LEARNING TO SWIM
BY the middle of the next week the Ethels were established in the Girls'
Club and the Club was well under way. Dorothy went with them on the
opening morning and introduced them to the director of the Club so that
they felt no embarrassment in beginning their new activities. Miss
Roberts was a fresh-faced, wholesome young woman whose cordial manner
made the girls think of their teacher at home. They liked her at once,
and so they were eager to follow any suggestions that she made.
The very first was that which Dorothy's mother had urged upon her the
summer before, the suggestion which had made so good a basket-maker of
her that she had been able to sell her work during the winter.
"It's a great deal better for you to work hard at one thing," said Miss
Roberts in a little speech she made at the opening of the club, "than to
learn a little bit about several things. Don't be a 'jack of all trades
and good at none' girl; be a thorough work-woman at whatever craft you
select. Pick out the thing you think is going to interest you most and
put your whole strength on it."
"Stenciling for me," whispered Dorothy, "and invalids' cooking."
"Me, too," said Ethel Brown, who admired her new friend so much that she
wanted to have the pleasure of being in the same class with her. Ethel
Blue looked disturbed when she heard what the others were saying, for
she had made up her mind to learn basketry, but it seemed rather forlorn
to be in a class with girls she did not know at all. She thought she
would ask Miss Roberts what she thought about it.
"Another thing I want every girl here to do," went on Miss Roberts, "is
to take some physical exercise every day. You'll never have a better
chance to learn to swim, for instance, and it is one of our customs to
have light gymnastic movements every morning. In about a week the School
of Physical Education will have an exhibition in the Amphitheatre and we
must send a squad of girls to represent the Club, so the harder you work
to become exact and uniform in your exercises the better showing we
shall make."
When it came to enrolling in the classes both Ethels registered as
wanting to swim.
"I must learn," said Ethel Blue, "because I've got an uncle in the
Navy."
"And I've got to," laughed Ethel Brown, "because her uncle is my
father."
Ethel Brown and Dorothy gave their names for the class in stenciling,
but Ethel Blue crossed to Miss Roberts's side before she enlisted.
"I know I'd like stenciling," she said, "only I made up my mind that I
wanted to make baskets and I really want to do that more than to do
stenciling."
"But you think you'll be lonesome? Is that it?" asked the Director with
her kind eyes on Ethel's face.
"You see I don't know anybody here but Ethel Brown and Dorothy."
"Come here a minute, Della," called Miss Roberts to a short, rosy-faced
girl whose crisp red hair was flying behind her as she skipped across
the room.
"Della, this is Ethel Morton," she said. "And Ethel, this is Della
Watkins. Now you know at least one other member of the Girls' Club, and
it happens that Della is going to take basketry, unless she has changed
her mind about it since yesterday."
"I haven't, Miss Roberts," declared Della; "I'm going to work at baskets
until I can make a tray like one I saw at the Arts and Crafts Studios
last summer. Mamma says it would take a grown person two summers to
learn how to do it, but I'm going to try even if it takes me three."
"Della never gives up anything she once takes hold of," smiled Miss
Roberts. "She's like her dog. He's a bull dog, and I should hate to have
him take a fancy to anything I didn't want him to have!"
Both girls laughed and Della slipped her arm around Ethel Blue's waist
and ran with her to the basketry teacher who was recording the names of
her fast growing class.
For an hour the girls worked at their new tasks and then they did some
easy arm and leg exercises and ended the morning with a swift march
around the big room.
"We must hand in our names for the camping trip," directed Dorothy.
"What is that?" asked both Ethels in chorus.
"Across the lake is a camp that both the Boys' and Girls' Clubs use in
turn. There's a great rush to go so we'd better be on the list early."
"How long do we stay?"
"Just one night and plenty of grown people go, too, so the mothers never
object. It's the grandest thing."
"I've never slept in a tent," said Ethel Blue, "and I'd _love_ to do it
because my father has to do it so much. I think he'd like to have me."
But when they told Mrs. Morton of the plan she was not quite so eager as
the girls would have liked to have her.
"How do you go there?" she asked.
"In a motor boat, Dorothy says."
"We shall be on the water a good deal this summer," said Mrs. Morton
after thinking a minute, "and you girls can't learn to swim too quickly.
I think I will say that you may go to the camp when you can both swim at
least twenty strokes."
"If my bathing dress is all ready I'll begin to-morrow, Aunt Marion."
"May we go in every day, Mother?"
"Every suitable day."
"I'll bet on Ethel Blue," pronounced Roger solemnly. "She's a landsman's
daughter so she'll work harder to learn than Ethel Brown will. Ethel
Brown will think she'll take to it like a duck because her father is a
duck, so to speak."
"You just wait," cried Ethel Brown defiantly.
"I believe they'll both be swimming in ten days," declared Grandfather
Emerson.
