MR. RAIKES. OF PORTLAND.
The catastrophe was one of appalling swiftness. Brick and Hamp could
scarcely realize what had happened. The hole that had swallowed Jerry up
yawned at their very feet.
It was less than two feet in diameter, and its edges were jagged. The
surface of the deep, blue water went swirling around and around, as
though an under-current existed. Doubtless there was one, and it had
sucked Jerry far down. He did not reappear, though the boys strained
their eyes on the fatal spot. The seconds went by--twenty--half a
minute.
Hamp uttered a groan of agony.
"Jerry, Jerry!" he cried aloud.
"Look out!" exclaimed Brick, as he dragged him back. "You'll go in, too.
It's all up with poor Jerry. There's no hope--not an atom."
His voice quavered and broke; he dashed a tear from his eye. Hamp was
crying, too. Loud sobs burst from his bosom. Just then the stranger
reached the spot. He had seen the accident from a distance.
"Which one was it?" he demanded. "Which one? Tell me his name, quick."
It was a strange request, and he spoke in eager, excited tones. But the
boys were too much concerned to notice such a trifle.
"It--it was Jerry," sobbed Hamp.
"Jerry who?"
"Jerry--Jerry Brenton."
"Brenton? Ah!"
The man's voice and manner showed intense relief.
"Poor fellow," he added. "Nothing can be done to help him. The water is
deep, and he must have been carried far under the ice. Where is the
catamount--the author of all the mischief?"
This was a heartless question, and the boys were too indignant to reply.
At such a moment they would have cared little for a dozen catamounts.
"Oh! oh!" moaned Hamp. "Poor Jerry! What shall we do? What shall we do?"
So complete and hopeless was their despair that what followed seemed at
first like a dream. They heard a crackling sound, and then a plaintive
cry. It was really Jerry's voice, calling faintly for help from a
distance.
Brick was the first to notice a dark blot some twenty feet out on the
ice. He rushed toward it with a yell of delight, followed by Hamp and
the stranger.
The dark blot was Jerry's head and shoulders. The rim of broken ice
fitted close to his armpits, and his outstretched hands were clutching
at the glossy surface.
"Help! help!" he cried, in a weak and quavering voice. "I'm going under
again, fellows."
"No, you ain't," shouted Hamp. "We'll save you. Hold on a minute."
"Don't go too near by yourself," warned Jerry. "The ice will break."
"That's so," cried Brick, giving one hand to Hamp. The stranger, in
turn, took hold of Brick, and thus a triply-strong line was formed. Hamp
went forward on his knees until he was able to grasp one of Jerry's
hands.
All pulled together. It was a time of terrible suspense. Twice Jerry was
almost out of water, and twice the edge of the ice crumbled, letting him
slip back.
Fortunately Hamp did not break through. He bravely withstood the strain,
and, at last, a mighty effort pulled Jerry out beside him, and he was
dragged to a place of safety.
Hamp rubbed his arm.
"I thought the muscles were going to crack," he said. "It was an awful
strain. But I would have lost both arms sooner than see you drown,
Jerry."
"Better get the lad back to the campfire at once," suggested the
stranger.
This was good advice, for Jerry was simply speechless with cold. His
face and hands were blue, and he shivered like a leaf as he stood with
dripping clothes.
Hamp and Brick took Jerry between them, and away they sped for camp. The
stranger followed, and he was close behind the others when they reached
the fire. The boys now saw him clearly, for the first time, as he stood
in the light of the flames.
The man was about thirty years old, with brown hair and a slight,
yellowish mustache. His face was good-humored and rather prepossessing.
He wore gray trousers, and a short, but heavy, overcoat was buttoned up
to his throat.
"You've got dry clothes for the lad?" he asked.
"Yes; each of us has an extra suit," replied Hamp.
He and Brick bustled in and out of the cabin, and in a brief time they
had Jerry attired in dry garments. His lips were still blue, and he
shivered as though he had a chill. The boys wrapped him in blankets, and
made him sit close up to the fire. Then they heaped on quantities of
wood, until the roaring flames were leaping high.
The stranger took a small flask from his pocket and wrenched a metal cup
from the end. Into the latter he poured a few drops of a reddish liquor.
"Drink this, lad," he said, handing the cup to Jerry, who drained it
hastily and made a wry face.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Brandy, and prime stuff, at that. It's thirty years old."
Jerry shivered to think what the stuff would have tasted like had it
been twice as old.
It was just what he needed, however, and in a short time the shivering
ceased, and the color came back to his cheeks.
"How do you feel now?" asked Hamp.
"Splendid. It's awfully snug and warm under these blankets. I'll bet you
fellows were scared when I went through the ice."
"Well, I should say so," replied Brick. "We never expected to see you
again. How did you get to that hole, anyhow?"
"It was presence of mind did that," declared Jerry. "You see, as soon
as I broke through, a sort of an under-current sucked me deep down and
to one side. I opened my eyes and began to swim. I came up with a bump,
and then I knew I was clear under the ice. I saw a gray streak away off
in front of me. I knew it must be the light shining through an
air-hole, and swam for it. Then I went up head first, and you fellows
know the rest. My rifle is at the bottom of the lake, though."
"We've got guns enough without it," replied Hamp. "Don't worry about
that. You can be mighty glad that you're not beside the rifle, Jerry."
"It was, indeed, a most marvelous escape," said the stranger. "Had this
brave lad been drowned, I should have put the blame upon myself. It was
to save me from the catamount that you lads ventured out on the lake."
"I only wish we had killed the brute," grumbled Jerry.
"Yes, it is unfortunate that he got away," admitted the stranger. "But I
forget that I have not yet introduced myself. I hope you will overlook
my carelessness. My name is Silas Raikes, and I hail from Portland,
Maine. I am camping a mile or two from here with a friend. His name is
Joe Bogle, and he belongs in Augusta. We are out on a little prospecting
expedition."
The boys nodded.
"Some hours ago we were attacked by wolves, but managed to drive them
off. When we heard shots a little later, we knew that there must be
other campers near by, and that they were in peril. So I left Joe to
guard camp, and came to your assistance. But, as it so happened, the
tables were turned, and I was the one to need help. My rifle was
useless from a fall in the snow, and the catamount very nearly captured
me."
"Then we are square all round," said Brick, laughingly. "We're much
obliged to you for your good intentions, all the same. If you had come a
little sooner, you would have seen some lively times."
He went on to describe in a graphic manner the thrilling events of the
night. Mr. Raikes took a keen interest in the tale, and overwhelmed the
boys with praise.
"I should be glad to know such brave lads more intimately," he said.
"Let me see. Have I forgotten your names already?"
"I guess you never knew them," replied Hamp, with outspoken candor. "My
name is Foster, and over there is Jerry Brenton. We are both from
Bangor. This fellow is Brick Larkins, and he lives in New York."
"Jim Larkins," corrected Brick, with a roguish look at Hamp.
"Larkins, Larkins," repeated Mr. Raikes, as he thoughtfully rubbed his
forehead. "Where have I heard that name? Ah, yes. Surely you are no
relative of John Larkins, the wealthy contractor of Lexington avenue,
New York?"
"His son, that's all," replied Brick. "Do you know him?"
"I have met him in a business way. And so you are his son? Well, I am
glad to make your acquaintance. Your object is hunting, I presume?"
"We started out with that intention," replied Brick, "but so far the
wolves and the catamounts and the deer have been hunting us."
The boys laughed, and Mr. Raikes joined in heartily. He took a cigar
from Ins pocket and lighted it with a glowing ember.