RELATES THE CONCLUSION OF THE TRIP AND WHAT HAPPENED AT CAMP
Half an hour afterward Nelson passed along the gallery and down
the stairs into the arms of Tom, who hugged him ecstatically and
stuttered his delight; and of Bob, who, if less demonstrative, showed
his pleasure none the less plainly. Mr. Merrill shook hands in a way
that brought the color into Nelson’s cheeks, and the ladies when they
appeared a few moments later were so attentive that Nelson’s blushes
threatened to become permanent. When they were seated at table only Dan
was absent, and Nelson asked if he was not coming down.
“No,” answered Mr. Carey. “The fact is, your friend had a pretty
narrow call. It took us all of half an hour to bring him around. He
had swallowed about a gallon of lake water and had played himself out
pretty well besides. But he’s all right now, and I’m only waiting for
the doctor to come over before I let him up. ‘Orders is orders,’ you
know. But of course you can go up and see him whenever you like. He’s
asked for you once or twice already.”
Nelson wanted to go then and there, but consideration for his hosts led
him to await the end of the meal. There were a great many questions
to answer, and he had to tell his side of the adventure from start to
finish. Then Mr. Carey and Bob began comparing notes, and pretty soon
Nelson had a very good idea of what had happened.
“After I got back here to the house I began to worry about you chaps,”
said Mr. Carey, “and pretty soon I took the field-glasses and went down
to the pier. From there I could see you pretty well, but those canoes
looked mighty small, just the same! I happened to have the glasses on
the nearest canoe when the accident happened. I saw Speede stand up
and then stumble and go over. The glasses made it look so near that I
yelled like sixty. Then when I’d found the place again the canoe was
drifting along bottom upward and there were two fellows in the water.
Well, I knew they’d never make the canoe in that wind, so I shouted for
Mr. Merrill here and Barry, my skipper, and we had the skiff out in no
time. But it was a long ways out to where you were, and I thought we’d
never get there. And when we did get alongside I thought we were too
late. Two deader-looking live men I never saw in my life! The waves
were washing all over you two, Tilford, and you seemed on the point
of sinking. But you had hold of Speede good and hard; it was all we
could do to loosen your grasp on his arm, and I guess he’ll have a
black-and-blue bracelet there for some time. Hethington and Ferris got
there in the canoe a moment later and helped us get you two into the
boat. From the looks of them I guess they’d done some tall paddling.”
“We did,” said Bob grimly. “It was Tommy who discovered you had gone.
He looked around when we were pretty near land and let out a yell. Then
we turned the canoe and started back. It was like pulling yourself up
by your shoe-straps. The wind was almost on our quarter and we could
just see that we were moving. Tommy paddled like an Indian. And all
the time he kept yelling to me to hurry up, just as though I wasn’t
breaking my back at every stroke! As it was, though, he pulled me
around several times; I was in the bow. I thought we’d never get to the
canoe; we could see it now and then over the waves; and when we did we
found you two weren’t there, and had to start off on another course.”
“Tommy was like a crazy man; kept crying that you were both drowned
and that it was our fault for leaving you. And I was--was pretty well
worried myself. Then we saw Mr. Carey’s boat, though we didn’t know
then who was in it, and we made toward it, and pretty soon we saw you
two chaps floating around in the water like a couple of logs. And Tommy
was for jumping over and swimming to you. Nel, you certainly had the
pluck. If it hadn’t been for you Dan would have drowned before we could
have turned around or Mr. Carey could have started out there.”
“But I don’t understand about Dan,” said Nelson. “He can swim like a
fish. I never thought that anything was the matter with him until I
looked back and couldn’t see him.”
“Cramps,” said Mr. Carey. “He told me this morning that he couldn’t
seem to move himself below the waist. He got pretty warm paddling, I
suppose, and then when he went overboard the shock was too intense. He
had a close shave of it, and he owes his life to you, Tilford.”
“And we both owe our lives to you, sir. If you’ll excuse me I’d like to
go up and see him a minute.”
“Certainly,” said Mrs. Carey. “I’ll see that cook keeps some waffles
hot for you.”
“He’s in the room next to yours, further along the gallery,” said her
husband.
Nelson didn’t knock because he thought Dan might be asleep and he
didn’t want to wake him. But when he had cautiously opened the door and
peeked in he saw Dan sitting up in bed and smiling broadly at him.
“Hello, Life Saver!” called Dan.
Nelson bounded across and seized his hand.
“Dan, are you all right?” he asked eagerly. “Gee, I’m glad to see you,
you old chump!”
“I’m feeling right as a trivet. What’s a trivet, anyway, Nel?”
“Oh, a thingumbob with three legs,” laughed Nelson.
