THE RAVENS
Doc Carson is a Raven and he’s our First Aid Scout. He always has some
things with him, because that’s our rule. But you can bet I didn’t wait
for him. And I didn’t care if I was killed or not, I didn’t, if Wig
Weigand was killed.
So I jumped right through the window and the smoke got into my eyes and
made my ears ring, but I didn’t care. I could taste it all thick, too,
but I didn’t care. That was the smoke that had to do what Wigley Weigand
told it to, and he scribbled all over the sky with it, that’s what he
did, and now it had turned around and killed him.
I knew that up to six or seven inches from the floor there is never much
smoke and I knew he must have lain down low when he was almost
unconscious and worked that damper. And those fellows up there had been
laughing and cheering all the while, when he was lying there like that.
I didn’t see Artie anywhere and there wasn’t any sound. I lay down flat
and crawled over to Wig and you bet I worked quick. I tied his hands
together with my scout scarf—it was the Silver Fox scarf—and I tied
the scarf around my neck.
“Wig,” I said, but he didn’t speak and his legs and his neck hung loose,
sort of, and it kind of scared me. Then I crawled to the window, because
I couldn’t see the door, dragging him after me. Then I did something I
never thought I could do, but maybe you’ve noticed you can do most
anything when you have to. I just stood up, then fell down again,
coughing and choking, and my ears were buzzing all the time. But I
didn’t care, I just stood up again with him hanging to me, and I grabbed
the window sill and dragged him half way across it and with his head
outside, and then I staggered and tried to grab something and my eyes
were stinging and, oh, I don’t know, all of a sudden my head knocked and
I didn’t know any more.
Mr. Ellsworth says that Doc ought to write the rest of this chapter, but
he wouldn’t, and it’s just like him. The next thing I knew I was sitting
on the lowest step and Connie Bennett was holding my head. “You’re all
right,” he said, “but you got a good bump. You were only there a few
seconds.”
“Did you pull me out?” I said. “Where’s Wig?”
“Doc brought him around,” he said, “he got him breathing, then it was
easy. We can’t find Artie.”
Maybe it was funny, but just then I didn’t seem to be thinking about
Artie. I felt my head and found I had a big bump on it. “I should worry
about that,” I said. “Where’s Wig?”
Then I got up and went around the cabin to the forward deck and there
were all the fellows and Wig sitting up and Doc Carson holding him and
moving him, so as to keep him breathing—scout fashion.
“All righto, kid,” Doc said, kind of pleasant, “you’re a brick.”
I always thought that I was as big as he was, but he called me kid, and
I didn’t care. Anyway, I couldn’t see him very good, I admit that.
Because—oh, well, maybe you can understand.
“Artie’s missing,” he said. “You didn’t see anything of him in there?”
“I couldn’t see at all, hardly,” I told him.
Then Wig turned his head and looked at me and he was all white and weak
looking, especially when he smiled. And he had the remains of my Silver
Fox scarf, all torn, around his neck.
“All right?” he said very low.
But I just couldn’t speak to him. I don’t know what made me do it, but I
went up to him and he looked at the bump on my forehead and said,
“Hurt?”
“You should worry about that,” I told him. Then I kind of fixed the
Silver Fox scarf better, so that it was around his neck and I tied it in
the Silver Fox knot. “Your fellows won’t mind if you wear it a little
while,” I said, and then I unfastened his own scarf, yellow and brown,
and tied it around my neck. “There’s no fellow can get this away from me
to-night,” I said, “I’m going to wear the Raven scarf—I am.”
Then, all of a sudden, I noticed that Doc had gone away and I was
holding his head up alone. So I let it down on the cushion very easy and
I saw we were all alone. Maybe you won’t understand and it’s hard to
tell you. But I didn’t say anything; I just stayed there and rubbed his
forehead.
“We told her,” he said, kind of as if he was weak and tired.
“Yop,” I said, “you told her.”
“Somebody’ll get it—maybe,” he said.
“I ain’t thinking about that,” I said, “I’m only thinking about how you
did it. I—I don’t want the signalling badge in my patrol now, honest I
don’t, Wig. I want it to stay where it belongs. And I want there to be
only just the one in the troop. I got mad first. That’s because I’m
always getting mad, I guess. But there will never be any signalling
badge in my patrol, Wig. That’s going to be the rule.”
“There’ll be a Gold Cross though,” he said. And then he shut his eyes.
But I stayed right there—just because—oh, I don’t know, just because I
wanted to stay right there. You can’t always tell why you want to do a
thing.