THE RESCUE
After the canoe had started on its voyage that was to prove so
terrifying to the girls, Joy had stretched herself at full length in
the sand preparing for a lazy afternoon. She was content just to let
the sand sift through her fingers. Mostly she liked to dance or sing,
but today she was too indolent. Shirley busied herself as usual,
directing her camera this time toward some gulls that flew above her
head.
"Now I'm going to fix the camera ready to get a good snap of the girls
in the canoe. Kit wants one to send to her mother."
"I do believe they've gone clear over to the other side, haven't they,
Shirley?" said Joy jumping to her feet.
"There they are, they look like a little speck over there."
But as soon as they saw the first sign of a storm, they grew restless.
"I do wish those girls would get back! It's not safe to be out in a
canoe in any kind of a storm."
The cloud grew bigger and bigger and was turning black and menacing. A
storm was coming. "I know what I'm going to do," declared Joy. "That
rain isn't far off. I'm going for help before it's needed."
Just what she intended to do, she hardly knew. She had made no plan.
She would go to the Manor and tell Uncle Nat.
A few rods up the path she met Bob Evans and Phil Gordon.
"Here we are!" Bob shouted. "We've come without an invitation from
you, Joy Evans. Where's the eats? We're starved."
"Bet said she'd be glad to see us," laughed Phil, pretending
displeasure with Joy.
"Oh Bob, quick!" cried Joy. "Do something! Bet and Kit are out in the
canoe, just started back from the other side. It looks terribly mean,
I think there is going to be a bad storm."
"Oh you needn't worry if Bet is paddling. You can trust her. She can
paddle a canoe better than any man. I wouldn't be afraid for her even
in a storm," said Phil unconcernedly. "Anyway I don't think it will
amount to anything!"
"You're wrong, Phil," exclaimed Bob as they neared the beach. "That
cloud certainly looks like a storm." The first gust of wind struck
them.
"It's coming, all right!" Phil looked anxiously toward the canoe. "And
when it comes it's going to be a hum-dinger!"
"Let's get the motor boat into action," cried Bob. "If it blows up a
nasty squall, Kit may get panicky. You can trust Bet in a tight place,
but Kit is a new-comer."
"Can Kit swim?" asked Phil.
"A little," answered Shirley, "But I know she could never get along in
rough water."
"Do hurry boys, we're terribly worried," urged Joy.
The boys were wearing bathing suits under their clothes and it only
took a moment for them to strip.
To add to the distress of the girls, Smiley Jim had arrived and was
racing up and down the sand barking in a long-drawn-out, mournful howl
toward the river. Shirley caught him by the collar.
"That's no way to do, Smiley. You can't help Bet that way! Quiet
down!" The dog was trembling in every limb. He'd ceased his howling
when the boys started out into the water.
With long-reaching arm strokes they cut the waves and sped toward the
launch that was moored a short distance from the shore.
It took only a few minutes to start the motor and as it headed toward
the channel, Phil said, "There they are, they're all right."
Then the rain came up the river as if it were a great grey curtain
shutting out the river and shore.
"Hurry Bob!" shouted Phil. "They're gone."
A moment later, he called again: "No, there they are. Go down stream a
little Bob, the current is running so strong that Bet can't keep it on
a straight course."
"We'll never get them in this storm!" groaned Bob, as the rain again
shut out the sight of the canoe. Drifting downward with the current,
they worked outward toward the middle of the river.
A flash of lightning pierced the grey sheet.
"I see them, Bob! Straight ahead!"
The canoe rose on a huge wave, seemed to stand on end, then disappeared.
"They're gone!" Phil closed his eyes to shut out the sight that he
feared he might have to see, two struggling figures in the water.
And at that same moment Bet thought that the canoe would never right
itself. Yet she held on, stubbornly. Her arms ached and every move
was agony. At times she thought that all her strength was gone and
that she would have to give up.
Help was coming! But would she be able to hold out until that boat
came? She was doing things mechanically now, without thought, and
instinct seemed to guide her to do the right thing.
"I think I see some one, Bet. Hold on for dear life! We'll win
yet!--There they are. Someone is coming, Bet!"
Bet did not raise her eyes from her work. She heard Kit's assurance
that help was near and for a second she felt faint again and giddy.
Even when she could hear the chug-chug of the motor, she realized that
it was not going to be an easy job to be transferred from the canoe.
There was still greater danger ahead than anything they had yet
experienced. The approach of the launch in the rough sea would almost
surely upset the canoe. The boys realized that too. They slowed up
and circled the boat, gradually coming closer. It took all of Bet's
strength to hold it.
Phil knew that to try to swim toward them would be foolish in the
storm. Then an idea came to him. He spoke to Bob and he brought the
launch near the canoe again.
Kit was bailing water for all she was worth, but keeping her eyes on
the motor boat at the same time. Then as the boat came near she saw
something flung toward her, something that the mountain girl understood
and knew how to handle. A rope! With quick practiced reach, she
caught it.
"Put it around your waist, Kit. They can never tow us in this storm."
Bet's teeth were chattering now.
Kit quickly made a loop and fastened it around Bet's waist. "Now Bet,
you're safe," she cried. "And I'll hold on to you."
The motor boat had drifted away from them but again Bob brought it
alongside. Another rope was flung toward them, but the wind sent it
flying backward.
"If I could only have jumped for it!" thought Kit, but she knew that
any movement might mean destruction.
Four times Phil threw the rope before Kit caught it and fastened it
about herself.
Bet, knowing that they were safe, may have relaxed her efforts, or
perhaps the very end of her strength had been reached. The canoe took
a wave side-on and turned completely over.
