A SURPRISE
Fred's words created much excitement. Some of the boys stood and looked
out to where Colon was struggling desperately in the deep water,
seeming to be almost paralyzed with alarm. Others, who kept their wits
about them, started after Fred, who, plunging in, was already swimming
across the Mohunk.
Fred knew the danger that awaited them. When anyone is drowning, he or
she seems to lose all the good sense which at another time he may have
possessed. The instinct of self preservation is so strong that a
drowning boy will clutch at his dearest friend, and hold frantically to
him, not because he wants to pull the other down, but because he hopes
to be himself buoyed up.
"Help! help!" Colon was trying to scream, though the water, getting in
his mouth, muffled the sound considerably.
There was no need of his wasting what little breath he still possessed.
His chums were doing everything in their power to assist him before it
was too late.
Fred presently arrived close to Colon, who had been under water once,
and sank again even as his camp-mate arrived on the spot. It gave Fred
a sickening feeling to see the poor fellow threshing wildly with his
long arms, grasping at a floating chip, which, to his excited mind, was
magnified into a log.
Fred had made sure to be above the other when he arrived. He wanted the
benefit of the current in carrying out the plan he had in mind.
One last look he took to locate Colon. Then he dove out of sight, so
that the other might not see him coming, and try to clutch him. Once
those frenzied hands closed upon any part of his person, Fred knew that
he would have to strike Colon in the face, and stun him, before he
could break loose.
But he had figured well, for he came up just behind the struggling boy,
who was making one last effort to keep on the surface, ere going down
for the last time.
Quick as a flash Fred threw his arm around Colon, who, just as he
expected, tried desperately to seize him. This the other prevented with
all his strength.
All he wanted to do now was to continue to hold Colon until some of the
others arrived on the scene, when altogether they might be able to work
him to the shore.
Had he been alone with Colon, Fred feared he must have resorted to
other tactics if he hoped to get the other out of the river alive. But
Brad and several more of the strong swimmers had by now reached a point
close enough for them to ask what he wanted them to do. Even in that
moment they recognized the fact that Fred was the one to whom they
should look for orders, because he always knew just what to do in an
emergency.
"Each one of you get a grip on an arm; and be sure you don't let him
grab you," was what Fred said.
Brad readily carried out the instructions, and helped buoy up the
helpless boy; while Sid Wells took the other arm.
"He's dead!" cried the latter, seeing that Colon no longer struggled,
but lay like a log in the water.
"Don't you believe it," answered Fred, instantly. "He's swallowed a
whole lot of water, and is pretty far gone; but let's get him ashore,
and revive him!"
Others had by now come up, and between the lot poor Colon was hurried
to the bank, up which he was carried.
"Lay him here, face down, so I can straddle him with my knees!" Fred
called out. "Now, some of you begin, and work his arms back and forth
regularly, while I press down on his lungs so as to induce artificial
breathing. That's the only way to get things started, you see. A little
harder, Brad, please. And don't the rest of you look so scared. He's
going to come out of this. He wasn't under the water any time at all,
but just gave way because of the cramp and the scare."
So Fred talked as he worked, and all the while he was building up the
hopes of the fellows, who looked peaked and white, under the belief
that they had seen the last of their chum, the good-natured Colon.
And Fred was right.
In a very short time one of the boys who were working Colon's arms like
the piston rods of a locomotive cried out:
"He moved a little then, fellows!"
"And listen to that, would you?" exclaimed another delighted chum, as
Colon plainly sighed.
In five minutes Colon recovered enough to be helped back to camp, where
he was rubbed down until his skin fairly glowed, and then hustled
between a pair of blankets, to rest, while the others dressed, and got
breakfast ready.
Colon had learned his lesson. He would never again persist in remaining
in ice-cold water when he was shivering, and his lips turning blue.
Nature has a way of sending up a warning sign, that every intelligent
fellow ought to heed.
That day passed all too soon, and another night arrived, the last they
expected to spend in camp up on the Mohunk. The following day the wagon
belonging to Judge Colon, an uncle of the tall boy, and put at the
service of the young campers, would come to "tote" all the stuff back
to town again, and some of the boys in the bargain.
Of course nine of them would go back, as they had come, in the boat.
And this time there was no need of any secrecy, so they could expect to
excite more or less curiosity when they shot past Mechanicsburg.
The mere thought inspired the boys with eagerness. In imagination they
could already see the wondering faces lining the bank, and the people
running to see as the word was passed hurriedly along that the new
eight-oared shell of the Riverport crew was sighted up the river.
They had become very careful now about the boat, which was growing more
valuable in their eyes every hour, as they developed its capabilities.
Catch any of them throwing torches around promiscuously now; no one
ever touched the fire so that the sparks flew, but half a dozen pairs
of anxious eyes followed the course they took, and speculation arose as
to the chances of their doing any damage.
During the morning another trial spin was taken, with Colon again in
his place, and pulling a strong oar. Brad and Fred both declared that
the crew was coming on famously, and would be able to give a good
account of themselves when the time arrived to meet their old rivals of
Mechanicsburg.
Along about three in the afternoon the wagon arrived. As the tents had
been taken down, and all the camp things well packed, it took but a
short time to load up. Then the wagon started, escorted by the eight
fellows who could not find places in the boat.
The crew gave them a cheer for a send-off, and received as loud a
salute in return. After which they took their places in the long,
narrow boat, for the run of seven miles down the river home.
Brad was keenly alive to every little thing that took place. Like a
wise coxswain he felt that he ought to know each man's weakness, if he
had any, so as to build him up into a perfect part of the whole
machine. For a boat crew must act as though it were one unit, at the
nod and whim of the fellow who sits in the stern, doing the steering,
and by his motions increasing or diminishing the stroke. If one cog
fails to work perfectly, the entire thing collapses.
"Fine! Great work, fellows!" Brad was saying again and again after they
had passed over a couple of miles down-stream. "You're doing yourselves
proud; and honest now, I believe you could take a little faster stroke.
We must be doing our prettiest when we spurt past Mechanicsburg."
Brad had just finished saying this when he received one of the
surprises of his life. His eyes were the only ones that could see down
the river, and as he happened to glance over toward the left bank,
where there was something of a neck of land shutting a large bay out of
sight, judge of his amazement when he discovered the pointed prow of a
racing boat thrusting out, and headed toward the middle of the river.
And as Brad sat there, almost petrified, as he afterwards declared, the
boat shot into view, containing a crew of eight, and a coxswain, in the
latter of whom he recognized Buck Lemington.