At least they tried hard. They went regularly to the bathing beach,
listened attentively to their instructor's directions, practiced
carefully in the water, and were caught by the family a dozen times a
day taking turns lying on benches and working each other's legs, and
making gestures expressive of their desire to imitate the fishes that
they could see slipping through the water when they looked down into it
from the dock.
"They just flip a fin and off they go," sighed Ethel Blue. "I flip two
fins and wag my feet into the bargain and I go down instead of forward."
"I'm not scared any longer, anyway. Teacher says that's a big gain."
"'Keep air in your lungs and you needn't be afraid,' she's told me over
and over. 'Poke your nose out of water and you're all right.' It was
kind of goo-ey at first, though, wasn't it, ducking your head and
opening your eyes?"
"I got used to that pretty quick because I knew the water wasn't up to
my neck and all I had to do to be all right was to stand up. The three
arm movements I learned quickly; make ready, put your palms right
together in front of your chest--then--"
"One,--push them straight forward as far as you can--"
[Illustration: Make Ready
"Put your palms right together in front of your chest."
She pushed Ethel Blue's legs forward as close to her body as they would
go.]
[Illustration: Number One
"Push the arms straight forward as far as you can."
She pulled the legs as far apart as she could and as far back as
possible.]
[Illustration: Number Two
"Turn the palms flat and swing them as far back as the shoulder."
She brought the legs together again, the heels touching.]
"Two,--turn the palms flat and swing them as far back as the shoulder--"
"Make ready again--bring your palms together in front of your chest
again and repeat."
"What in the name of sense are you two kids chanting," ejaculated Roger,
poking his head inside.
"Go away, Roger. We can breathe and we can work our arms and that means
we can keep afloat. If only we can get the leg motions right!"
"Let me give you a pointer," said Roger, who was a fine swimmer; "while
you're learning try hard not to make any useless movements. They tire
you and they don't get you anywhere."
"That's just what our teacher says. 'Lost motion is bad anywhere, but in
swimming it's fatal.'"
"She's all right," commended Roger. "You just keep up that bench system
of yours and you'll come out O.K."
So Ethel Blue stretched herself again face down on the bench and Ethel
Brown put her cousin's heels together and her toes out and pulled her
legs straight back.
"Ready," she cried.
Then she pushed Ethel Blue's legs forward as close to her body as they
would go, and a muffled groan came from the pupil, head down over the
bench.
"Hold your head up. Can't you make your arms go at the same time? Now
leg Number One goes with the arm Number One."
"I can't do it yet," gurgled Ethel Blue; "I want to learn these leg
movements by themselves first."
"Here's Number One, then," said Ethel Brown, and she pulled the legs as
far apart as she could and as far back as possible, the feet still being
horizontal; "and here's Number Two," and she brought the legs together
again, the heels touching.
"I forgot to wag my feet when you did that last one," panted Ethel Blue.
"If you wag them it gives you an extra push forward you know."
"I know; it really does; I did it accidentally yesterday and I popped
right ahead some distance. Now let me try," and she took her turn on the
bench while Ethel Blue counted and pulled laboriously, "Number One,
Number Two, Make Ready."
"I floated for two minutes to-day."
"You did!" There was envy in Ethel Brown's voice as she resumed her
upright position and helped her cousin move the bench back against the
wall.
"I thought I'd try, so I turned over on my back and put my nose and
mouth as high out of water as I could and tried to forget that my
forehead was being swashed. Then I filled my lungs up full and there I
was, just like a cork."
"Or a barrel," substituted Roger, poking his head in again. "Grandfather
sends you his compliments--or he would if he happened to think of
it--and says that when he was a boy they used to ask him 'What does a
duck go down for?' Do you know the answer?"
"Grandfather told me that when I was Dicky's age--'for divers' reasons';
and he comes up again 'for sun--dry reasons.'"
"You're altogether too knowing, you kids. Where's Helen?"
"Gone on a tramp with the Vacation Club. Mother and Grandfather have
gone to the five o'clock reading hour, Grandmother is taking her
embroidery lesson at the Arcade, and Mary is down on the lake front.
There isn't a soul in the house except Dicky and he's taking a nap."
"Then here's the best time I know to teach you young ladies how to
resuscitate a drowned person. If one of you will oblige me by playing
drowned--thank you, ma'am."
With solemnity Roger removed his coat and proceeded to his self-imposed
task as Ethel Blue dropped limply on the floor.
"If you happen to have your wits about you still in about the usual
amount, all I have to do is to start up your circulation by rubbing you
like the mischief and then rolling you up in hot blankets to stave off
a chill. But if the few senses that you possess--"
"Thank you!"
"--have left you then I have two things to do instead of one; first, I
must start up your breathing once more, and second I must stir up your
circulation."
"Yes, sir," agreed both girls meekly.
[Illustration: "You keep his nose out of the sand by putting his arm
under his own forehead."]
