CHAPTER X
DESCRIBES AN AFTERNOON ON THE LAKE AND A GALLANT RESCUE
The Chicora was a trim-looking steam-launch, thirty feet in length, andwith a comfortable beam. And when she steamed away from the landing, atthree o’clock, she held sixteen boys, Mr. Clinton, Mr. Verder, and Mr.Thorpe. She was pretty well loaded, but there still remained room forseveral parents and relatives who were to be picked up at the Inn. Dan,Nelson, Tom, and Bob were perched on the tiny deck space aft of thecabin and looked very, very good. When Aunt Louisa appeared, lookingrather doubtful of the enterprise, she was conducted to a seat near-by.
“You needn’t tell me why you didn’t come to dinner,” she said at once.“I felt pretty certain you’d made yourself sick with that candy, andnow I’m sure of it. I never knew you to look like an angel, Tom, savewhen you were sick or getting well.”
Whereupon she was acquainted in whispers of the real reason of theirnon-appearance, and wouldn’t believe that “Mr. Hurry” had performedsuch a hazardous feat until, the launch having turned its nose acrossthe lake, the cliff came into sight and the staring blue letters werequietly pointed out to her.
“Well, I never!” she ejaculated. “If that wasn’t a clever thing to do!And a very wicked one!” she added quickly and disapprovingly.
“Scenery’s very pretty to-day,” remarked Carter, grinning at Dan. AndDan, with an apologetic glance at Aunt Louisa, kicked Carter good andhard. Mr. Clinton, busy at the engine, refused to hear. Neither did heshow that the offensive inscription on the cliff ahead of them was inexistence. Once headed down the lake the launch got the full effect ofthe waves, which, under a strong easterly wind, were kicking up quitea rumpus. Those in the bow received frequent wettings, and there was astruggle for places there. Aunt Louisa was quite certain she was goingto be seasick, and insisted cheerfully that, in such a contingency, shemust be set ashore at once, no matter where.
“I always say,” she announced, “that it’s a heap better to go ashore,even if it’s on a desert island, than stay in a boat and be sick. And Ido hope Mr. Clinton will keep near land, for seasickness does come onso suddenly!”
But the foot of the lake was reached without any signs of illness onher part other than a slight uneasiness, and when they had passed underthe bridge by the village and began to wind through the little river,even that was forgotten. In many places the trees almost swept theboat with their branches, and the channel was so narrow that the mostcareful steering was necessary. Half-way through to Hipp’s Pond therewas a shout from the fellows in the bow.
“Look at the duck!” they cried. Those aft struggled for a view. A smallduck, and evidently a young one, was bobbing up and down in the boat’swaves scarce three yards away. As they passed, it watched them withstaring, beady eyes, but made no move toward flight.
“Gee!” said Tom, his own eyes quite as starey as the duck’s, “if weonly had a gun!” Then the duck came alongside him and the temptationwas too great. With one hand on a stanchion, he leaned far out and madea wild grab. He didn’t get the duck he expected, but he got one kind;for he lost his balance and his hold simultaneously, and went overboardhead foremost with a mighty splash. Aunt Louisa gave a shriek of terrorand turned to Dan:
“Go after him, Hurry! Save him!”
“Yes’m,” answered Dan, with a grin. Then over he went just as theengine was stopped, and just as Tom came up sputtering some twentyyards away.
“Keep up!” called Dan. “I’ll save you!” And Aunt Louisa, watchinganxiously, couldn’t understand why the fellows laughed so uproariously.Tom, shaking his head to get the water from his eyes, turned andstarted toward the boat. But Dan wasn’t a life-saver for nothing.
“Don’t give up!” he called. “Fight hard! I’ll have you in a moment!”
“You ku-ku-ku-keep away from mu-mu-mu-me!” answered Tom.
“Saved!” shouted Dan, and then rescued and rescuer disappeared fromsight.
“Oh!” shrieked Aunt Louisa, “they’re both drowning!”
