SWIMMING.
[Illustration: Fig. 85. The Diving Tree.]
Lake Placid was a favorite swimming place for us. We used to plunge in
from the branches of a tree which overhung the water a little ways above
the lagoon and made a natural springboard. We could all swim like ducks,
except Dutchy, who couldn't do anything but paddle. However, Uncle Ed
was an expert, and he took Dutchy in hand and soon made a pretty good
swimmer out of him. He also taught us some fancy strokes. Of course I
took no record of these lessons. You would hardly expect me to sit on
the bank with a book in hand jotting down notes while the rest were
splashing around in the cool water having the best of fun in the world,
and even if I had, I wouldn't republish the notes here, because whoever
heard of a boy learning to swim while reading a book on the subject? A
beginner had better leave books alone and plunge right into the water.
He will soon learn to keep himself afloat and can then practise any
fancy strokes that he sees others try. Then, again, don't try to learn
in shallow water, because you will never do it. Of course it doesn't pay
to jump into water that is over your head unless there is a good swimmer
near by to help you out. But you will never learn to swim until you have
become accustomed to putting your head under water. You can not swim
with a dry face. The first time we went swimming, we couldn't persuade
Dutchy to try it. The water was deep right up to the very bank and he
had never been in over his head. Instead he sat up in the diving tree
swinging his feet and trying to hide the fact that he was having a dull
time.
"Say, we've got to douse that fellow," said Reddy.
"You're right; he needs a wash," said Jim. "Let's sneak up behind him
and chuck him in."
They landed a little ways up the stream behind a large bush and then
crept down stealthily on their victim. But Dutchy had his suspicions
aroused and saw them coming. He scrambled out of the tree in a jiffy and
tore off into the woods as fast as his legs could carry him.
SWIMMING ON A PLANK.
[Illustration: Fig. 86. Swimming on a Plank.]
We didn't expect to see him again that afternoon, for the pace he was
leading should have carried him miles in no time; but while he couldn't
swim, Dutchy had his own ideas of fun on the water. It was about twenty
minutes later that we saw him coming down-stream lying full length on
one of the 2-inch planks taken from the bridge wreck. He was paddling
himself along with arms and legs hung over the sides of the plank. We
all gave him a cheer, and then started out to have some fun with him. We
tried to pull him off his raft, but he stuck on like a leech. It was
only when we made his craft turn turtle that Dutchy got his head under
water. But it wasn't a moment before he scrambled back on top again,
gasping and sputtering to get the water out of his nose and mouth.
Uncle Ed all this time had been sunning himself on the bank, when
suddenly he uttered a shout of warning. We were right at the mouth of
the mill-race. For the moment we forgot about Dutchy, and swam out for
shore. Before we realized it Dutchy was caught in the current, and was
being swept full tilt down the stream. My but wasn't he scared. I can
see him yet clinging for dear life to the plank, his face the color of
ashes and his eyes bulging out in terror. First he tried to make for the
bank, but the water was so swift that when the front end of the board
struck land the rear end swung around in a circle, carrying him on
again, but backward this time, before we could reach him. Two or three
more times the plank struck the bank and turned him around, while we
raced along the high bank, scrambling down to catch him every time he
headed for shore, but each time just missing him. Then he swung out past
the Tiger's Tail into the open river just above the rapids. Fortunately
he was going along headforemost this time, and Uncle Ed, who had just
arrived, panting and breathless, from running, shouted to him to keep
his head and steer for a narrow opening between two jutting boulders. I
don't know whether Dutchy did any steering or not, but the raft shot
straight through the opening, and was lost in a cloud of spray. In a
moment he reappeared below the rapids, paddling like mad for a neck of
land on the Pennsylvania side of the river.
Dutchy would never own up that he was afraid. He never told a lie under
other circumstances, but when it came to a question of courage he had
the habit of stretching facts to the very limit. Even in this case, he
said that he started out with the idea of shooting the rapids, and if we
hadn't flustered him so, he would not have bumped into the bank and
turned about so many times. Dutchy was a very glib talker. He nearly
persuaded us that it was all done intentionally, and his thrilling
account of the wild dash between the rocks and through the shower of
spray stirred us up so that we all had to try the trick too.
SHOOTING THE RAPIDS.
The next day, while Uncle Ed was taking a nap, we stole off to the upper
end of Lake Placid, each one towing a plank. We needn't have been so
afraid of Uncle Ed, for we found out later that he intended to try a
plank ride through the rapids himself next time he went in swimming.
Down Lake Placid we paddled in single column to the mill-race. In a
moment the current had caught us and we were off. I shall never forget
the thrilling ride down the swirling mill-race, the sudden pause as we
shot out into the open river, the plunge between the boulders and the
dive through the spray. It was all over too soon. Something like
coasting--whiz, whiz-z-z, and a half-mile walk. Were it not for the
trouble of hauling the planks back by the roundabout course along the
Pennsy shore we would have thought shooting the rapids a capital game.
RESTORING THE DROWNED.
[Illustration: Fig. 87. Pressing the Water out of the Stomach.]
[Illustration: Fig. 88. Expanding the Chest.]
[Illustration: Fig. 89. Squeezing out the Air from the Lungs.]
It was on the second day after Dutchy's exploit of the rapids that Bill
came so near drowning. He probably would have drowned if Uncle Ed hadn't
been on hand to work over him. Bill was a fine swimmer, but even the
best of swimmers will sometimes get a cramp, so it is never safe for any
one to go into the water without some one at hand to help him out in
case of accident. In the present case Bill was doing some fancy strokes
by himself over near the Pennsy shore, while the rest of us were
watching Uncle Ed give Dutchy a lesson in swimming. All of a sudden Bill
threw up his hands and sank. I happened to glance up as he did it. We
thought he was fooling at first, but soon made out that he was in
genuine trouble. Uncle Ed dropped Dutchy to my tender care, and raced
over with a powerful stroke to the spot where he had last seen his
nephew. He failed to find him on the first dive, but the second time was
successful and he carried the lifeless body to the Pennsylvania shore.