"When a person is unconscious his tongue is apt to fall back and stop up
his throat. To prevent that you turn your victim over on his face."
"Ow! My nose!" cried Ethel Blue as Roger suited the action to the word.
"You keep his nose out of the sand by putting his own arm under his own
forehead, thus making him useful. Fixed this way his tongue slips
forward and the water in his mouth will run out. Sometimes this is
enough. If it isn't, then turn the patient on his side--" he rolled
Ethel Blue on edge--"and try to arouse breathing by putting ammonia
under his nose or tickling his nose and throat with a feather. Somebody
ought to be rubbing his face and chest all the time and throwing dashes
of cold water on them."
"Poor lamb!"
"If he doesn't begin to breathe promptly under these kind attentions
then you must try artificial breathing."
"Artificial breathing--make-believe breathing! How do you do that?"
"Don't let people crowd around and cut off the air. Turn him on his face
again,"--and over went Ethel Blue--"putting something thick like this
rolled up coat under his chest to keep it off the ground."
"Umph--that's a relief!" grunted Ethel Blue.
"Then roll him gently on to his side and then forward on to his face
once more. Move him once in every four slow counts. Every time he goes
on to his face give him a vigorous rub between the shoulder blades."
"Ow, ow," ejaculated Ethel Blue ungratefully.
"It must take a lot of people to do all these things," commented Ethel
Brown.
"Three if you can get them; one to turn him and rub his back, one to
keep his head off the ground as he is rolled over, and the third to dry
his feet and try to warm them."
"The one who does the rolling is the most important if there don't
happen to be many around."
"Put your strongest in that position. If you don't bring your patient to
in five minutes of this, try putting him on his back with a coat or
something under his shoulder-blades, and keeping his tongue out of his
throat by tying it with a tape or rubber band."
[Illustration: "One person kneels back of the patient's head and takes
hold of his arms between the elbow and the wrist and pulls them back
along the ground until the hands touch above his head. This draws the
air out of the lungs."]
"It's Ethel Brown's turn now," remonstrated Ethel Blue, but she was
silenced by a rubber band from Roger's pocket.
[Illustration: "When you move them to the side of the body again the air
is pressed out of the lungs."]
"Then one person kneels back of his head and takes hold of his arms
between the elbow and the wrist and pulls them back along the ground
until the hands touch above his head. This draws the air into the
lungs, and when you move them to the sides of the body again the air is
pressed out of the lungs just as in natural breathing."
"How long do you keep it up?" asked Ethel Brown interestedly while Ethel
Blue made silent demonstrations of disapproval.
"For hours--two at least. Many a man has been resuscitated after a
longer time. Make the movements about fifteen times a minute--that's
pretty nearly what Nature does--and have relays of helpers. There you
have the idea," and Roger slipped off Ethel Blue's gag, and helped her
up.
"When he really does breathe--my, he must be glad when you do get
through with him!"--she panted; "then you begin to work on his
circulation, I suppose."
"Correct, ma'am. Rub him from his feet upward so as to drive the blood
toward the heart and pack him around with hot water bottles and hot
cloths. Give him some coffee to drink and put him to bed in a room with
plenty of fresh air."
"He would be tired out, I should think, after having his arms waved
around for hours."
"He is," agreed Ethel Blue.
"They generally go right to sleep from exhaustion."
"I'm not surprised. Personally I think I'd rather be rescued before
these vigorous measures had to be applied to me."
"The best way to rescue a person who gets over his depth is to grab him
from behind."
"So he won't grab you."
[Illustration: "Throw yourself on your back. Put your arms above your
head with the backs of the hands together."]
[Illustration: "Push your legs down and as far apart as they will go.
Bring the arms in a steady sweep down to the sides."]
"Exactly. A person who thinks he's drowning loses his head and struggles
with his rescuer and perhaps they both drown. The best way is to grasp
his arms from behind above the elbows and put your knees in the small of
his back. That will throw him into a position where he will float. Then
hold his arm with your left hand and swim on your back using your right
arm and your legs."
"But I haven't learned to swim on my back."
[Illustration: "Bring the legs together and forward you'll shoot." End
of arm stroke.]
"Learn how as soon as you can get on pretty well the other way. Throw
yourself on your back and push your legs down and as far apart as they
will go; then bring them together and forward you'll shoot. Draw them up
to the body again, spread out, clap your heels--there you are. It's just
like swimming on your face--"
"Except that you're upside down."
"You can help on by putting your arms above your head with the backs of
the hands together and then bringing them in a steady sweep down to the
sides. You'd better learn this; it's the thing to do when you have the
cramp yourself as well as when the other fellow has it."
"Now let us practice on you," suggested Ethel Blue.
"No, you don't," replied Roger emphatically, and seizing his coat he
made a run for liberty, escaping through the front door and slamming it
after him.