WHAT SCOUTS KNOW.
Bud Morgan had started for the water, overcome with remorse and fear,
but Hugh far outstripped him in the race, reaching the imperiled lad
before Bud left the bank.
Just before the scout master arrived, and ere he could place his eager
hand on Whistling Smith, the latter went down again. This was the third
disappearance, and he was so terrified that there was great danger lest
it be the last. He had kept his mouth open most of the time, and must
have swallowed great quantities of water during his frantic struggles.
Hugh had anticipated just such a happening. He had kept a close watch
upon the other as he approached, and in this the light of the full moon
proved of great value, enabling him to see what was going on.
Quickly gauging the conditions, he dove and stretched out both hands,
seeking to clutch the garments of the helpless boy. Had he misjudged
distances even by the fraction of a foot, he might have missed
connection, and in that case the consequences would have been very
serious.
Fortunately, however, Hugh had kept his head and did not make a failure
of his effort to locate the object of his search. As soon as he came in
contact with the boy, he seized him and arose to the surface, battling
with all his energies to overcome the dreadful suction of the current of
the river.
Just then Hugh had but one thought, and this was to get Smith’s head
above the water as quickly as he could. Every second that the other
remained under added to the possibilities of his drowning, for he might
be so far gone when they got him ashore that all their skill would fail
to restore him.
The boy had ceased to struggle. While this may have seemed a serious
thing, at least it aided Hugh in his effort to save the other. He did
not have to contend with a frantic creature, ready to clutch him about
the neck and drag him down in an effort to climb out of the depths.
Scouts fortunately are early in their career instructed in such
important things as saving a comrade who may be in peril of drowning.
One of the chief benefits of the annual camping-out experience is that
it enables every member of the troop not only to learn how to swim and
dive and take care of himself in the water, but also to know how to
rescue a comrade who has been seized with a cramp, and even resuscitate
him after he has been brought safely to the shore.
Had Whistling Smith tried to clutch Hugh, the scout master would have
kept him at arm’s length, even though rough measures were required in
order to bring this about. Sometimes it even becomes necessary to stun
the drowning one so that he can be handled safely, for once he throws
his arms around the neck of the would-be rescuer, the chances are that
both will perish.
When Hugh came to the surface with his helpless burden, he found Bud
swimming aimlessly around, calling his name piteously. The scout seemed
to be dreadfully broken up by the sudden terrible catastrophe that had
stared them all in the face. Not finding Hugh there when he arrived at
the spot, he had jumped to the conclusion that the other must have been
seized by the drowning boy and dragged under.
“Oh, Hugh! I thought you were gone!” he managed to gasp, as he suddenly
discovered his chum right alongside. “Did he pull you down with him?”
“No, but I had to go down after him,” said the other tersely. “Give me a
hand here, Bud, so as to keep his head above water. He’s pretty near
gone, I tell you.”
“You better believe I will,” cried the other, his teeth chattering as he
spoke. It was not the chill of the water that caused this, but a
dreadful fear lest Whistling Smith might never recover, and that blame
would be attached to him for having thrown the other into the river for
a ducking.
Bud was as eager as any one could be to do all in his power. Indeed, he
shouldered more than his share in towing the helpless boy to the shore;
and the two scouts were soon wading in the now shallow water toward the
spot where their comrades eagerly awaited their coming, ready to lend
what aid they could.
In solemn fashion then was Whistling Smith lifted to the bank and laid
on the green grass. The cold moon looked down, and showed them that his
face was ghastly white.
“Oh, Hugh, you don’t think he’s dead, do you?” asked Arthur Cameron in
an awed tone; while poor repentant Bud could not muster up enough
courage to utter a single sound. He simply stood there, with his knees
secretly knocking together, and prayed ever so fervently deep down in
his heart that nothing so terrible should come of this attempt to cure
the vandal of his evil ways.
Hugh forgot that he was soaked to the skin. He realized that something
must be done immediately to bring back the breath of life to the almost
drowned boy, who, if left there to himself, would doubtless never come
to his senses again.
“Turn him over on his face, boys,” he said first of all, as he prepared
for the task that was before him.
The other scouts, knowing the whole process, extended Smith’s arms as
far above his head as possible. Meanwhile Hugh immediately knelt astride
the body, a knee on either side, in such a position that he could easily
press downward on the short ribs.
Smith had been under the water such a brief time that Hugh did not have
any great fear of the result. Still, until there were signs of restored
breathing he did not intend to take any chances, and he went about his
task as though the other had been at the bottom of the river for several
minutes.
Pressing heavily downward upon the boy’s back between the short ribs,
Hugh thus forced the breath from his lungs. Then by relieving the
pressure, there was more or less of an intake of air. This movement he
repeated again and again, taking care not to work too fast, about once
every four seconds being the proper thing.
All this while, what water Smith had drawn into his lungs was oozing
from his mouth, on account of the position in which he had been placed
in the beginning.
