Camp Fires of the Wolf Patrol. Douglas Alan Captain. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Douglas Alan Captain
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wasting a second Elmer had sped that way.

      So fast did he run that he easily outstripped the rest, and reached the spot where Ty and Nat stood on the bank, beckoning wildly to him, while they stared out upon the eddying water.

      One look Elmer gave. It enabled him to glimpse something white emerging from the foamy water, and a pair of arms beat wildly in the air. Then he sprang in, and hand over hand made for the spot.

      Luckily he had arrived just below, so that the chances of his reaching the drowning lad were better than would have otherwise been the case if he had the swift current against him.

      Perhaps in all his life Elmer Chenowith never struck out with such intense eagerness, for he had seen that something serious must have happened to Jasper, since he was under the surface of the water most of the time and undoubtedly gulping in great quantities of it.

      Keeping his eyes fastened on the struggling figure as best he could, Elmer made his way furiously through the surging Sweetwater. Just at this place, on account of a decided drop in the bed of the river, there was a swift current and considerable foam around the rocks that partly blocked the rapids.

      "He's got him!" shrilled Tom Cropsey.

      "But look out, Elmer; don't let him get a grip on you! Size up the way Jasper is fighting to get hold of him! Oh! he nearly did it, then! What ought we to do, fellows? If he grabs Elmer they'll just both drown!"

      It was Red Huggins who thus gave vent to his feelings. He generally became so excited in an emergency that he could not collect his wits enough to be of any great use. And it was fortunate that all of those present were not built upon the same model as impulsive Red.

      Mr. Garrabrant had snatched up a rope as he ran. Perhaps, with rare wisdom the long-headed scout master had even placed it there, looking to a possible sudden need for such a thing.

      He had no occasion to ask where the thrilling event was taking place. Every boy was staring in that one quarter, and before he even saw the two figures in the swirl of the yeasty river Mr. Garrabrant realized the condition of affairs.

      He found that Elmer had managed to seize the drowning boy from behind, always the very best method of doing in such a case. Had he been unable to accomplish this, and the frenzied Jasper seized upon him, doubtless Elmer would have broken away, even though he might have had to strike the other quite sharply in the face and partly stun him to do so. Better that, than that both should go down together.

      So Elmer was endeavoring to push the other in toward shore. Sometimes the water would go over them both with a rush, for they happened to be in one of the roughest parts of the river.

      Mr. Garrabrant sized up the situation at a single glance. Then he ran down the shore a dozen paces, and started to wade into the river.

      "Here, take hold of this end of the rope, boys!" he cried, as he came upon several of the scouts who were standing knee deep in the water, seemingly half paralyzed by the terrible nature of the scene before them.

      Mark Cummings had just arrived on the scene. He had been dressing in the tent at the time the alarm sounded. Regardless of the fact that he had on his clothes, he sprang into the water alongside the scout master.

      Together they buffeted the waves, and made for the approaching pair. Elmer saw them coming and redoubled his efforts to keep the drowning boy afloat, and at the same time avoid being clasped in his desperate embrace.

      Then friendly hands were laid upon them, and with three to take charge, Jasper was borne to the land. He had collapsed before the shore was reached, and the balance of the boys gathered around, staring in great fear at his pallid face.

      Mr. Garrabrant knew the theory of restoring a person who has come very near being drowned; but it chanced that Elmer had more than once had active participation in that sort of work. So he lost no time in stretching poor Jasper, face down, on the ground, placing his knees on his back, and having his arms worked regularly by some of the boys, while he pressed downward, again and again with considerable force, so as to induce artificial breathing.

      As Jasper was not far gone he quickly responded to this rough but effective treatment. He belched out a small Niagara of water, groaned, trembled, and finally tried to beg them to have a little mercy on him, saying that he was now all right, upon which the boys of course ceased their efforts intended to bring him to.

      Breakfast was slow in coming along that morning. Ginger had been tremendously unnerved by the exciting spectacle of the rescue of the drowning lad, and he continuously made all sorts of foolish blunders while trying to cook, so that in the end Mr. Garrabrant chased him away and set Elmer and Ty Collins at the job, both of whom he knew were very good cooks.

      Afterwards the tents had to come down, and the entire outfit be stored away in the two boats which were intended to carry them the balance of the way.

      Ginger sent the horse and wagon back in charge of the other colored man, and announced himself prepared to accompany the troop into the heart of the wilderness. He was so good-natured, and they could make use of him to do much of the drudgery of the camp; so Mr. Garrabrant decided to let Ginger go along, even though he was not to be trusted to get their meals any longer.

      The boats were stoutly built, and of a good size. Both were capable of being rowed by two pairs of oars: and, indeed, this was rendered quite necessary by the swiftness of the Sweetwater in parts.

      Once they reached the first little lake and the worst part of the struggle would be over; after that the going must prove much easier.

      At first the scouts considered the rowing a picnic. That lasted less than ten minutes. Then, as the strain of the current started to tell upon them, grunts began to be heard, and these were followed by heavy sighs and glum faces.

      Blisters began to appear on palms that were quite unused to labor of this severe kind. True, Mr. Garrabrant in one boat, and Elmer in the other, tried to show the greenhorns how they could save themselves much of this pain by proper handling of the oars; but like everything else, experience after all was bound to be the best guide.

      A number of the lads, however, were more or less familiar with rowing, even though there was no body of water close to the town on the railroad known as Hickory Ridge. Of course Elmer himself took an oar, and kept up his part of the drudgery from start to finish; and his chum Mark also did his share with credit.

      There were places where the river widened, and the current was less savage. Here those who tugged at the oars managed to rest up a bit for the next hard pull.

      So the morning passed with frequent rests, for Mr. Garrabrant knew better than utterly to weary his command in the beginning. They were, after all, out for sport; and it would have been an unwise move on his part to have sickened the tenderfeet scouts before they had had a fair chance to get hardened to it.

      Just before noon the boy in the bow of the leading boat gave a yell.

      "What is it?" asked the scout master.

      "I just had a squint at a body of water, sir; and I think it must have been a lake," replied Jack Armitage, who was in the boat with the Wolf Patrol, Ginger working one of the oars in the other craft.

      "That must be the first lake, Jupiter they call it," Mr. Garrabrant went on.

      "Hurrah! that means a rest, and lunch, fellows!" cried Lil Artha, who had been resting after his turn at rowing.

      "Don't crow too soon," barked Toby, mysteriously. "The worst is yet to come. Remember that these two lakes are joined by Paradise Creek. I've heard that stream is worse than the river here to pull against."

      "That's where you're mistaken, Toby," remarked Elmer. "I talked with a lumberman, and also a sportsman who comes up here every fall to shoot wild ducks on the lake they call Solitude. Both of them assured me that once we got to this point our troubles would be over. So cheer up, my hearties, the pulling will be a picnic after this."

      Then they passed out from the head of the romantic Sweetwater. The lake was a pretty little sheet of water, with shores that, as a rule, were wooded; though in several places it looked as though farms ran down to the water's edge.

      The boys soon clamored to get ashore and stretch their weary