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  CHAPTER XIV

  _In which Clarence tells his story and gets the Reverend Rector to take a hand against the Bright-eyed Goddess._

  “Suppose,” suggested the College President, as Clarence with a sigh ofsatisfaction came to an end of his meal, “you tell us your story.”

  “It is a long one.”

  “Wait till I come back,” implored the Infirmarian. “I want to hear it.I’ve been infirmarian in boarding college a great many years, but I’venever yet seen any sick boy quite so healthy and with such an appetiteas Clarence.”

  “Thank you for the compliment, Brother. I often feel like apologizingfor that appetite of mine.”

  “Clarence,” said the Rector as the Infirmarian went off with the emptydishes, “have you any relations, besides your father and mother,living?”

  “Just stacks of them, sir.”

  “Where are they?”

  “There are some in England; a lot of them, on my mother’s side, inIreland—and oh, yes, I’ve a cousin and his family in New York.”

  “Do you know the address of any of them?”

  “I really don’t. You know I’ve been at Clermont Academy, a boardingschool in New York State, since I was eleven, and I’ve lost track of allof them pretty much.”

  “What about your cousin in New York City?”

  “I do not even know where he lives. You see, he just came to thiscountry from Ireland a month ago. He brought his family along, and theywere still looking for a house when I last saw them three weeks ago.”

  “Anyhow, they’re in New York City?”

  “I think that’s pretty certain.”

  “Very good,” said the Rector, taking out a small memorandum book andmaking a note.

  “Well, let’s have that story,” cried the big Infirmarian, as here-entered. He was eager as a small boy waiting his turn for the pie tocome down the table.

  Clarence began with his departure from McGregor, the climb up and beyondPictured Rocks, his long ride on the river, his encounter with thegypsies, his friendship for Ben, his long talks and walks with Dora, histroubles with Pete and his shrewish wife, his frequent swims in theriver.

  “And,” he continued, “when I made up my mind to get away somehow orother, I was hard as nails; I could swim for any length of time, itseemed to me, without losing my wind or my strength; and I could eatlike a horse.”

  “We all know that,” said the Infirmarian.

  “And how did you manage to escape?”

  “It came about just the way I wanted. Yesterday afternoon we pitchedcamp at a place right opposite a long island. I went in swimming andbegan to brag purposely to Ezra about what I could do. I let him knowthat I thought I could beat him. As a matter of fact, I really think Ican. Ezra bit. He challenged me to race him to the island. That was justwhat I wanted. The old hag, Pete’s wife, came over and cursed me, justbefore Ben gave us the signal to go. But I didn’t mind that. Curses,like chickens, come home to roost, you know.

  “Well, at Ben’s word we plunged into the water, and I kept under till Ithought I’d burst. When I came up, I was some distance down stream; andall the way over I kept drifting down. Of course, it looked as if itwere not done on purpose—at least I think it did. By the time Ezra waswithin a few yards of the island almost straight across from where hehad started, I was away down near the end of the island, almost or quitehalf a mile away. Then I began to pretend I was trying to swim upstreamand couldn’t do it. When within five yards or so of the very end of theisland where there were lots of willows and bushes, I started tosplashing wildly as though I had lost my head. I turned towards theshore, gave one last look, and shouted, ‘Help! help!’ I’ll never forgetwhat I saw in that moment. In front of the tent, Pete’s wife wasstanding with her hands—clawlike old talons—stretched out, palms down,as though she were trying to force me under water; near the edge of theriver, Dora, in her white dress, was kneeling, and I could guess she waspraying for me.”

  Clarence paused a moment.

