There were some pale cheeks and heavy eyes the next morning, but no one
had taken cold from the exposure of the night, and most of the girls
were as fresh and full of life as ever. The camp, however, was strewn
with leaves and broken branches, and one tree was uprooted. Mrs.
Royall's face was grave as she thought of what might have been, had that
tree fallen across any of the tents. It was a heavy responsibility that
she carried with these forty girls under her charge, and never had she
felt it more deeply than now.
The baby bunny was evidently somebody's stray pet, for it submitted to
handling as if used to it, showed no desire to get away, and contentedly
nibbled the lettuce leaves and carrots which the girls begged of Katie.
"He fairly _purrs_ when I scratch his head," Louise Johnson declared
gaily. "Girls, we must keep him for the camp mascot."
"Looks as if we should have to keep him unless a claimant appears," Mary
Hastings said. "I've almost stepped on him twice already. I don't
believe we could drive him away with a club."
"Nobody wants to drive him away," retorted Louise, lifting him by his
long ears, "unless maybe Rose," she added, with a teasing glance over
her shoulder. "You know Rose doesn't care for _big_ furry things."
"Well, I guess," protested Rose, "if he had flopped into your face all
dripping wet, in the dark, as he did into mine last night, you wouldn't
have stopped to measure him before you yelled, any more than I did. He
_felt_ as big as--a wildcat, so there!" and Rose turned away with
flushed cheeks, followed by shouts of teasing laughter.
"It's--too bad. I'd have been scared too," said a low voice, and Rose,
turning, stared in amazement at the Poor Thing--the _Poor Thing_--for
almost the first time since she came to camp, volunteering a remark.
"Why--why, you Po--_Elizabeth_!" Rose stammered, and then suddenly she
slipped her arm around Elizabeth's waist and drew her off to the hammock
behind the pines. "Come," she said, "I want to tell you about it. The
girls are all laughing at me--especially Louise Johnson--but it wasn't
any laughing matter to me last night. I was scared stiff--truly I was!"
She poured the story of her experiences into the other girl's ears. The
fact that Elizabeth said nothing made no difference to Rose. She felt
the silent sympathy and was comforted. When she had talked herself out,
Elizabeth slipped away and sought Olga, but Olga was nowhere to be
found--not in the camp nor on the beach, but one of the boats was
missing, and at last a girl told Elizabeth that she had seen Olga go off
alone in it. That meant an age of anxious watching and waiting for the
Poor Thing. She never could get over her horror of the treacherous blue
water. To her it was a great restless monster forever reaching out after
some living thing to clutch and drag down into its cruel bosom. It was
agony to her to see Olga swim and dive; hardly less agony to see her go
off in a boat or canoe. Always Elizabeth was sure that _this_ time she
would not come back.
[Illustration:
We pull long, we pull strong, A dip now--a foaming prow
We pull keen and true; Through waters so blue
We sing to the king of the great black rocks
Through waters we glide like a long-tailed fox]
She had put on her bathing suit, for Olga still made her wade every
morning, and she wandered forlornly along the beach, and finally
ventured a little way into the water. It was horrible to do even that
alone, but she had promised, and she must do it even if Olga was not
there to know. A troop of girls in bathing suits came racing down to the
beach, Anne and Laura following them.
"What--who is that standing out in the water all alone?" demanded Anne
Wentworth, who was a little near-sighted.
Annie Pearson broke into a peal of laughter. "It's that Poor Thing," she
cried. "Did you ever see such a forlorn figure!"
"Looks like a sick penguin," laughed Louise Johnson.
"Why in the world is she standing there all alone?" cried Laura, and
hurried on ahead, calling, "Elizabeth--Elizabeth, come here. I want
you."
Elizabeth, standing in water up to her ankles, hesitated for a moment,
swept the wide stretch of blue with a wistful searching glance, and then
obeyed the summons.
"Why were you standing there, dear?" Laura questioned gently, leading
her away from the laughing curious girls.
Elizabeth lifted earnest eyes to the kind face bending towards her.
"I promised Olga I'd wade every day--so I had to." Then she broke out,
"O Miss Laura, do you think she'll come back? She went all alone, and
she isn't anywhere in sight."
Laura drew the shivering little figure close to her side. "Why, of
course she'll come back, Elizabeth. Why shouldn't she? She's been out so
scores of times, just as I have. What makes you worry so, child?"
Elizabeth drew a long shuddering breath. "I can't help it," she sighed.
"The water always makes me _so_ afraid, Miss Laura!"