Kit struggled, gulped and swallowed as the cold water covered her and
she felt herself being drawn toward the boat. But Bet did not remember
anything of the plunge.
They were still in danger, for it needed Bob and Phil to raise the two
girls over the side of the launch, and it looked at times as if the
motorboat would be swallowed up. The little canoe was left, to be
tossed about on the waves.
When the motor again purred and the boat had headed toward the shore,
the two girls were in the bottom of the launch. Bet lay there deathly
white and showed no sign of life. Kit was sobbing and shaking and was
no possible help to the boy, who was trying to revive the still figure
of the plucky girl.
The wind subsided as quickly as it had come and by the time the motor
reached the dock, the storm was over. Phil lifted Bet in his arms and
carried her to the sand. Uncle Nat and Auntie Gibbs had been called
and were there to help.
"Get her to the house at once," exclaimed Uncle Nat, as he half carried
Kit ashore. She was trembling so violently that she could not stand.
"I telephoned Dr. Snow what was happening and he said he would come at
once."
Auntie Gibbs stood there wringing her hands and calling on Bet to speak
to her. Smiley Jim snuggled up to the still form of Bet and howled
furiously when she did not call to him.
Phil and Bob carried Bet up the hill to the Manor. At the door they
met Dr. Snow, who without a word began working over the unconscious
girl.
"She'll be all right!" He finally spoke to Auntie Gibbs who was almost
beside herself with fear. "I don't think she's swallowed much water.
It's probably exhaustion more than anything else. Better get her to
bed."
A stimulant injected in Bet's arm soon brought her back to life, and
when Auntie Gibbs had wrapped her in blankets and given her a hot
drink, the blood began to circulate once more and she smiled up at the
old housekeeper.
"Don't worry, Auntie Gibbs, I'm tough!"
And strange to say it was Kit and not Bet who was the more seriously
affected by the accident.
As Doctor Snow relaxed his efforts over Bet, Shirley touched him on the
arm. "Come and see Kit, Doctor. She's sick. Terribly sick, I'm
afraid. She wouldn't let me come any sooner until she knew that Bet
was better."
The doctor hastened after Shirley and found Kit shaking with chills.
"Get a bed ready in a hurry," commanded the doctor and as Auntie Gibbs
flew up stairs, he said:
"Help me here, Phil. We'll carry her right up."
Kit tried to speak but her voice was only a wheezing rasp and ended in
a groan.
When Mrs. Stacey arrived, having been called by Shirley, she was
anxious to get Kit to the hospital, but the doctor refused to have her
moved. "Everything depends on keeping her quiet and warm during the
next few hours."
At six o'clock when Colonel Baxter arrived, he rushed into the house
like a man whose reason had left him. He had heard of the accident and
had been told that Bet was dying, if not already dead.
"Bet! Oh Bet!" he moaned. His face was deadly white. "Bet! Where is
she?"
Shirley was at his side in a moment. "Bet is all right, Colonel
Baxter. She's sound asleep now and seems comfortable. It's Kit we're
worried about."
Colonel Baxter's face looked relieved for a second, then he realized
that if anything happened to Kit some other father would feel as he
felt on that ride from the station.
He slipped into Bet's room and looked at her for a moment as if to
assure himself that she was safe, then went to Kit. The doctor was
alone at the bedside.
"Will she live, Doctor?" he asked, his voice trembling with emotion.
"It will be a hard pull tonight to keep this from developing into
pneumonia. She's strong and ought to pull through--but one never can
tell. She's a sick girl."
Mrs. Stacey spoke:
"I do not see how I can impose on you in this way, Colonel Baxter. I
feel as if we should get the child to the hospital."
"Please don't say that, Mrs. Stacey. Consider the Manor your home and
Kit's until she is perfectly well again. Get the best nurse you know
of, Doctor."
"She will need watching every hour tonight if we are to prevent a
serious illness. I will remain here, and I've already called up a good
nurse."
In the morning Kit was resting quietly. The terrible wheezing had
ceased and the fever was coming down.
In her delirium, Kit had cried, "Help, help!" until Bet, awakened by
her cries, wrapped herself up and crept into the room.
"Go back to bed," ordered the doctor. "You'll be sick next."
"No, I won't, Doctor Snow. Kit needs me, I must help her. Please let
me speak to her. I'm sure I can quiet her."
Bet knelt by the bed and clasped Kit's hand. "Listen Kit," she said
quietly but firmly. "This is Bet; I'm all right. We're both safe at
home."
Kit started up, "No, no. Bet is drowned! I saw her so white."
"Kit dear, listen to me. This is Bet. I'm right here beside you!"
Bet repeated the sentence over and over until at last the sick brain
seemed to grasp the idea and the girl quieted down, and even slept for
a few minutes.
"She'll be all right now," the doctor announced to Colonel Baxter, who
had come in to inquire how Kit was. "And you'd better get your
daughter back to bed. She's been under a strain and needs rest."
The Colonel lifted Bet tenderly in his arms and carried her to her room.
"Sit by me, Dad, I'm frightened," she sighed. "It's so comfortable to
have you. I want to hold on to you, then I don't think about that
storm."
The Colonel took the little hand in his and held it until she finally
relaxed and fell asleep. Not until the lines of strain had left her
face, to be replaced by a peaceful expression, did he go back to his
own room.
Even then he could not sleep. The details of the storm were pictured
in his mind and kept him awake. Adding horror upon horror, he tossed
from side to side.
"What if Bet had been drowned!"
Again and again he arose and tiptoed into Bet's room to make sure that
she was resting, and that he still had her! Without Bet, life would be
unbearable!