“Well, I’m glad I wasn’t one of them yesterday. Two legs were all I
wanted. They ached like thunder and I couldn’t swim a stroke. Nel, you
saved my life, and----”
“Cut it out! If any one says anything more about saving lives,
I’ll--I’ll hurt them!”
“I dare say it is a bore,” answered Dan soberly, “having folks talk
about it, but I want you to know that--that I’m mighty grateful, old
fellow, and that if the chance ever comes for me to even things up,
why, you can count on your Uncle Daniel. It was a swell thing to do,
Nel, stand by me like that, only I wasn’t worth it and you might have
got drowned yourself. That’s all. I won’t bother you with any more
thanks, only--only--” Dan’s hand found Nelson’s on the coverlid and
squeezed it until Nelson winced. Then: “Where’s that fussy old doctor?”
he asked. Nelson, relieved at the change of subject, laughed.
“He will be along pretty soon. If you’re all right he’s going to let
you get up. Then we can get the afternoon train back.”
“Of course I’m all right; right as a three-legged thingumbob. Say,
won’t Clint be waxy? He’ll never let us out of his sight again.”
“I suppose he’ll have to be told?” said Nelson ruefully.
“I guess so; it’s up to us to tell him, Nel. Not that I want to, you
know, but--well, it’s more honest.”
“That’s so; I guess we’d better. Say, Dan, these Careys have been
mighty good. We’d ought to do something for them. Do you think we
could?”
“I’d like to, but I don’t see what we could do. We’ll have to think it
over. Maybe Bob can suggest something. He’s got a heap of sense, that
chap.”
Then Mr. Carey and the doctor came in and Nelson left the room. Dan
was pronounced able to travel, and at two o’clock, after thanking the
ladies and promising to come again when they could, they loaded their
canoes on to the steam-yacht--the overturned craft had been recovered
the evening before--and, with Mr. Carey and Mr. Merrill accompanying,
were taken over to The Weirs in time to catch the afternoon train for
Warder. At the landing more good-bys were said.
“I want you boys to promise to come and visit us here some time, this
year if you can; if not, next. And when you’re in New York look us up.
Both Mrs. Carey and I will be delighted to have you. We feel a sort of
proprietary interest in you after yesterday’s little incident and don’t
want to lose sight of you completely. I’ve written a line or two to Mr.
Clinton, so I guess you won’t get lectured very hard. Good-by and good
luck, boys!” And Mr. Carey shook hands all around, was followed by Mr.
Merrill and the skipper, and at last the train pulled out, the Four
waving from the car steps until the crowded platform was a speck in the
distance.
“He’s a swell fellow,” said Dan, as they sought their seats. “And we’ve
got to make him a present or something.”
“Good scheme,” said Bob heartily. And they talked it over most of the
way up to Warder, and finally decided that a silver loving cup with a
suitable inscription would be as appropriate as anything they could
afford.
“We’ll put her name on it too,” said Tom.
“Mrs. Carey’s?” asked Bob. “You bet we will!”
“Sure!” said Nelson. “I’ll never forget that beef broth she fed me!”
They caught the five o’clock launch, as they had planned, and climbed
the hill to camp just as the last supper-call was blowing.
“That sounds good,” muttered Dan. “It’s like getting home.”
When they entered Poplar Hall and sought their seats at the tables it
was at once evident that the news of yesterday’s escapade had preceded
them. Such a hand-clapping and cheering as burst forth was quite
disconcerting, and Nelson, at whom the most of it was directed, poured
milk into his bowl of cereal until it overflowed and ran into his lap.
After supper the Four were mobbed and made to give a public recital of
events; but long before Bob, to whom the task of narration fell, had
finished they were summoned to the office. After all, it wasn’t so bad.
Mr. Clinton had some forcible things to say to Dan on the subject of
standing up in a canoe during a wind, but after that he demanded the
story and became so interested that they began to take courage. And
afterward he complimented Nelson and shook hands with him.
“It was a bad business,” he said gravely, “but it’s happily over with,
and there’s no use denying that you all acted in a sensible, plucky
way. I’ve had a letter from this Mr. Carey in which he begs me to
go easy with you. I don’t think I should have been very hard on you
anyhow. It was an accident arising from a piece of foolhardiness that
none of you are likely to repeat. It will probably be worth all it has
cost as a lesson to you. It is a good thing to learn the limitations of
a canoe. You’d better get to bed early to-night, all of you, and I’ll
ask Doctor Smith to have a look at you, Speede, and see if you need any
medicine. Good night.”
“Good night, sir,” they chorused. And outside they heaved sighs of
relief.
“I think,” said Dan thoughtfully, as they picked their way across the
darkening clearing toward Birch Hall, “I think it’s about up to us to
settle down and be good for a while.”