She lifted such a white miserable face that Laura saw it was really
true--she was in the grip of a deadly terror. She drew the trembling
girl down beside her on the warm sand. "Let's sit here a little while,"
she said, and for a few minutes they sat in silence, while further up
the beach girls were wading and swimming and splashing each other, their
shouts of laughter making a merry din. Some were diving from the pier,
and one stood on a high springboard. Suddenly this one flung out her
arms and sprang off, her slim body seeming to float between sky and
water, as she swept downward in a graceful curving line.
Laura caught her breath nervously as her eyes followed the slender
figure that looked so very small outstretched between sky and water, and
Elizabeth covered her eyes with a little moan.
"O, I wish she wouldn't do that--I do wish she wouldn't!" she said under
her breath.
Laura spoke cheerfully. "She is all right. See, Elizabeth, how fast she
is swimming now."
But Elizabeth shook her head and would not look. Laura put her arm
across the narrow shrinking shoulders and after a moment spoke again,
slowly. "Elizabeth, you love Olga, don't you?"
Elizabeth looked up quickly. She did not answer--or need to.
"Yes, I know you do," Laura went on, answering the look. "But do you
love her enough to do something very hard--for her?"
"Yes, Miss Laura. Tell me what. She won't ever let me do anything for
her."
"It will be very, very hard for you," Laura warned her.
The girl looked at her silently, and waited.
"Elizabeth, I don't think you could do anything else that would please
her so much as to conquer your fear of the water _for her sake_. Can you
do such a hard thing as that--for Olga?"
A look of positive agony swept over Elizabeth's face. "_Any_thing but
just that," she moaned. "O Miss Laura, you don't know--you _can't_ know
how I hate it--that deep black water!"
"But can't you--even for Olga?" Laura questioned very gently.
Elizabeth shook her head and two big tears rolled down her cheeks. "I
would if I could. I'd do anything, anything else for her; but that--I
_can't_!" she moaned.
Laura put her hand under the trembling chin, and lifting the girl's face
looked deep into the blue eyes swimming with tears.
"Elizabeth," she said slowly, a world of love and sympathy in her voice,
"Elizabeth, you _can_!"
In that long deep look the dread and horror and misery died slowly out
of Elizabeth's eyes, and a faint incredulous hope began to grow in
them. It was as if she literally drew courage and determination from the
eyes looking into hers, and who can tell what subtle spirit message
really passed from the strong soul into the weaker one?
"I never, never could," Elizabeth faltered; but Laura caught the note of
wavering hope in the low-spoken words.
"Elizabeth, you can. I _know_ you can," she repeated.
"How?" questioned Elizabeth, and Laura smiled and drew her closer.
"You are afraid of the water," she said, "and your fear is like a cord
that binds your will just as your arms might be bound to your sides with
a scarf. But you can break the cord, and when you do, you will not be
afraid of the water any more. Myra Karr was afraid just as you
are--afraid of almost everything, but one wonderful day she conquered
her fear. Ask her and she will tell you about it, and how much happier
she has been ever since, as you will be when you have broken your cords.
And just think how it will please Olga!"
There was a little silence; then suddenly Elizabeth leaned forward,
eagerly pointing off over the water. "Is it--is she coming?" she
whispered.
"Yes, she is coming. Now just think how you have suffered worrying over
her this morning, and all for nothing."
Elizabeth drew a long happy breath. "I don't care now she's coming," she
said, and it was as if she sang the words.
Laura went on, "Have you noticed, Elizabeth, how different Olga is from
the other girls? She never laughs and frolics. She never really enjoys
any of the games. She cares for nothing but work. She hasn't a single
friend in the camp--she won't have one. I don't think she is happy, do
you?"
Elizabeth considered that in silence. She had known these things, but
she had never thought of them before.
"It's so," she admitted finally, her eyes on the approaching boat.
"Elizabeth, I think you are the only one who can really help Olga."
"I?" Elizabeth lifted wondering eyes. Then she added hastily, "You
mean--going in the water?" She shuddered at the thought.
"Yes, dear, if you will let Olga help you to get rid of your fear of the
water, it will mean more to her even than to you. Olga needs you, child,
more than you need her, for you have many friends now in the camp, and
she has only you."
"I like her the best of all," Elizabeth declared loyally.
"Yes, but you must prove it to her before you can really help her,"
Laura replied. "See, she is almost in now, and I won't keep you any
longer."
Olga secured her boat to a ring and ran lightly up the steps. In a few
minutes she came back in her bathing suit. As she ran down the beach,
she swept a swift searching glance over the few girls sitting or lying
on the sand; then her eyes rested on a little shrinking figure standing
like a small blue post, knee deep in the water. It was Elizabeth, her
cheeks colourless, her eyes fixed beseechingly, imploringly, on Olga's
face. In a flash Olga was beside her, crying out sharply,
"What made you come in alone?"
