Mabel's Astonishing Discovery
THE campers rose the next morning without suspecting that a very
strange thing was about to happen; or that Mabel, who was still in
disgrace because of her habit of half drowning her trusting companions,
was, on that never-to-be-forgotten day, as they say in books, to cover
herself with glory--instead of mud.
The inhabitants of Pete's Patch rose to find the sun shining, the wind
gone, the lake settled back in its proper place.
"The sea began to subside before I turned in last night," said Mr.
Black. "It's as gentle as a lamb to-day."
"Look at the shore!" cried Marjory. "It's different. The beach that
was sandy before the storm is all pebbly now; and down there where the
cobblestones were it's all beautiful, smooth sand."
"And look," supplemented Jean, "at the mouth of that surprising river.
It's a lot wider than it was when we came."
"Some time to-day," said Mr. Black, "I want to go to the little cove
about halfway between here and Barclay's Point. That seems to be the
spot that catches everything that is cast up by the sea. I need some
thin boards for your cupboard, Sarah. I noticed the other day that the
sharp cleft in the rocks back of that cove was filled with boards."
"That's an awfully interesting spot," said Jean. "If sailors threw
bottles overboard with letters in them, that's where you'd find
them--everything washes in at that spot."
"Or," said Henrietta, "if the captain lashed his only daughter to the
mast and threw her overboard, that's where she'd land."
"Oh, I _hope_ not," breathed tender-hearted Bettie.
"So do I," laughed Henrietta, with an impish glance at Mr. Black.
"Think of being wrecked on the reef of Pete's Patch!"
"Norman's Woe certainly sounds better," agreed Mr. Black, "but let us
hope that no one got wrecked _any_ place. Now I must take a look at the
Whale--I'm wondering how she weathered the storm."
"It's my turn to wash dishes," announced Jean.
"And mine to wipe," said Henrietta.
"Then Bettie and I will do the beds," said Marjory, quickly.
Mabel, left out in the cold, scowled darkly for a moment. Then she sat
up very stiffly indeed.
"I shall go all by myself and pick up two big baskets of driftwood,"
said she.
"To-morrow morning," offered sympathetic Jean, "you're invited to do
dishes with me, Mabel."
"And beds with me," added impish Henrietta.
"And to wash potatoes with me," teased Marjory.
"Why not let me do _all_ the work?" queried Mabel, huffily. "But I
_will_ do dishes with you, Jean. I know _you_ meant to be polite."
Presently Mabel, with two of the big baskets that had come with the
provisions, slid down the sand bank to the beach. It was certainly a
fine morning. Within two minutes, sturdy Mabel had forgotten that the
others were paired off and that she was the odd one.
"The sky is blue, blue, blue," sang Mabel, marching up the smooth, hard
beach; "the water is blue, blue, blue with golden sparkles; and the air
is warm enough and cool enough and clean, clean, cle--ow!"
A leisurely wave had crept in and made a playful dash for Mabel's
heedless feet.
"You got me that time," beamed friendly Mabel. "I guess you wanted to
remind me that I was out after wood. All right, Mr. Lake, I'll walk
closer to the bank. My! What nice little blocks for our fire. I _love_
to find things."
Soon both baskets were filled; but by this time Mabel was well out of
sight of the camp, having passed two of the little rocky points that
extended into the lake, north of Pete's Patch.
"I wish I had a hundred baskets to fill," sighed Mabel. "I guess I'll
leave these right here and go a little farther; it's such a nice day
and I _love_ to go adventuring. Oh! I know what I'll do; I'll go to
Barclay's Point after my sweater--I hope it hasn't blown away."
So Mabel, with a definite object in view, started at a brisker pace
toward Barclay's. Presently she reached the cove mentioned by Mr. Black
as a catch-all for floating timber. The water was deeper at this place
and a strong current carried quantities of driftwood to this wide,
bowl-shaped cove. In severe storms, some of it was tossed high among
the rocks and gnarled roots in a ravine-like cleft at the back. Nearer
the water, many great logs, partially embedded in the sand, caught and
held the lighter material tossed in by the waves.
