Ethel Hollister's Second Summer as a Campfire Girl Part 6

Suddenly her mother wit came to the rescue. She slipped off her linen skirt. It was perfectly clean. With her strong teeth she tore into strips the front breadth.

"Hark!" she exclaimed. "Glory be to G.o.d! I think I hear running water."

She said it devoutly and in grat.i.tude, for now it was water that she needed. Taking Ethel's hat from the tree she started up the road where to her joy she beheld a watering trough that was fed by a little waterfall trickling down the side of the rocks.

After thoroughly washing the long linen strips so as to be sure that the starch was out of them she filled Ethel's hat with water and hurried back.

"Here, dearie," she said, "Let me wash your face. I brought the water in your hat," and with the balance of her skirt she washed the girl's face and then proceeded to tear open the sleeve, cleansing the wound with a fresh hatful of water. She did it carefully and thoroughly, with the skill of a surgeon. It was an ugly wound, but she bound the arm firmly with the strips.

"There now! So much for that," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Nora, rising and pushing back from her brow one curly lock that always insisted upon falling over her eyes.

"Oh, Honora! you are an angel," exclaimed Ethel, "and I have always been so unfriendly."

Nora appeared not to hear but went on:

"Can you stand, my dear?" she asked.

"No," sobbed the girl, "I guess my leg must be broken. However are we to reach Camp? Oh, Nora, for G.o.d's sake don't leave me. I should die of fright were you to do so, and the men may be hiding near even now. Don't go, I beseech. I know I am selfish and I've been unkind to you, but forgive me, Nora. I'll be your slave after this if only you'll stay with me. Don't go for help. Just stay here until I die," and the girl fell to sobbing.

"I'm cold," she murmured--"I'm so chilly, Nora," and she shivered.

Quickly Nora removed her heavy white sweater that she had just put on, and raising Ethel to a sitting posture she first put in her good arm.

Then she fastened the sweater about the girl's neck.

"There, dear, that will keep you warm, and I'll not be after leaving you--never fear--not if we stay together all night in these woods. But I must think how we can manage with you and your injuries. Faith it's raining and you may catch your death."

"And I have your sweater on, Nora!" exclaimed Ethel. "Oh, how selfish I am."

"Keep still," replied Nora. "I couldn't wear it now, for I'm going to try and carry you home."

For a moment Nora gazed tentatively at Ethel. Then suddenly there appeared a dawn of hope in her strong honest face.

"Miss Ethel, listen," she began. "When a child did ye ever play pig-a-back? Perhaps I might get you home that way."

"Yes, Nora. Papa always carried me up to bed that way," and the girl burst into tears.

"Ye mustn't cry," said Nora. "If ye do I shan't be able to carry ye. Now wipe your pretty eyes and help me carry ye as Papa used to. Forget your pain and try to be patient, for, Ethel, we must reach camp some way.

Doubtless they are searching for us even now, but this is a side road far from the main one. They'll never think to look here, nor could they hear us were we of call. And then those men you spoke of. They may be near.

There's no time to lose. Get on my back and cling for dear life."

Nora had great sense. She realized that until she had thoroughly frightened Ethel she would not exert herself and forget her pain. Then, too, if what she had told her were true, the men might really be lying in wait to capture the supposed wealthy New York girl.

Sitting on the ground with her back before Ethel she first gently raised the wounded arm, bringing the other one around to meet it. Thanks to the low branch of a tree and to Nora's recent physical culture exercises, making an almost superhuman effort she arose with her burden on her back. Then grasping the girl's knees she held them firmly, thereby supporting her injured leg, and started for the road, stopping now and then by a fence or stone to take breath and rest. On and on in that failing light she bravely walked.

As she descended the hill she seemed to have gained new strength. Now and then she'd speak cheering words to the wounded girl, trying to encourage her to bear her pain. The rain pelted in Honora's face, often blinding her. The thunder rolled and the lightning played, but she showed no sign of faltering. Onward she went, even faster.

Soon to her joy she beheld the main road, and after a few more rods a light from the Camp Fire.

"Shure," she thought, "now I know why men in olden times looked for the fire from their camps. It does cheer a body and give them new life."

She was ready to drop when she reached Camp. Ethel was no light weight.

While in Camp she had gained, and now she weighed nearly a hundred and thirty-seven pounds. As Nora neared home she saw parties of men about to start on searching tours. They had sent word by Mr. Adams to Harvey, and there he and his patrol stood ready to start. Uncle John with the second party were there as well. In some way the horse had escaped from the two men and had returned to Camp, but without Ethel. Then they knew that she had been thrown. And as for Nora, something dreadful must have happened to her, for Nora was so strong and self-reliant.

A shout rent the air when they beheld Nora Casey drenched to the skin, hatless, coatless, with nearly all of her skirt missing, and carrying on her back a hysterical, shrieking girl, while with no apparent effort she walked steadily towards them. Harvery Bigelow's admiration for one so strong and courageous showed itself on every line of his face.

Uncle John took Ethel from Nora and laid her on the Camp bed that had been brought from the tent.

"By Jove!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Harvey as he examined Ethel's ankle and p.r.o.nounced it a compound fracture, "you're all right, Miss Casey, first to staunch the blood and bandage her arm, and second to bind her ankle in such a surgeon-like manner, say nothing of carrying her on your back for over a mile and a half and holding her leg so that you saved her pain. I take off my hat to you, Miss Casey. You have the nerve and strength of a man."

"I don't see," said Uncle John, "how in the name of heaven you managed to raise her, wounded as she was, upon your back--let alone bringing her through the pouring rain a dark night like this. Why! it's been a regular thunder shower. I'm glad that her mother knows nothing of it."

Nora sighed. She was very tired. Miss Kate came forward and put her arm around her.

"My dear, you are an honor to the Camp Fires. We owe a vote of thanks to this brave girl," and taking Nora's face between her hands she kissed her affectionately.

"I've done nothing wonderful," replied Nora simply, taking her sweater from Patty Sands. "Luckily I heard her moan and found her. I couldn't go away and leave her helpless and alone in a blinding storm, and two men waiting to seize her." Then she told Ethel's story of the conversation that she had overheard.

"Nor could we stay in the woods over night alone."

A buckboard appeared and Mrs. Hollister jumped out. She had heard of the accident through Mr. Adams and had made him bring her up.

After seeing Ethel for a few moments she rushed out and threw her arms about Nora.

"You are a dear brave girl," she sobbed, kissing her. "You have saved Ethel's life. Never while I live shall I forget it."

"Nor I," broke in Uncle John, grasping the hands of the girl. "Miss Nora, you're a fine young woman and you're father has cause to be proud of his daughter."

"Miss Nora," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Harvey, "allow me to congratulate you. You're a dead game sport," and he wrung her hands heartily, after which Teddy Kip grasped her by the arm saying:

"Why, Miss Casey, you're a regular Scout--you are, and no mistake."

Nora smiled faintly.

"Thank you all," she said. "I am very tired. I think I shall go to bed.

Good night."

CHAPTER X

A HEROINE

So Nora Casey became the heroine of the Camp. An account of her bravery was in all the papers and the entire Camp was written up. The once neglected and disliked girl was now in a fair way to be spoiled. But Nora could not be spoiled. She was too sensible.

"I say, Miss Nora," exclaimed Harvey the next day, "I don't think I'd dare marry a woman with your strength. You'd put me to shame."

Nora laughed good naturedly.