IN DEEP WATER
The sun was well up over the eastern hills, shining down warm and mellow
on Cardiff valley when Roger awoke next morning. At first he could
scarcely remember where he was, so many changes of location had he gone
through lately. He looked at the old-fashioned wall paper, listened to
the rustling of the wind in the trees, and wondered if he was not
dreaming. Then he gradually recalled the events of the day before. He
got out of bed with a jump, and was dressing when Adrian came in.
"Hello, Roger," was the greeting, "how'd you sleep?"
"Fine," answered Roger.
Then Adrian looked at the clothes his cousin was putting on. It was the
same suit Roger had worn when he arrived.
"Oh, I say," exclaimed Adrian. "Don't tog out in these. We're going
fishing, you know, and you'll need your old duds to go through the woods
with. You'll spoil a good suit."
Then for the first time Roger realized that he didn't have to dress for
school. He remembered that he was not going to study his lessons, and
had only to go out into the air and sunshine, to listen to the birds,
and to tramp through the fields. For the first time it came to him
that, even though he was not as well and strong as many other boys,
there was a good time ahead of him, and a chance for him to become as
sturdy as Adrian.
"That's so, we are going fishing to-day," remarked Roger. "I'd forgotten
all about it, I slept so soundly. I thought I was back in New York."
He made haste to replace his good suit with an older though serviceable
one, which would stand hard usage. Then the two boys went down to
breakfast, which meal, Roger was sure, tasted even better than the
supper of the night previous.
"Wa'al, what's th' schedule fer t'-day?" asked Mr. Kimball, as he gulped
down his second cup of coffee. "You boys goin' arter b'ar er mountain
lions?"
"Are there bears in these woods?" inquired Roger, eagerly.
"Mussy sakes, no!" exclaimed Mrs. Kimball, "but 't wouldn't be yer Uncle
Bert ef he did n't fool some un. Skunks 'n' squirrels, 'n' onct in a
while a wild-cat, is th' biggest beasts in these parts."
"Now, mother," began Mr. Kimball, his mouth half full of potato, "ye
know there is b'ars in th' woods. Didn't ye run away from one last fall,
when ye were pickin' blackberries? Now, own up, did n't ye?"
"Oh, thet one," answered Mrs. Kimball, as she set a plate of buckwheat
cakes in front of Roger. "He was th' tame b'ar thet got away from th'
Italian organ grinder."
"Scared ye most int' a spasm, though," commented Mr. Kimball, laughing
so heartily that he nearly choked on a piece of bread.
"Go along 'n' eat yer breakfust, 'n' git at th' chores," advised Mrs.
Kimball, smiling a bit at the recollection of the incident.
"We're going over to Limestone creek, fishing," said Adrian. "George
Bennett was there yesterday and got fifteen chub."
"Got any bait?" asked Mr. Kimball.
"Going to dig some right away," replied Adrian, trying to make short
work of the meal. Roger, too, was busy with the victuals.
"Now I don't know 'bout this," began Mr. Kimball with a grave air, in
contrast to his former jolly tone. "Roger didn't come out here t' start
right in 'n' tramp eight er ten miles, 'n' git all tired out. His mother
'n' father wants him t' rest up, 'n' git lots a' fresh air. Now, Ade, I
don't know's I ought t' let you two go. What d' ye say, Roger?"
"I don't feel at all tired," answered the boy. "I am not sure I could
walk eight miles, but--"
"It's less than two miles there, pop," broke in Adrian, "and, say, you
need n't worry, but I'll take care of Roger. We'll walk slow."
"I guess I can tramp as far as the creek," put in Roger, feeling a
little nettled that his physical ability should so often come up for
discussion.
"Wa'al, all right," assented Mr. Kimball. "It's a nice day, 'n' I guess
it won't hurt ye none. Look out ye don't fall in, that's all. It's deep
near th' hole where th' best fishin' is."
"We'll be careful," promised Adrian.
Breakfast over Adrian got out the fishing tackle and a spade with which
to dig the worms for bait. Roger was provided with a bamboo pole and the
necessary line, hooks, and sinkers. Then, when Adrian announced, after
spading a good-sized patch of the barnyard up, that they had bait enough
in the tin can, the two boys shouldered their poles and started off.