And every one else laughed harder than before.
Then up came Dan’s head, and up came Tom’s, and a merry struggle tookplace. Dan insisted on pulling Tom back to the launch by the back ofhis sweater, and Tom refused.
“Lu-lu-lu-let mu-mu-mu-me alone, you, i-i-i-idiot!” he protested.
“You shut up!” answered Dan. “I was asked to save you, and I’m goingto do it if I have to drown you.” He got a fresh grip on Tom and--downthey went again. In the end Mr. Clinton had to take a hand, otherwisethey might have been there yet. Tom, looking sheepish, was helped overthe side, and Dan pulled in after him. Aunt Louisa began a speech ofthanks to the latter, but Nelson, wiping the tears from his eyes, atlast found his voice.
“He didn’t do anything, ma’am,” he explained. “Tom can swim like afish; he’s the best swimmer in camp!”
“Do you mean to tell me,” she demanded, “that he wasn’t drowning?”
“No’m--yes’m--I mean he wasn’t.”
“Well!” she said vigorously, “well!” And she looked indignantly at Dan.But the hero looked so penitent that she said no more; besides, itwasn’t necessary, for Mr. Clinton was already reproving him for addingto the lady’s distress, and, even if his eyes twinkled a good deal,what he said was straight to the mark. Meanwhile the Chicora had takenup her voyage again. Tom and Dan removed their shoes and sweaters andhung them near the boiler to dry, and tried to bring warmth into theirchilled bodies by alternately turning faces and backs to the engine.The incident enlivened the party, and afterward the laughter was neverquite stilled. Coming back “Babe” Fowler, who had lived all his shortlife by the salt water, proclaimed himself awfully thirsty and wishedhe had a drink.
“Gee,” said a neighbor, “you must be awfully tony if you can’t drinkthis water!”
The changing expression of “Babe’s” face was worth seeing. Finally:
“Why, it’s fresh water, isn’t it?” he cried. “I was thinking it wassalt!” And thereupon he had his drink, and was unmercifully teased bythe fellows, one of whom recited, “Water, water everywhere, and not adrop for ‘Babe,’” all the way back to the landing.
The stay-at-homes were having their evening dip when the launch bumpedup to the pier, and the newcomers joined them in short order. Theguest-table was filled again at supper-time, and Aunt Louisa was oneof those who remained. After the meal was over Bob and Tom took herover to the village in one of the rowboats and got the Sunday mail. Thewind had died down, and the lake was a great limpid pool in which theafterglow was reflected in changing hues of steel and copper and dullgold. Half-way back the bugle’s summons floated down to them and wasechoed back from the farther shore. As they glided past Bear Island theboys of Wickasaw could be heard singing, and, although Tom pretended tothink such doings beneath contempt, he followed Bob’s example when thelatter rested on his oars.
“Oh, it’s perfectly heavenly!” exclaimed Aunt Louisa softly.
“Huh!” said Tom, “you wait till you hear Joe Carter sing ‘Bluebell’ onhis banjo!”
“That must be quite a stunt,” laughed Bob.
“Oh, well, you know what I mu-mu-mean. I’ll ask him to sing atcamp-fire. I’ll tell him you want to hear him, auntie.”
“But I don’t think--” began Aunt Louisa.
“Oh, he won’t mind; he likes to make a noise!”
And so, when the flames were leaping and dancing under the big trees,Joe produced his banjo and sang, and every one else helped him. And Mr.Thorpe got his guitar and sang rag-time melodies in a way that causedhalf his audience to laugh until the tears came, while the other half,composed of the visitors and the more sedate campers, showed a desireto shuffle their feet or clap their hands in time to the rollickingtunes. Then came prayers, and a trip down to the Inn landing, whereAunt Louisa said good-by, and invited each of Tom’s friends to visither in Boston. And as “Mr. Hurry” was included in that invitation it isprobable that Aunt Louisa had forgiven him for his too gallant rescue.
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