Rescued
Sim, who was hurrying after Arden and Terry up the steep hill on top of
which was perched Bordmust Hall, uttered a series of frightened
exclamations.
"Oo-oo-oo! Oh, my! Oh, but I was frightened. Wasn't he angry!"
"Since Dr. Bordmust is our chaplain, it was probably what might be called
righteous anger," suggested Arden.
"What do you suppose he meant when he spoke about not always watching?"
asked Terry.
"I don't know," Arden had to admit. "The girls say Dr. Bordmust is really
queer at times. I suppose it is because he's such a profound student. He
knows such a lot, all about Egypt, so many languages, and they say
ancient history is an open book to him." Arden was fairly sprinting along
the boardwalk that made the steep path up to Bordmust Hall a little
easier. What with talking and hurrying, her breath was a bit gaspy.
"Well, don't ask me what it all means," begged Terry. "I can't even
guess. But, oh! I do hope I'm not going to be late for this first class."
"So say we all of us," chanted Sim.
"They can't be too severe at the very beginning," murmured Arden.
Bordmust Hall, where most of the class sessions were held, crowned with
its classic architecture the summit of the long slope which formed the
eminence of the broad acres about Cedar Ridge College. It was behind the
main, or dormitory, building in which were housed the executive offices
and the residence rooms of the faculty. To the southwest of the hall, and
easily viewed from the steps, was the unused pool. To the northwest, and
in line with the main building, was the beautiful Gothic chapel with its
wonderful stained-glass windows. Near the chapel was the unimposing home
of the chaplain, Rev. Dr. Bordmust; one of whose ancestors had partly
endowed Cedar Ridge. For this reason the hall was named for him.
At the foot of the slope on which the hall stood were the rambling fields
and gardens where much of the farm produce for the college tables was
raised. The nearest of the farm-lands, so called, was the orchard, part
of which could be seen from the southeast windows of the dormitory. And
it was this orchard that the taxi-man had indicated in such a warning
manner. It was this orchard into which Tom Scott, the good-looking
porter, had been staring the night of the arrival of Arden Blake and her
chums. So much had been crowded into the comparatively short time the
three freshmen had been at college that they had almost forgotten the
strange orchard. Even now they had no chance to consider the matter, for
they, with many other girls, were hastening to their first classes.
They gave a momentary glance toward the orchard, with its quaint gnarled
trees. The morning sun was glinting on red, dark-green, and golden russet
apples which the gardener and his men had not yet started to gather.
Arden, especially, gazed searchingly at the orchard. Apple trees grow in
such strange shapes and huddle so closely to themselves, as if each one
guarded a secret. There was a puzzled look in Arden's blue eyes as she
tried to guess what might be hidden by those trees and the tall hedge
surrounding them.
Sim was gazing rather sorrowfully at the pool building, but Terry was
smiling, perhaps because everything seemed, for the moment, at least, to
be so filled with good and pleasant life.
"Go on in, kids!" Sim urged her two chums. "I'll be along in a minute or
two. I just want to take a look at--I just want to--oh, well, go on.
Don't wait for me."
"But won't you be late?" objected Arden.
"No, I have some time to my credit."
As her surprised friends watched, Sim left them and hurried down across a
stretch of smooth lawn toward the disused swimming pool.
"Too bad," murmured Arden.
"What is?" asked Terry.
"I really think Sim feels more keenly than we realize about the pool. But
she's such a good sport. Look at her! Going to view the ashes of her
hopes or the collapse of her dreams or something equally tragic."
"Don't let's say anything about this," proposed Terry. "If Sim cares so
much, I'm sure she'd rather not talk about this little visit."
Arden agreed and, taking Terry's arm, they hurried into the hall.
Sim reached the pool building and tried to get some idea of the wreck
within by peering through a window. But the sill was too high to afford a
view, even if the window had not been made of heavily frosted glass,
quite opaque.
Then she stepped back and gazed up at the copper and glass domed roof.
Around the top of the building were set at intervals glazed tiles
depicting nautical scenes. Dolphins were diving merrily as if to
tantalize sea horses with necks proudly arched, and mermaids flicked
their tails disdainfully at Father Neptune.
"I may as well try the door," Sim murmured. "I'd like to see what it's
like inside, though it will probably break my heart!"
After several hard pushes to the extent of her strength, she succeeded in
swinging back the door. She found herself in a sort of vestibule, but the
inner door of this opened easily, and then Sim stood almost on the edge
of the abandoned pool.
A peculiar smell assailed her, as of a place long shut up, but at the
same time it had something of out-of-doors about it, the odor of clean
earth and ripe vegetables.
"It isn't as bad as Toots said," mused Sim. "At least, it looks as though
there isn't so very much the matter. It isn't filled with vegetables,
either; just a few bags as yet, though they probably will bring in more
when they pick the apples. This must have been a beautiful pool once."
The bottom of the pool was tiled a pea green, a color which must have
given the water a most cooling tone on a hot day. But the white tile
sides no longer gleamed, and in more than one place jagged dark cracks
ran crazily down the walls like streaks of black lightning. Sim looked at
the cracked tile and concrete edge at her feet. The depth was still
indicated, though there was no water in the pool--5 feet.