The way to the creek was along the main street of Cardiff, which ran
through the centre of the village, up to the cross-road, that led
eastward to the town of Lafayette. At this point the path went west,
twisting and turning along the highway, over the hills to Onondaga Lake,
twenty miles away. This was the first glimpse Roger had of the hamlet of
Cardiff, except for the hasty glances as he had passed through on the
stage the evening before. There were not more than sixty houses in the
place, all comfortably close together, on the two sides of the main
street.
Here and there, spread out along other roads, were scattered farms, with
big, roomy, white houses and weather-stained barns and corn-cribs.
The boys passed over the little brook that ran across the road, just
beyond Adrian's home, the stream being spanned by a wooden bridge. Soon
they came to Hank Mack's general store, where you could buy a plow or a
yard of red calico, a stick of candy or some gunpowder, a loaf of bread
or a salt mackerel. Then there was the blacksmith shop, in the door of
which stood Sam Bennett, and, next, the grist mill, kept by Truem
Wright, as jolly a chap as one would care to meet in the course of a
day's travel. The last building, save some houses, before the boys came
to the turn of the road, was the public inn or tavern, which bore the
name "The Pine Tree. Abe Crownheart, Proprietor," in big faded blue
letters over the door.
It was still early in the day, but nearly all the people in Cardiff
seemed to be up and about. The men and women whom Adrian met nodded or
spoke to him, and glanced rather curiously at Roger, for strangers were
not common in town. A walk of half a mile brought the boys to the
cross-road, and they went down that some distance before Adrian
indicated the place where they were to cut across lots to reach the
creek. Through the fields they went, most of the land they found
themselves travelling over having been given up to the raising of corn,
which was now gathered in shocks, ready to be husked, leaving the heavy
brown stubble sticking out of the earth.
"Don't know's we'll have much luck to-day," said Adrian, rather
dubiously, as he wet his finger and held it up in the air to note which
side felt coolest, and so determine the direction of the breeze.
"Why not?"
"South wind."
"What's that got to do with fishing?"
"Lots. Didn't you ever hear that? Why we never go fishing if the wind's
south. It wasn't there when we started, but I guess it shifted. There's
a verse that says: 'When the wind's in the west the fish bite best;
when the wind's in the south it blows the hook out their mouth.' But
maybe we'll get a few."
"I hope so, after all our work," said Roger.
"If I don't, it won't be the first time, for me," added Adrian, as
though to prepare for the worst.
They tramped for half a mile more, and then, turning down a well-beaten
path, Adrian led the way to an opening amid a grove of willow trees,
along the edge of the creek. The stream, which was broad and deep here,
curved around from a point, and formed an eddy that had eaten quite a
distance into the bank. This eddy was used as a swimming hole by the
boys of the village, but now the water was a little too cool for that
sport, so the fish were not disturbed in what Adrian knew was one of
their favorite haunts.
It did not take long to rig the lines on the poles, bait the hooks, and
cast in. Though Roger never had much chance to go fishing in the city,
the necessity of keeping quiet was apparent to him, and he moved about
as slowly and as easily as he could, standing in a place Adrian had
pointed out. Then he softly dropped the hook, with the wiggling,
dangling worm, into the water. Adrian did likewise, and then the boys
began to exercise that patience which all good fishermen are supposed to
be blessed with.
Roger felt a little tired from the tramp, and, after he had stood for
several minutes, he ventured to sit down on a piece of drift-wood that
was on the edge of the bank. Adrian, not feeling the strain of walking,
preferred to stand. It was very quiet along the edge of the creek,
screened as it was by the fringe of willows. Now and then a late-staying
bird, that had not yet flown south, darted in and out among the trees.
The dried cornstalks rustled in the wind, and there was a pleasant smell
in the air. Altogether it was a most delightful place to fish.
"I've got a bite," whispered Adrian, suddenly, and Roger noticed his
cousin's line trembling and shaking just where it entered the water.
"Watch me pull him out," went on Adrian softly.