"I p-promised you----" Elizabeth replied, her teeth chattering.
"Well, you've done it," said Olga. "Cut out now and get dressed."
But Elizabeth stood still and shook her head. "No," though her lips
trembled, her voice was determined, "no, Olga, I'm going up to my--my
neck to-day," and she held out her hands.
"You are not--you're coming out!" Olga declared. "You're in a blue funk
this minute."
"I--know it," gasped Elizabeth, "but I'm going in--_alone_--if you won't
go with me. Quick, Olga, quick!" she implored.
Some instinct stilled the remonstrance on Olga's lips. She grasped
Elizabeth by her shoulders and walking backward herself, drew the other
girl steadily on until the water rose to her neck. Elizabeth gasped, and
deadly fear looked out of her straining eyes, but she made no sound. The
next instant Olga had turned and was pulling her swiftly back to the
beach.
"There! You see it didn't hurt you," she said brusquely, but never
before had she looked at Elizabeth as she looked at her then. "Now run
to the bathhouse and rub yourself hard before you dress," she ordered.
But Elizabeth had turned again towards the water, and Olga followed,
amazed and protesting.
"Go back," cried Elizabeth over her shoulder, "go back. I'm going in
alone this time."
And alone she went until once more the water surged and rippled about
her neck. Only an instant--then she swayed and her eyes closed; but
before she could lose her footing Olga's hands were on her shoulders and
pushing her swiftly back to the beach. This time, however, she did not
stop there, but swept the small figure over to the bathhouse. There she
gave Elizabeth a brisk rubdown that set the blood dancing in her veins.
"Now get into your clothes in a hurry!" she commanded.
"I'm--n-not c-cold, Olga," Elizabeth protested with a pallid smile,
"truly I'm not. I'm just n-nervous, I guess."
"You're just a _brick_, Elizabeth Page!" cried Olga, and she slammed the
door and vanished, leaving Elizabeth glowing with delight.
Each day after that Elizabeth insisted on venturing a little more. Olga
could guess what it cost her--her blue lips and the terror in her eyes
told that--but day after day she fought her battle over and would not be
worsted. She learned to float, to tread water, and then, very, very
slowly, she learned to swim a little. Laura, looking on, rejoiced over
both the girls. Everybody was interested in this marvellous achievement
of the Poor Thing--they spoke of her less often by that name now--but
only Laura realised how much it meant to Olga too. The day that
Elizabeth succeeded in swimming a few yards, Olga for the first time
took her out on the water at sunset; she had never been willing to go
before. Even now she stepped into the boat shrinkingly, the colour
coming and going in her cheeks, but when she was seated, and the boat
floating gently on the rose-tinted water, the tense lines faded slowly
from her face, and at last she even smiled a little.
"Well," said Olga, "are you still scared?"
"A little--but not much. If I wasn't any afraid it would be lovely--like
rocking in a big, big beautiful cradle," she ended dreamily.
A swift glance assured Olga that they had drifted away from the other
boats--there was no one within hearing. She leaned forward and looked
straight into the eyes of the other girl. "Now I want to know what made
you get over your fear of the water," she said.
"Maybe I've not got over it--quite," Elizabeth parried.
"What made you? Tell me!" Olga's tone was peremptory.
"You," said Elizabeth.
"I? But I didn't--I couldn't. I'd done my best, but I couldn't drag you
into water above your knees--you know I couldn't. Somebody else did it,"
Olga declared, a spark flickering in her eyes.
"Miss Laura talked to me that day you were off so long in the boat,"
Elizabeth admitted. "She told me I could get over being afraid. I didn't
think I _could_ before--truly, Olga. I honestly thought I'd die if ever
the water came up to my neck. I don't know how she did it--Miss
Laura--but she made me see that I could get over being so awfully
afraid--and I did."
"You said _I_ did it," there was reproach as well as jealousy now in
Olga's voice, "and it was Miss Laura."
"O no, it was you really," Elizabeth cried hastily, "because I did it
for you. I never could have--never in this world!--only Miss Laura said
it would please you. I did it for you, Olga."
"Hm," was Olga's only response, but now there was in her eyes something
that the Poor Thing had never seen there before--a warm human
friendliness that made Elizabeth radiantly happy.
"There comes the war canoe," Olga cried a moment later.
"How fast it comes--and how pretty the singing sounds!" Elizabeth
returned.
They watched the big canoe as it flashed by, the many paddles rising and
falling as one, while a dozen young voices sang gaily,
"'We pull long, we pull strong,
We pull keen and true.
We sing to the king of the great black rocks,
Through waters we glide like a long-tailed fox.'"
"Next year," said Olga, "I'm going to teach you to paddle, Elizabeth."