  “Do you know,” he said gravely, “I feel now as I felt all last night, asthough her prayers kept with me like an army of little angels. Tennysonsays, ‘More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of.’ Iknew the line over a year ago. Now I know the meaning. Anyhow, aftergiving that yell for help, I let myself sink and then, under the water,I got to those willows which I forgot to tell you were partly underwater. It seemed to me as I felt my way from trunk to trunk that I’dexplode if I didn’t get air. I’ve stayed under water many a time; but Inever stayed under so long before. When I did come to the surface, Icame up cautiously, came face upward, so as to get just my eyes, mymouth, and, because I couldn’t help it, my nose out of water. It was allright. Between me and the gypsies was that clump of willows and I was ina little bay surrounded on three sides by trees and bushes. I lay on myback just long enough to get my breath, and kicked myself down till Icame near the end of the inlet. Then I took a deep breath, and dived soas to get out beyond the island in the main current. The dive was asuccess. When I came up, I lay on my back with only my nose sticking outof the water and let the current carry me along until it grew dark.”

  “What were the gypsies doing?” asked the Brother Infirmarian.

  “I don’t know. I suppose they took it for granted I was drowned. Yousee, I wasn’t such a bad actor, and I did my part all right; andbesides, they are very superstitious and believe that Pete’s wife hasall kinds of power. She told them I was to drown, and that made itdoubly certain to them. From what I know of them, I guess Ben came overand searched for my body half the night.”

  “And what did you do when the dark came on?” asked the Rector.

  “I reversed myself and began swimming. After a while I got awful chilly;so I went to the bank and went through all sorts of Delsarte movementsto get warm. This took me from fifteen minutes to half an hour. Then Iwent in again and swam and floated till I felt I was freezing. I took tothe shore again, and ran and jumped as long as I could, and that’s theway it went on the whole night. It was the longest night ever. Everyminute got me hungrier and chillier. I didn’t notice the hunger so much;but it seems to me that I’d never, never be warm again. Oh, wasn’t Iglad when the dawn came, and didn’t I pray for a hot sun. When the sundid rise, I saw that I was getting near a big town, and I looked aboutfor some place to land. Somehow, I couldn’t quite make up my mind.”

  “Why not?” asked the Rector.

  “I didn’t like the way I was dressed. Bathing suits are all right forthe water, but for company—I may be all sorts of an idiot, but I’m notas nervy as the average summer girl. No decent boy is.”

  “Oh, Lord!” gasped the Rector.

  “I beg your pardon, sir?”

  “Go on, my boy.”

  “Well, I got past the city which, I saw on a sign at a boat landing, wasPrairie du Chien, and—no, not quite past. A little after swimming underthe bridge, I saw a building—a great big building that looked like acollege. It was just beyond the railroad tracks, and it had a beautifulgrove of trees just below the building itself. Right on the shore was alot of weeds that had been cut and been lying there long enough to dry.There was nobody in sight, and so I slipped ashore and covered myself upin the weeds, and tried to get warm. I was there a long time; and it wasa long time before I began to get anyways warm. Oh, it was deliciousthat feeling of warmth coming back slowly but surely. Really, I’d havegone to sleep, only something else began to go wrong.”

  “Did the jiggers get you?” asked the Brother.

  “No; it wasn’t ants or jiggers or bugs of any kind. It was my little‘tummy.’ The warmer I got, the hungrier I got. If I had a thousanddollars then, I’d have handed it over gladly for a hunk of bread. Aftera while, I forgot I had ever been cold, but I was famishing. So I threwoff the weeds, put on my bathing suit, and started for that building. Iwas afraid of my life of being seen by women-folks, so I crawled andwalked and crawled. It was slow work. Well, anyhow, I got to the f
enceleading into those grounds and was just climbing over when down from thebuilding came running and dancing a whole raft of little girls!”

  “You struck St. Mary’s Academy, a boarding school for girls,” said theBrother, sympathetically. The Rector’s face was buried in hishandkerchief. He was not weeping.

  “One little devil—Oh, excuse me—one little double-pigtailed,blue-ribboned thing in the lead saw me and let out a yell. That got megoing, and I jumped off that fence and sprinted for the river at therate of one hundred yards in 9-4/5 seconds—at least, that’s what Ithought I was doing, and the screams of all those girls behind me helpedme to keep up my clip to the end. I’m sure they thought I was aburglar.”

  “Anyhow,” said the Rector consolingly, “they won’t know you again.”

