FIRST AID
Dale never knew just how he got out of the truck. Gripped by the horror
and suddenness of the accident, his mind was a blank until he found
himself running over the bridge amid a throng of other hurrying scouts.
A moment later he was pressed close to the unbroken portion of the
railing, and, staring down, caught a glimpse of the gray car upturned in
the sluggish waters of the stream.
The car had turned turtle, and the great wheels, still spinning slowly,
showed above the surface almost to their hubs. The water was roiled
and muddy; bubbles and a little steam rose about the forward part of
the car. Ten feet away floated a chauffeur's cap. Nearer at hand, a
light lap-robe, billowed by the air caught underneath, seemed for an
instant to be the clothing of one of the passengers. But Dale swiftly
understood its real nature, and with a choke he realized that the people
were pinned beneath the car. All this came to him in a flash; then, as
Mr. Curtis and the foremost of the scouts plunged down into the wide,
but shallow, stream, he turned suddenly about and raced back to the truck.
It wasn't the sick sense of horror that moved him. All at once he had
remembered the troop first-aid kit, which he himself had carefully stowed
away under one of the long seats. They would need it badly, and he did
not think any of the others had stopped to get it. There would be plenty
of them without him to lift the car.
Panting to the side of the deserted truck, Dale leaped into the back,
and, dropping to his knees, tore and dug among the close-packed baggage
like a terrier seeking rats. Swiftly he unearthed the square, japanned
case and dragged it forth. When he reached the bridge again, the scene
had altogether changed. Waist-deep in the water, a line of scouts was
holding up the heavy car, whose weight was testified to by their
straining muscles and tense attitudes. Already the two passengers
had been dragged forth. The one whom at first they had taken to be a
woman had been carried to the bank, and Dale saw, with a throb of
pity, that she was a girl of not more than fifteen. Two scouts supported
the limp figure of the man, and as Dale ran around the end of the bridge
and down the bank a shout from Sherman Ward announced the discovery
of the chauffeur.
"Get him out quickly!" tersely ordered Mr. Curtis. "You and Crancher
look after him; you know what to do. Bob and Ranny see to the girl! I'll
take care of this man. Court, hustle for the first-aid kit; it's under--
Oh, you've got it! Good boy, Dale. Open it upon the bank and get out the
ammonia. Then be ready with some bandages when I call for them. Frank,
take one or two fellows and bring six or eight blankets here from the
truck."
Under the cool, dominating influence of the scoutmaster the situation
speedily resolved itself into one of orderly method. The three patients
were stretched out on blankets on the bank, and only those scouts
actively interested in bringing them around were allowed in the vicinity.
The others went back to the car and busied themselves with trying to
right it--a rather futile undertaking, but it kept them out of the way.
The girl was the first to respond to treatment, but the older man opened
his eyes not long afterward. While both were dazed by the shock, they
seemed to have escaped with no more serious injuries than bruises. The
chauffeur, however, was badly cut about the face and head, and Mr. Curtis
himself superintended the work of Ward and Crancher in tying up and
bandaging. When this was over he turned back to the other man, who was
trying to get on his feet.
"Hadn't you better lie quietly for a bit longer?" he asked quickly.
"You've been rather badly shaken up."
"Is Robert--all right?" asked the other, briefly, as he dropped back to
the ground again.
"Practically. He's cut about the head, but we've bandaged him up, and
I think he'll be all right until we can get him to a doctor."
The man's puzzled gaze wandered to the little group of scouts standing
well to one side and then returned to Mr. Curtis's face. "I don't
understand how you came to be on the spot so promptly," he murmured.
"Who--"
"My name is Curtis," explained the scoutmaster, as the other paused. "I'm
taking a party of scouts from Hillsgrove down to camp on Great Bay. Our
truck wasn't a hundred feet away when you skidded."
The older man raised his eyebrows.
"Scouts!" he repeated. "Boy Scouts?" Again his glance swept the circle,
taking in this time the prone figure of the chauffeur, whose head,
swathed in workmanlike bandages, rested against a thin roll of blanket.
"I understand," he went on briefly. "I am very greatly indebted to you,
Mr. Curtis. May I trouble you?"
He extended his hand, and this time the scoutmaster did not hesitate to
help him up. Together the two assisted the girl to her feet, and Mr.
Curtis reached for a blanket, placing it carefully around her shoulders.
"Thank you," she murmured shyly. She had recovered from her fright, and
seemed none the worse for the accident. "Dad, if we could only get a car
or something to take us home," she said pluckily.
"Our truck isn't exactly comfortable," suggested Mr. Curtis, "but I fancy
it would be the quickest way."
"Decidedly!" agreed the man. "The nearest house is two miles off, and my
own place isn't more than double that. But wouldn't it be inconveniencing
you?"
"Not a bit! We have plenty of time; and anyway, your man ought to have a
doctor's attention as soon as possible. The boys can wait here till the
truck comes back."
Without further delay he motioned Ward and Crancher to help the chauffeur
and led the way to the truck. Full of interest and curiosity, the
others watched them take their places, saw the engine started, and
remained staring after the lumbering vehicle until it had passed out
of sight around the curve. Then began an eager discussion of the whole
affair, until finally some one suggested building a fire and drying out
their wet clothes. The latter process was still going on when the
truck returned, after nearly an hour's absence, and Mr. Curtis leaped
out. As he came up to the group he was smiling.
"Who was it, sir?" called several of the scouts at once. "Did you find
out?"
