurt them!”

“I dare say it is a bore,” answered Dan soberly, “having folks talk about it, but I want you to know that – that I’m mighty grateful, old fellow, and that if the chance ever comes for me to even things up, why, you can count on your Uncle Daniel. It was a swell thing to do, Nel, stand by me like that, only I wasn’t worth it and you might have got drowned yourself. That’s all. I won’t bother you with any more thanks, only – only – ” Dan’s hand found Nelson’s on the coverlid and squeezed it until Nelson winced. Then: “Where’s that fussy old doctor?” he asked. Nelson, relieved at the change of subject, laughed.

“He will be along pretty soon. If you’re all right he’s going to let you get up. Then we can get the afternoon train back.”

“Of course I’m all right; right as a three-legged thingumbob. Say, won’t Clint be waxy? He’ll never let us out of his sight again.”

“I suppose he’ll have to be told?” said Nelson ruefully.

“I guess so; it’s up to us to tell him, Nel. Not that I want to, you know, but – well, it’s more honest.”

“That’s so; I guess we’d better. Say, Dan, these Careys have been mighty good. We’d ought to do something for them. Do you think we could?”

“I’d like to, but I don’t see what we could do. We’ll have to think it over. Maybe Bob can suggest something. He’s got a heap of sense, that chap.”

Then Mr. Carey and the doctor came in and Nelson left the room. Dan was pronounced able to travel, and at two o’clock, after thanking the ladies and promising to come again when they could, they loaded their canoes on to the steam-yacht – the overturned craft had been recovered the evening before – and, with Mr. Carey and Mr. Merrill accompanying, were taken over to The Weirs in time to catch the afternoon train for Warder. At the landing more good-bys were said.

“I want you boys to promise to come and visit us here some time, this year if you can; if not, next. And when you’re in New York look us up. Both Mrs. Carey and I will be delighted to have you. We feel a sort of proprietary interest in you after yesterday’s little incident and don’t want to lose sight of you completely. I’ve written a line or two to Mr. Clinton, so I guess you won’t get lectured very hard. Good-by and good luck, boys!” And Mr. Carey shook hands all around, was followed by Mr. Merrill and the skipper, and at last the train pulled out, the Four waving from the car steps until the crowded platform was a speck in the distance.

“He’s a swell fellow,” said Dan, as they sought their seats. “And we’ve got to make him a present or something.”

“Good scheme,” said Bob heartily. And they talked it over most of the way up to Warder, and finally decided that a silver loving cup with a suitable inscription would be as appropriate as anything they could afford.

“We’ll put her name on it too,” said Tom.

“Mrs. Carey’s?” asked Bob. “You bet we will!”

“Sure!” said Nelson. “I’ll never forget that beef broth she fed me!”

They caught the five o’clock launch, as they had planned, and climbed the hill to camp just as the last supper-call was blowing.

“That sounds good,” muttered Dan. “It’s like getting home.”

When they entered Poplar Hall and sought their seats at the tables it was at once evident that the news of yesterday’s escapade had preceded them. Such a hand-clapping and cheering as burst forth was quite disconcerting, and Nelson, at whom the most of it was directed, poured milk into his bowl of cereal until it overflowed and ran into his lap. After supper the Four were mobbed and made to give a public recital of events; but long before Bob, to whom the task of narration fell, had finished they were summoned to the office. After all, it wasn’t so bad. Mr. Clinton had some forcible things to say to Dan on the subject of standing up in a canoe during a wind, but after that he demanded the story and became so interested that they began to take courage. And afterward he complimented Nelson and shook hands with him.

“It was a bad business,” he said gravely, “but it’s happily over with, and there’s no use denying that you all acted in a sensible, plucky way. I’ve had a letter from this Mr. Carey in which he begs me to go easy with you. I don’t think I should have been very hard on you anyhow. It was an accident arising from a piece of foolhardiness that none of you are likely to repeat. It will probably be worth all it has cost as a lesson to you. It is a good thing to learn the limitations of a canoe. You’d better get to bed early to-night, all of you, and I’ll ask Doctor Smith to have a look at you, Speede, and see if you need any medicine. Good night.”

“Good night, sir,” they chorused. And outside they heaved sighs of relief.

“I think,” said Dan thoughtfully, as they picked their way across the darkening clearing toward Birch Hall, “I think it’s about up to us to settle down and be good for a while.”