The next instant he yanked his pole high in the air, and, dangling on
the end of the line, twisting and flopping so that its silvery sides
reflected the sun, was a good-sized fish. Roger leaped to his feet to
see the catch, which his cousin landed on the ground with a thud. He
started back to where the prize lay on the grassy bank, and then he felt
something give way beneath him. He seemed to be falling down, and in
desperation he clutched wildly at the air. He heard Adrian shouting, as
though he was miles away, and the next he knew the waters of the creek
closed above his head. A part of the bank where he had been sitting had
broken off, and carried him into the stream with a splash of the deep
water.
Roger thought he would never stop sinking down and down into the pool,
and, though at this point it was only about ten feet deep, the boy
imagined it must be three times that. He had kept hold of the pole when
he fell, and he dimly knew that his hands still grasped it as he tried
to strike out and spring to the surface. It was black as night all
around him, and the waters roared and sang in his ears.
For a half minute Adrian was so frightened by his cousin's disappearance
he did not know what to do. He felt sure Roger would be drowned, and,
already, he was charging himself with the responsibility for it.
Then a determination to save him came into the boy's mind. With a quick
motion he peeled off his coat, cast aside his cap, and, with his knife,
rapidly slit the laces of his shoes, as the easiest and most expeditious
way of undoing them. He kicked the leathers from him, leaped to the edge
of the bank, and was about to dive into the water when he saw Roger's
head bob up.
"Don't be afraid!" called Adrian. "I'll save you!"
He poised for the spring, but, to his surprise, instead of seeing Roger
helplessly floundering in the creek, he noticed that his cousin was
calmly treading water to keep himself afloat, for it was hard to swim
weighed down by clothes and shoes.
"Look out! Here I come!" cried Adrian.
"D-don't d-don't," stuttered Roger, his teeth chattering. He was a
little out of breath. "I c-c-can get o-o-out a-all r-r-right! I was a
l-l-little s-s-surprised a-at first!"
[Illustration: "Roger held up the fish pole so that Adrian could grasp
it"]
Adrian noticed that his cousin was making his way slowly toward more
shallow water. When he got to a point half way to the bank Roger held up
the fish pole, so that Adrian could grasp it. The latter saw the idea at
once, and, with a quick motion, he took hold of the bamboo rod, and
pulled his cousin along until it was an easy matter for the boy to
walk out. Roger stepped on the shelving bank, below the swimming hole,
dripping water like a big Newfoundland dog. His breathing was rather
uncertain, and his teeth chattered, for the water was cold.
"I thought at first you were a goner," said Adrian, grasping Roger's
hand heartily. "I never imagined you could swim."
"I learned how in the free baths down at the Battery, in New York, where
we fellows used to go Saturdays," explained Roger. "Only that's salt
water, and it's easier to keep afloat in than this. I wasn't scared
after the first few seconds. It took me by surprise, and knocked the
breath out of me, that's all. I didn't know where I was for a little
while."
"I don't blame you," agreed Adrian. "Well, I guess that'll be about all
the fishing to-day," he went on. "You'd better hurry home with me, and
get dry clothes on, so you won't catch cold. If it was July instead of
October it wouldn't matter so much. So come on; let's run for it."
They started off across the fields at a smart trot, and soon reached the
road. They got there just as a man came along, driving a light wagon.
"It's Enberry Took, who lives right below us," explained Adrian. "He'll
give us a lift. Hey, Enberry!"
"Whoa!" exclaimed the man in the wagon, pulling the horse up. "Been
fishin', boys, or swimmin'?" he asked as he looked at Roger dripping
water, and at the solitary fish Adrian carried. Then Mr. Took smiled
grimly, perhaps suspecting what had happened.
"We've been doing a little of both," explained Adrian. "Can we ride home
with you, Enberry? This is my cousin, Roger, from New York. He's here on
a visit."
"Hop in," invited Mr. Took, shortly, and, when the two boys were settled
in the bottom of the wagon, he whipped up his horse, which trotted over
the ground in good shape. Almost before Roger and Adrian knew it they
were at the gate of their house, greatly surprising Mrs. Kimball and
amusing her husband, who laughed heartily when he learned there was no
harm done.
"You'll make out all right," he said to Roger, as the boy went to change
his wet clothes for dry ones; "you've got a level head on your
shoulders, even if ye do live in New York. I'm proud on ye, thet's what
I am; I'm proud on ye, Roger."