"I did." The scoutmaster's smile deepened a little. "You can have three
guesses."
There was a moment's puzzled silence; then, "Mr. Thornton?" hazarded
Court Parker, flippantly.
"Not quite," laughed Mr. Curtis; "only his brother and niece."
Parker gasped in surprise; so did several others. Then a shout went up,
and a volley of questions was poured at the scoutmaster.
"Did you meet Mr. Thornton?"
"Does he still think scouting isn't any good?"
"He failed to say," returned Mr. Curtis, his eyes twinkling. "I hoped, of
course, that he'd fall on my neck and declare he was all wrong and
that scouting was the most wonderful thing in the world. But apparently
he isn't that sort. There's no question, though, that he was favorably
impressed, and with this good beginning I trust we can bring him around
before camp is over. Pile in now, fellows. We're late already and
mustn't waste any more time."
About an hour afterward they rumbled over a bridge, ran along a rather
sluggish stream for a quarter of a mile or so, and then entered the
little village of Clam Cove, where they found Captain Chalmers and Mr.
Knox, one of the scoutmasters, somewhat impatiently awaiting them. Full
of excitement, the boys piled out, gathered up their luggage, and made
tracks for the two motor-boats tied to the end of the dock. There was the
usual bustle and turmoil of embarking, but no delay, for every one was
too anxious to see the camp to waste any time stowing himself away. In
ten minutes the entire crowd was disposed of and the ropes cast off.
The bay was over a mile wide at this point. Its waters, stirred into
ripples by the freshening breeze, glinted in the rays of the afternoon
sun. Against the dark green of the farther shore a string of little
islands showed and started a buzz of eager comment and question. About
half-way across, the camp itself came suddenly into sight, a trim row of
glistening white tents outlined against a background of fir and cedar,
which brought forth a shout of delight.
"Gee! Don't it look great? I can hardly believe we're here, can you?"
But there could be no question of the reality of it all as they tumbled
into the trailers and went ashore in relays. It was a rather small
point, jutting out from the larger one into the comparatively quiet
waters of the bay. For some distance back the undergrowth had been
cleared away, but clumps of bushy cedars and glossy-leaved holly
remained to give shade and diversity. Six wall-tents, each with a
wooden floor and bunks to accommodate eight boys, were pitched on two
sides of a square, at the corner of which stood a larger tent known as
headquarters. Here dwelt the governing powers, in the shape of the
commissioner and the three scoutmasters, and in front of it, on a
rustic pole fluttered the Stars and Stripes. Across the square, among
the trees, was a large dining-tent, and behind that a substantial frame
cook-shack.
To the new arrivals, hot and dusty from their long ride, it all looked
tremendously cool and inviting, and there was a rush to shed uniforms
and get into shorts and undershirts. Dale Tompkins found himself placed
in a tent with Court Parker, Sanson, Bob Gibson, Trexler, Vedder and
Bennie Rhead, with Ranleigh Phelps as leader. The latter's presence
rather surprised him. He supposed Ranny would want to be with Torrance
and Slater, two of his closest chums. Later, learning that Wesley Becker
was tent-leader with that crowd, he decided that the arrangement was
due to the camp heads rather than to Ranny's personal preference.
But no matter what the cause, Tompkins was distinctly glad of the other's
presence. Though he tried not to build any hopes on what might be merely
the result of his own imagination, Dale had a feeling that the fellow he
admired and liked in spite of himself hadn't been quite so distant
lately. Besides, offish or not, just having Ranny in the same tent
seemed, curiously, to bring him nearer, and Dale settled himself in
the opposite bunk with an odd thrill of satisfaction.
Long before the hour for the afternoon swim the fellows were in their
bathing togs, impatiently awaiting the signal. When it came, there
was a regular stampede down to the beach, and in the space of thirty
seconds every scout, save only three of the advance-party, who had
been appointed life-savers, was splashing joyously in the water. They
enjoyed every minute of that half-hour, and responded to the dressing
signal with a reluctance that was considerably tempered by Mr. Reed's
announcement of an early supper.
There was no council-fire that night. The crowd that had come down was
too sleepy to do more than listen to a brief talk by Captain Chalmers
in front of headquarters tent, in which he repeated what Mr. Curtis
had told them of the need of refuting Mr. Thornton's peculiar ideas on
scouting and briefly explained the camp rules and routine.
Each of the six tents, which were numbered, was to be daily assigned to
special duty such as sanitary squad, cook's helpers, commissary, and the
like. In addition there would be a daily tent-inspection, and before
each meal an inspection of the tables, which corresponded to the tents
in number and for which the boys occupying those tents were responsible.
All of these marks would be carefully kept, and the tent having the
highest at the end of each week would be the honor tent, to be accorded
special privileges besides having its individual marks go toward the
winning of a camp emblem. This emblem, the captain explained, would
be the highest honor a scout could obtain in camp, and when he had
finished, almost every one of his hearers was keenly determined to
carry the coveted trophy back to Hillsgrove on the front of his jersey.
It was barely dark when the talk was over, but already more than one
tired scout was nodding and the clear notes of taps sent them stumbling
tentward. Dale Tompkins lost not a moment in shedding his clothes and
crawling in between the blankets. He heard vaguely the complaining
tones of Harry Vedder as he climbed into an upper bunk, and the joshing
comment of those who watched the diverting process. But even these
sounds barely penetrated to his brain. In a moment more he was lost
to the world, and in his next conscious moment he was opening his eyes
to the dawn of another day.