"Oh!" cried Mabel, "I wish I had a _million_ baskets! I know what I'll
do. I'll just toss a lot of those go-in-a-basket pieces into a big pile
way up there where the waves can't get them."
Gathering up the edges of her skirt, sturdy Mabel filled it with the
clean, if not particularly dry, bits of wood, worn satin-smooth and
white by long buffetings against graveled shores.
"I'll throw them behind that log," decided Mabel, toiling inland with
her heavy burden. "They'll be perfectly safe up there--My! But they're
pretty heavy. I guess there's room back of that big log for a whole
wag--wow! ow!"
Mabel's final syllable was a curious, startled sound. While not
precisely a gasp, a shriek, or a shout, it was a queer combination of
all three.
Mabel was startled, and with good reason. The space behind the log was
already occupied; and by something that looked human.
The surprised little girl saw first a pair of water-soaked shoes
attached to two very thin, boyish legs in black stockings. Beyond the
stockings was a gray mass of tangled fish-net wound about something
bulky and white that Mabel concluded was a life-preserver. Beyond
that, an extended arm was partly buried in the sand. A thin, white hand
was firmly closed over a sharply projecting point of rock. Very close
against the huge log, so close as to be almost under it, was a shining,
golden ball, the back of a boy's close-cropped head.
[Illustration: THE SPACE BEHIND THE LOG WAS ALREADY OCCUPIED]
For a long moment Mabel, who had unconsciously dropped her load on her
own toes, stood still and gazed questioningly at her unexpected find.
Then the astonished little adventurer climbed over the wood she had
dropped, bent down, and, with one finger, touched the boy's stocking,
gingerly.
"If--if he'd been here very long," she said, sagely, "his stockings
would have been faded. Things fade pretty fast on the lake shore.
Perhaps if I poke him he'll wake up."
Mabel prodded the unfaded legs very gently with a pointed stick. There
was no response.
"I guess he's dead," she sighed. "But I s'pose I ought to feel his
pulse to find out for sure--ugh! I sort of hate to--suppose he _is_
dead!"
But, bravely overcoming her distaste for this obvious duty, Mabel
laid a trembling finger on the slim white hand. It was not as cold and
clammy as she had feared to find it. Mabel touched it again, this time
with several fingers. Yes, the hand was actually a little bit warm.
As she bent closer to the golden head, it seemed to Mabel that she
could detect a sound of breathing, rather heavy breathing, Mabel
thought; a little like Mrs. Crane's, when that good lady snored.
Mabel crouched patiently near the prostrate lad and listened. The
labored breathing certainly came from that recumbent boy.
"But," argued Mabel, "if he's only taking a nap, why is he all tangled
up in that net? And there's that life-preserver. He's been wrecked and
tossed up, I believe. And he's still all wet underneath. Perhaps I
ought to wake him up--he ought not to sleep in such wet clothes."
So Mabel grasped her discovery very firmly by one thin shoulder and
shook him quite vigorously; but he still slept. Then, clutching him
by both shoulders, she succeeded in dragging the heavy sleeper a few
inches from the log; but he seemed rather too firmly anchored to his
resting-place for this method to work successfully. Still, she had
gained something, for now one ear and a bit of one cheek were visible.
They were not white like the extended hand, but darkly red and very hot
to the touch.
"Boy!" called Mabel. "Why don't you wake up? Don't you know that you're
not drowned? Wake up, I say! Whoo! Whoo! _Whoo!_"
But the boy, in spite of what should have proved alarming sounds,
made, as they were, in his very ear, still slumbered on in a strange,
baffling fashion; and Mabel, after watching him in a puzzled way for
several moments longer, found a broad shingle, which she balanced
neatly on the boy's unconscious head.
"That'll keep the sun off," said she, "while I'm gone for help."