  “I should say not. After this I intend paying visits in regulationcostume. Well, then, I got into the river, clean blown. I was too tiredto swim; so I just lay on my back, and paddled now and then with myfeet. The cold got me again in a few minutes; my teeth began to chatter.Oh, it was awful. And then—then I swam and afterward began to lose allfeeling, and then I lost consciousness and—I got here.”

  “Oh, most lame and impotent conclusion,” said the Rector eyeing the boysharply. “You’ve left something out.”

  “So I have, Father, but I don’t think I have any right to tell the lastpart.”

  The Rector looked puzzled.

  “Very well,” he said presently. “Even as it is, it is a wonderful story.In fact, it’s a twentieth century romance. What was the last name ofthat child Dora?”

  “Well, I declare!” said the youth. “It never occurred to me to think shehad another name. All I know is that she came from near Dayton, Ohio.Oh, what an ass I am.”

  “You might sing that opinion of yourself to the air of ‘My Country, ’tisof Thee,’” suggested the Infirmarian. “We call it the Siamese nationalhymn.” And he warbled slowly and solemnly to the well-known nationalair, the words, “O Vatana Siam.” “It will do you lots of good when youfeel rather foolish.”

  Just then, and while Master Clarence began assuring himself in liquidnotes of what an awful ass he was, there came a timid knock at the door.

  “Come in,” cried the Infirmarian.

  “Is Father Rector in there?” came a much agitated voice, as the dooropened a few inches without revealing who was without.

  “Excuse me,” said the Rector, leaving the two to sing as a duet “OVatana Siam.” Every note of it and the entire sentiment filled Clarencewith pure joy.

  Despite their long drawn and pathetic warbling, the two within caughtthe sounds of earnest voices without. After singing the air with theself-same words nearly a dozen times, and coming at length to theinvariable ending “_Vatana Siam_” in the enunciation of which Clarencesucceeded in outdoing all his previous efforts, the door suddenlyopened, and the Rector entered, bringing with him, very red and veryconfused, Master John Rieler.

  “Behold!” he cried, “your preserver, Clarence!”

  “Whoop!” cried the singer, jumping forward and almost throwing himselfinto Rieler’s arms. “You’ve told on yourself, have you?”

  “I had to,” said John, shaking Clarence’s two hands. “When I got back toclass I began to worry. It wasn’t the going out of bounds, and it wasn’tthe swim. I guess that finding of you in the water got on my nerves. Iwasn’t scared at the time; but the more I got thinking of it afterwards,the more scared I got. It seemed so odd. And then I had a lot to explainto the teacher, and I couldn’t do it. Anyhow, I couldn’t eat anysupper.”

  “Oh, I say!” protested the Infirmarian, who happened to be wellacquainted with Master Rieler’s efficiency as a trencherman.

  “It’s so, all the same. Honest to goodness!” protested the youth, hiseyes and features expressing depths of astonishment at himself. “I justactually couldn’t eat.” He paused a minute and added wistfully. “I couldnow.”

  The Rector had put on his face of Indian immobility.

  “John Rieler,” he said gravely, “there are two things to be consideredin your conduct this morning. First, there is your going out of boundsand taking a swim without permission. Secondly, there’s your savingClarence Esmond from drowning. For the first, you are to be punished.”

  “Father Rector,” protested John earnestly. “I’ll not do it again. I’llnever jump bounds any more this year. I missed Holy Communion thismorning, and it was a mistake. Right after supper, only a few minutesago, I went to Confession, and I hope I’ll never miss a single day’sCommunion till further notice.”

  “Your punishment,” continued the Rector slowly and impressively—

  “Oh, Father,” broke in Clarence in great alarm.

  “Your punishment,” repeated the Rector, looking severely at Clarence,“will be not to go in swimming on any account, on any pretext, with orwithout companions, from the first of December till the first of April.”

  “All right, Father,” said John, humbly. He was filled with a sense ofthe terrible penalty exacted of him till he noticed Clarence’s ecstaticgrin. Then his mind fell to considering the dates, and he grinned also.

  “As for saving Clarence’s life,” the Rector went on, “I don’t see wellhow I can reward you properly.”

