LOST
Now when Wig said that about the Gold Cross I thought it was just
because he was weak and didn’t know what he was saying. Because, maybe
you know as well as I do, that the Gold Cross isn’t so easy to get. Only
one fellow in our troop ever got it, and that was Tom Slade. Maybe I
took a chance when I went into all that smoke, I’m not saying I didn’t,
but if I got anything at all, it would be the Bronze Medal, I guess, but
nix on the Gold Cross. You don’t find gold crosses growing around on
every bush, you can bet. Anyway, I didn’t want any honor medal because I
knew Wig wouldn’t get one (because they’re only for lifesaving) and,
gee, if he didn’t deserve one, I’m sure I didn’t.
Anyway this wasn’t any time to be thinking about medals, because Artie
Van Arlen was missing and that was the principal thing we had to think
about. He wasn’t on the house-boat, that was one sure thing, because we
looked everywhere and couldn’t find him. Wig said he remembered somebody
speaking to him when he was lying there, and he guessed it must have
been Artie. He didn’t know what he said though.
The fellows were all excited about it, especially because the boat was
just beginning to float, and we didn’t know whether we’d better anchor
there and wait to see if he turned up. Two of the fellows climbed down
and swam around and the rest kept calling. It wasn’t very deep yet and
they could even feel around the flats, but they couldn’t find him
anywhere.
I went around and looked at the window and even then the cabin was
filled with smoke, but not so thick. Believe me, I wished that Tom Slade
was there then, because he’s great on deducing and finding clues and all
like that. That’s why we always called him Sherlock Nobody Holmes.
Anyway, I couldn’t make out what happened. Artie might have staggered up
against the window to get air, but I didn’t see how he could fall out,
and if he was able to climb out then why didn’t he come up where the
rest of us were?
I couldn’t make anything out of it; all I knew was he was gone. I knew
he must have been drowned and his body been carried up by the tide,
which was running up strong now.
Well, you can bet we didn’t have any fun drifting up. Nobody said
anything much; we just sat around the edge of the deck with our staffs
and pushed her off, whenever she ran against the shore.
Charlie Seabury sat next to me and after a while he said, “Who’s going
to tell his people?”
“I am,” I told him, “because I’m to blame for the whole business.”
“Nobody’s to blame,” he said.
“Yes, I am,” I said, “they just did it on account of me.”
“That’s because all the fellows like you,” he said, “and they like to do
anything for you.”
Anyway, it wasn’t so necessary, I see that now, and it’s just the same
as if I killed him. Gee, I wish it was I that got killed, I know that.
Cracky, I deserved to after being such a fool.
After that, nobody spoke for a long time, then Hunt Ward, who’s in the
Elk Patrol, said, “It’s the first fellow in our troop that died. I guess
we won’t go up to camp now.”
“Not in this boat, anyway,” I said.
Then after a while I said, “We’ll send his name in and they’ll print it
in _Boys Life_.”
“I know,” Hunt said, “with a black line around it.”
Yet we kind of kept hoping all the time, even though we knew there
wasn’t any sense in it.
“_You_ thought _you_ were a goner,” Hunt said, “and you came back all
right.”
Now I was a big fool that it didn’t put a certain idea in my head when
he said that, but I only said, “Yes, but that was different.”
Then Dorry Benton, who was two or three fellows away from me, said, “One
thing is sure, he went through the window and into the water. Maybe he
was half conscious and didn’t remember there was only a narrow strip of
deck there. And he must have tumbled right off it.”
“I don’t know,” I said, “only if he isn’t in the boat then he must be in
the water and if he fell in the water and couldn’t swim or shout either,
then he must be drowned.”
Then nobody said anything and we just sat there keeping her off shore
and watching her drift up. When we got around Bentley’s turn we could
see the lights in Bridgeboro and then was when I began to realize and I
hated to get home. I wished the tide wouldn’t take us so fast. Some of
the fellows walked around on the roof, but none of them said anything. I
wished it was me instead of Artie, I know that. I ought to have been
satisfied to escape without getting the Ravens to do that—I mean send
that message for me. Anyway, I made up my mind I’d be the one to tell
Mr. Ellsworth about it, and Artie’s people too, and I’d take all the
blame.
I guess nobody said anything more all the way up, until we came near the
Field Club landing. The shore is like low cliffs here and after we got
her over against it, a couple of the fellows got out and towed her along
with ropes, till we came to the long float.
“Are we going to tie her at the float?” Connie Bennett asked, very sober
like. Gee, it sounded funny to hear someone speak. Doc Carson said,
“Yes.” He was kind of like head of the three patrols now, because he has
the most sense of all of us, I guess, and Tom Slade, who is head of the
Elks, is away and I decided, all of a sudden, that I wasn’t much of a
patrol leader, and Artie—he was—he wasn’t there.
“Look out for that canoe,” somebody said, just as we were coming
alongside the float.
“They shouldn’t have left it there,” Connie said; “that’s no place for a
canoe.” I guess we were all kind of nervous and cranky like.
Then I saw that there was a black figure sitting on the lowest step of
the boathouse. I was just going to call “Who’s there?” when Doc said,
“Pull that canoe out of the way before we smash it in.”
So I jumped off onto the float and grabbed the canoe, and g-o-o-d night!
it was my Indian dugout.