In the meantime I had landed Dutchy and with the rest of the boys had
crossed the lake. Uncle Ed first laid Bill on his back and hastily wiped
dry the mouth and nostrils. Then he pried his jaws apart, holding them
open with a piece of wood wedged in between the teeth. After which he
turned him on his face over a log which was placed under his stomach. By
stomach I do not mean the bowels, but the real stomach, which lies just
under the ribs in front. Then he pressed with a good weight on the back
directly over the log for nearly a minute, causing the water to flow out
of the mouth. Dutchy had by this time rowed across in the scow, in which
fortunately there happened to be some of Uncle Ed's clothing. This he
took and rolled into a bundle, then Bill was laid on his back over the
roll of clothing, which was arranged to raise the pit of his stomach
above the rest of his body. Uncle Ed now wrapped a handkerchief around
his forefinger, and with it wiped out Bill's mouth and throat. Reddy,
who was the least excited of the lot, was told to draw Bill's tongue
forward so as to prevent it from falling back and choking the windpipe.
This he did with the dry part of the handkerchief, drawing the end of
the tongue out at the corner of the mouth, and holding it there while
Uncle Ed and I started the pumping action, which produced artificial
respiration. I was directed to grasp Bill's arms just below the elbows,
and swing them vertically in an arc until the hands met the ground again
above the head. This expanded the chest. Uncle Ed at the same time stood
over the body with his elbows on his knees and hands extended, as
illustrated in Fig. 88. Then I swung the arms up and back to the sides
of the body, but just before the hands touched the ground Uncle Ed
seized the body in both hands just below the ribs, and as soon as I
touched the arms to the ground he swung forward with all his weight on
his hands, squeezing the waist and pushing upward so as to force out the
air in the chest. Then he slowly counted, one, two, three, four, all the
time steadily increasing the pressure, until at the signal four, with a
final push, he shoved himself to the first position, shown in Fig. 88.
At the same signal I drew the arms up again over the head, and held them
there while Uncle Ed again counted four; then I returned the arms to the
sides, and Uncle Ed repeated the squeezing process. These movements were
continued for about three minutes, and then Bill gave a short, faint
gasp. We kept on with the artificial respiration, assisting the gasps,
which gradually grew stronger, until they had deepened into steady
breathing. Then we stripped off the wet bathing suit, and wrapping Bill
in Uncle Ed's clothing, laid him in the bottom of the boat. While Dutchy
hurried the boat across, Uncle Ed rubbed the patient's arms and legs.
The rest of us swam over and ran for blankets from the tent. Bill was
wrapped in one of the blankets and the other was used as a stretcher, on
which we carried him to the tent. Then one of us was sent post-haste
across to Lumberville for some whiskey, which was diluted in hot water
and given the patient a teaspoonful at a dose, every fifteen minutes at
first, and then at less frequent intervals. Uncle Ed kept Bill in bed
all the next day for fear of congestion of the lungs. He told us that
unless the patient kept perfectly quiet for a couple of days, he was
liable to be seized with a sudden attack of hard breathing that might
choke him to death in a short time. To stop such an attack he told us
that the best plan was to apply a mustard plaster to the chest, and if
the patient commenced to gasp, to start pumping the arms and squeezing
the waist so as to help him breathe. After Bill had come around and was
himself again Uncle Ed gave us a thorough drill in methods of restoring
the drowned. He laid down on the grass and made us practise on him the
various directions which he gave us.
HOW TO WORK OVER A PATIENT ALONE.
[Illustration: Fig. 90. Working alone over a Patient.]
"If you boys hadn't been so excited," he said, "I would have made you
rub Bill's body and limbs while we were pumping the air into him, but I
knew you would get in the way, and be more of a bother than a help. You
must learn to be calm in any accident; excitement doesn't pay. Keep
steadily and slowly at your pumping, for you might have to do it for
four hours before the patient comes to." He taught us just how to swing
the arms and squeeze the ribs to best advantage, and how to hold the
tongue without getting in the way of the arms as they were pumped back
and forth. There was also a special way of rubbing the arms and legs.
The limbs were always rubbed upward, or toward the body, with the bare
hands, or a dry cloth if there was one at hand, but this all had to be
done without interfering with the pumping action. "If the patient
doesn't come around in five minutes," he said, "turn him on his face
again over the roll of clothing, or any other suitable substitute, and
press out the water from the stomach, rolling him first to one side and
then to the other; be sure to get all the water out." When we had
learned our lesson well, Uncle Ed took Dutchy for his patient, and
proceeded to show us how a man could work over him alone. First he went
through the operation of squeezing the water out of him, and drying his
nose and mouth, much to the patient's discomfort; then he drew Dutchy's
tongue out of the corner of his mouth, holding it there by closing the
jaws on it, and holding the jaws together by passing a handkerchief over
his chin and lapping it over his head. After that he began to pump,
seizing the patient's arms and swinging them up over the head and back,
as before. Just as the arms were dropped back to the sides of the body,
he squeezed them in against the ribs, at the same time drawing upward
toward the head and counting four each time, as he had done before. But
the lesson was abruptly interrupted by Dutchy, whose imagination was
worked up to such a pitch that I actually believe he thought he had been
drowning. Anyway, he squirmed out of Uncle Ed's grasp, and wouldn't play
patient any longer. For several days after that we couldn't persuade him
to venture near deep water.