  “I’m worth one thousand dollars, cold,” said Clarence.

  “Exactly,” said the Rector, “and the fact of your being alive does notdepreciate your value entirely.”

  “No, not entirely,” assented the Brother, as though yielding a point.

  “Anyhow, I should like to reward you, John. Now, is there anythingoccurs to you I can do for you?”

  “I’m awful hungry,” said John modestly.

  “Appetite,” observed the Rector, “waits on a good confession. Brother,can’t you set this boy up to something extra?”

  “Beefsteak and onions, cornbread, buttered toast?” cried the Infirmarianinterrogatively.

  Master Rieler had no need to express himself in words. His face showedglad assent.

  “Come and join me, Clarence,” begged the hero of the day as he seatedhimself later to the “spread.”

  “Thank you; I’ve had a good meal already,” answered Clarence, “but I’lltake just a little to keep you company.”

  His taking “a little” had such an effect upon the Infirmarian that afterwatching Clarence’s performance for a few minutes he could no longercontain himself.

  “Look here, Clarence! If you go on, you’ll swell up and bust.”

  “I’m not swelling so’s I can notice it,” returned Clarence cheerfully.

  Before leaving, Father Rector said:

  “Now, boys, I’m going to my room, and when you have finished yoursupper, I want you, John, to bring Clarence to see me. You will wait forhim outside my door. Then I’m going to see the Prefect of Discipline andhave you excused from studies tonight, so you can show Clarence around.”

  There came a babble of enthusiasm from both boys.

  “And besides, while Clarence is our guest, you, John Rieler, are to behis host.”

  “Oh, thank you, Father,” said John.

  “Do you mean to say, Father Rector, that I may stay here tonight?” askedClarence.

  “Yes, my boy”—here the Rector’s voice and face, despite himself, gavehint of a great pity; “you are to be my guest till we’ve got everythingfixed to see that you are placed in proper care.”

  “Isn’t he a trump!” cried Clarence as the Rector left.

  “Trump! I should say he is.”

  When Clarence was ushered by the proud young host to the Rector’s room,he was bade to sit down.

  “Well, Clarence, while you were sleeping, I was quite busy on your case.The hotel-man from McGregor was here and identified you.”

  “Yes?”

  “Yes, and I’ve sent out for all sorts of information.”

  “But, why don’t you wire my father?”

  “The trouble is, Clarence, we don’t know where he is.”

  “He’s
at the Metropole Hotel, Los Angeles,” said Clarence. “Thehotel-man could have told you that.”

  “No, Clarence,” said the Rector trying to speak casually, “the train didnot get there yet.”

  “Was it delayed?”

  “Yes. In fact, there was a bad wreck. Some of the cars tumbled into thewater.”

  “And did anything happen to my mother and father?”

  “I hope not. The only thing, my boy, we know is that they are missing.Anyhow, they are not listed among the injured or the dead. Here, sitdown and look over this account in the paper.”

  The Rector discreetly placed himself in such a position that he couldnot see the boy’s face. Clarence read, and after a few lines could notgo on; tears blinded his eyes. For ten minutes, while the Rector busiedhimself writing letters, the boy wept, although making pretense ofreading.

  “This is awful, Father,” Clarence at length said.

  “Have hope, Clarence. God has taken wonderful care of you today.”

  “Indeed, He has.”

  “Trust Him, and keep on hoping. As to all details, leave them to me. Ifthere’s anything to be found out, I’ll get hold of it. In the meantime,you are the guest of Campion College. Here’s some change—pocket money.You know, you’ll have to treat John Rieler. And tomorrow you’ll befitted out with what clothes you need. God bless you, my boy.”

  “Father, you’re too good. Say, won’t you bless me—give me a priest’sblessing—the kind I’ve read about in books.”

  “Certainly, Clarence.”

  The boy fell on his knees, and over him stretched the Rector’s hands ina fervent benediction.

  As Clarence went down the stairs with John, he said: “Say, John Rieler,I got some bad news and I felt sick all over. And do you know whathappened? The Rector blessed me, and now I could stand anything.”