"This is the shallow end, of course," Sim thought, and she walked slowly
around the edge and toward the melancholy spring-boards to which some
strips of cocoa-fiber matting still clung.
"How quiet it is in here," Sim murmured. "Like a museum after hours--or
an Egyptian tomb." She shivered a little, though it was warm in the
natatorium.
In the deep end several filled burlap bags were piled up, and in each
corner were barrels of cabbages leaning against the walls.
"I thought, from what Toots said, the whole place would be filled to the
brim with cabbages and turnips," Sim said to herself, smiling a little
ruefully. "I wonder how long this pool is, or should I say _was_?"
She began to measure the length with her eyes, mentally swimming with
long, smooth strokes while her feet churned up and down.
"About seventy-five yards long, I guess," she went on. "And about
twenty-five across. A lovely size. I could do three lengths a day here
and really enjoy it. Let's see how deep it is from the end of the board."
She walked gingerly out on the diving plank, choosing the center one for
there were three at the deep end, tiered at different heights. It was
difficult to estimate, without water in the pool and with the barrels and
bags of vegetables scattered about, how close the different boards came
to the surface of the filled space. Sim decided that the plank she was
standing on was the lowest.
She permitted herself a little pre-diving, teetery bounce on the very
end, half fearful lest the dried wood should crack beneath even her light
weight. But it held, and Sim gave a bolder jump.
"A straight dive--cutting the water about there!" With her eyes Sim
indicated to herself just the spot where her finger tips should enter the
water--had there been any water there.
She jumped again and came down safely, with no warning cracking of the
dried plank. Then she balanced herself on the very tip of the board
before, mentally, springing into the air. Now she performed a most
ambitious jump, but this time the stiffened wood snapped back suddenly.
Sim was thrown to one side, and she swung her arms around and around like
a child on its first roller skates, trying desperately not to topple
backward.
But her motions only caused the board to quiver more violently, and in a
split second Sim slipped off and clung, with her finger tips only, to the
edge of the plank, while the hard-tiled bottom of the pool, seemingly
miles below, waited to receive her.
"Oh, gosh! What'll I do?" poor Sim thought. "Those tiles don't look very
soft, and I'll drop in a minute!"
Her fingers ached from their stiff clinging grip, and her arms were
quickly tiring. She decided she must soon let go for after a futile
attempt to sling one leg up over the side edge of the board it bent so
alarmingly that she feared it would snap. She began to swing to and fro
like a pendulum, hoping she might cast herself upon a bag of vegetables
which would serve to break her fall, when, suddenly, she felt her wrists
firmly gripped by two hands, and she looked up to see Tom Scott, the
porter-gardener, smiling down at her. He was kneeling on the end of the
plank.
"Don't jump!" he warned. "I'll pull you up. It's rather the reverse of
'don't shoot, I'll come down,' isn't it?" he said lightly. He could not
have taken better means to quiet Sim's excited nerves than with Mr.
Crockett's little coon banter.
With what seemed no effort at all, Tom Scott lifted her up and held her
clear of the end of the board so her legs did not scrape against it. Then
he carefully walked back with her toward the middle of the plank, where
there was no danger of its breaking, set her down, and stood grinning at
her. A nice grin it was, too, Sim thought later.
She managed to produce a weak, embarrassed smile.
"Thank you so much!" she said a bit stiffly. The man must think her
crazy. "I--I slipped! I--er--I was--that is, I was trying----" To cover
her confusion she looked at her red finger tips.
"Hurt?" he inquired.
"Broke two or three nails," Sim responded ruefully. "I'm very glad you
came along. I might have sprained an ankle if I had let go, for this end
must be nine feet deep."
"The water, when there is any, is over nine feet deep nearest this wall,"
said Tom Scott. "You certainly would have been jarred a bit, to say the
least."
"Then I must thank you again. But please don't mention to anyone that you
found me in such a silly fix, will you?" Sim begged. She was quickly
regaining her lost composure. "I just wanted to get a look at the pool
and foolishly walked out on the board. I imagined myself poising for a
dive and I slipped off. You won't tell?"
"Of course I won't," Tom agreed, somewhat gayly, it seemed. "I came in to
get a few of the early apples we have stored here. One of the cooks asked
me to. I imagine there are going to be pies. But, honestly, I won't tell
a soul."
"Thank you," Sim murmured.
The young gardener walked up to the middle of the pool and with athletic
ease jumped down in it near several bags of vegetables. He picked up one
containing apples, heaved it up on the edge and jumped up himself. Then,
slinging the sack up on his shoulder, he walked toward the door, giving
Sim a friendly backward glance as he went out.
"What a nice young man!" said Sim to herself. "He doesn't seem like a
gardener at all. No brogue and no accent of any kind. I wish I could tell
Arden and Terry, but I'd rather die than have them know of this dizzy
adventure. I must have looked perfectly stupid hanging there on the end
of the plank!"
The clanging of a distant bell brought Sim back to reality, and as she
looked at her wrist watch she left all thoughts of pools and good-looking
rescuing gardeners behind her. For it would need a swift dash to get her
to Bordmust Hall before she would be late for her class.