Bud Morgan sat there rubbing one of the boy’s legs furiously, as though
under the impression that he could thus induce a certain amount of
animal heat by friction, and in a small way help things along. Alec was
working on the other leg, while the balance of the scouts hung around,
ready to carry out with alacrity any order given by Hugh.
After all, it did not prove to be a bad case, thanks to the promptness
of the rescuers. In a short time Arthur declared that he had heard what
sounded like a sigh coming from Smith. Hugh himself noticed a slight
muscular movement, though he did not in the slightest degree relax his
labors; if anything, he increased the force with which he kept that
artificial respiration going.
In ten minutes more the boy began to wriggle, and presently they were
able to turn him over on his back. As he stared up at them, Bud found
himself trembling like a leaf to find that after all a tragedy had been
averted.
“Are you feeling better, Smith?” asked Hugh.
“W—w—where am I? W—w—what happened?” gasped the other, as the first
touch of color began to creep into his white cheeks.
“You were in the river,” said Bud quickly, as though ready to shoulder
all the blame. “We thought you were only fooling when you said you
couldn’t swim a stroke. It was your brother that used to be a regular
fish in the water. We got you mixed, you see, and thought you were just
trying to pull the wool over our eyes. But I guess you’d have drowned if
it hadn’t been for Hugh here. He dragged you out after you went under
the third time.”
“With your help, Bud,” interposed Hugh modestly.
“I don’t deserve a bit of credit,” said the other scout moodily. “I was
a fool to do what I did. Smith, I hope you can forgive me. We wanted to
punish you for littering up the mayor’s lawn the way you helped to do.
That was a shame, but two wrongs don’t make a right. Perhaps you were
led into it by that scheming Lige Corbley. There’s some excuse for you,
Smith, but none for me. I’m a scout, and I ought to have known better.
Will you shake hands and forgive me for throwing you into the river?”
Whistling Smith was more or less dazed. He looked hard at Bud, as though
trying to connect matters in his mind. Then he slowly raised his hand,
for he was still very weak.
“I reckon it’s all right, Bud,” he said. “I was a fool myself to be led
into that silly game. Perhaps I only got what I deserved. In the future,
I mean to cut loose from that crowd. They’re too swift for me. This is
going to be a big lesson, let me tell you. I don’t know what my mother’d
have said if I was arrested and locked up. If you fellows are willing to
call it an even thing, I am.”
Every one of the scouts quickly declared that they stood ready to wipe
all scores off the slate. Others besides Bud felt a sensation as of
remorse; and they were glad beyond words that things had come out as
favorably as they had. If Whistling Smith had never been resuscitated,
what misery would have been their portion through the remainder of their
lives.
“It wouldn’t have happened if we’d only waited for Hugh to get here,”
admitted Arthur frankly. “Chances are he’d have believed what you said
and only soused you in shallow water. We took big risks in doing what we
did. You’ve had a lesson, Smith, you say, but think of us scouts not
knowing better!”
“Yes,” added Alec, also repentant now, “and come to think of it, I ought
to be kicked for not remembering that it wasn’t Whistling Smith but his
brother Bob who could swim like a duck. Slipped my mind in all the
excitement. Never again for me will such a thing as this happen.”
“I think we all have good reason to be thankful it was no worse,”
declared Hugh; “but get up and exercise some, Smith. We want you to warm
up before you start on a run for home. Get to bed as soon as you can,
and be sure to have a blanket on. The weather is so warm I don’t think
you’ll be apt to suffer from your ducking.”
They rubbed him vigorously until he declared that he felt as warm as
toast, after which he was started for home on the trot.
“Any use of our going back on duty again, Hugh?” asked Billy, stifling a
yawn.
“I don’t think so,” was the reply. “Lige and his crowd have done all the
damage they wanted to probably, and there’ll be nothing to bother us for
the rest of the night. We’re all tired and two of us wet through, so
we’ll strike the home trail now.”
“How about the rest of the fellows who are still on duty? Going to leave
them to stand guard the whole night through?” asked Billy.
“Well, that would be a hard joke on them,” Alec declared. “Send me with
any message, Hugh. You and Bud had better make a break for home, and get
out of your wet clothes in a hurry.”
“All right then, Alec,” the other told him. “Take the order that they’re
to give up work for to-night and get away home. And perhaps you’d better
not say anything about what happened here in too big a hurry. We’ll
speak of it at the next meeting. I think there’s a lesson in it for
every scout. I know I feel that I’ve had one myself.”
“Huh! think of me, will you?” declared Bud with a sigh. “Even when
Arthur yelled out that Smith was drowning, I was so scared that for just
five seconds I couldn’t move hand or foot. That might have been long
enough for him to disappear the last time. But you shot past me and into
the river like a flash. You haven’t a single thing to be sorry for,
Hugh. And let me tell you, for one, I’ll never stop thanking my lucky
stars that you got here just when you did. I’d be feeling some different
from what I am right now if you’d delayed a minute longer.”
Alec ran off to carry the scout master’s order to the rest of the troop
that would relieve them from vidette duty, while the balance of the boys
started for their various homes, satisfied with the outcome of the
series of adventures.