The Banner Boy Scouts on a Tour Part 22

"There's a bad current here, and if it gets hold of you grab a rock and yell. To be dashed down there wouldn't be the nicest thing going."

Jack agreed to keep an eye on the clump, for Paul had duties in camp just then. He expected to take a dip himself a little later on.

Hardly had ten minutes pa.s.sed before he heard a loud series of shouts.

"Hold hard, Tom! Make a chain there, you fellows, and get him before he lets go! Hurry up, can't you?"

It was Jack Stormways shouting these words. Paul knew instantly that some one must have been caught by the current, and was in danger of being dragged along down the stream to where it dashed wildly against the rocks.

The young patrol leader lost not an instant. s.n.a.t.c.hing up a rope that happened to lie handy, he rushed for the bank of the river.

Instinct caused him to head for a point below where Jack was standing, trying to reach some object with a long pole he handled awkwardly. Even in that thrilling moment Paul could think, and was able to understand that the ever flowing current must sweep any helpless swimmer past Jack's position in quick order.

As he ran Paul was trying to fashion a loop in the end of the rope. Had he not been perfectly calm he could never have succeeded in doing this difficult feat; but when he reached the bank he had managed to accomplish it.

What he saw was a tumble of water, which was almost covered with foam.

Somewhere in this poor Tom Betts must be floating, churned back and forth by the suction of the current that was striving to escape from the whirl.

Jack had evidently lost sight of the drowning lad completely, for he was even then running toward Paul, his face as white as chalk.

There! Paul had just a fleeting glimpse of the boy in the foamy water.

He had thrust one arm up rather feebly, as though almost gone. Perhaps his head had come in contact with a rock while he was swimming, and this had dazed him; for ordinarily Tom Betts was a clever swimmer.

Paul waited for no more. He was down the bank like a flash, and wading into the water, regardless of clothes. What did it matter about his getting wet, when a precious human life was in peril.

Again he caught a glimpse of the boy's arm amid all that spud and foam.

But the first attempt to throw the loop of his rope over it resulted in failure.

Paul instantly changed his tactics. Reversing the coil, he cast the loop over a friendly stump that chanced to be at hand; then, gripping the rope in his hand, he boldly cast himself into the midst of that whirl of froth and spinning water.

Fortune was kind, for almost immediately he came in contact with the unconscious lad, and was able to throw an arm about him. The fierce stream tried in vain to drag him down into other basins below; but Paul had his hand twisted in the coils of that rope, and would not let go.

"Hold on, Paul; we'll pull you in!" shouted Jack on the bank, as he clutched the lifeline and began to exert his full strength.

"Hurrah! Paul's got him! It's all right!" whooped others, as they lent a hand.

Of course Paul was quickly dragged into shallow water, where willing hands relieved him of his burden. Tom looked dreadful, being deathly white, and very limp. But Paul could not believe the boy had been under the water long enough to be drowned.

Immediately he had the others bring the senseless boy up to the camp, where he was placed on his chest. Kneeling down, with one leg on either side, Paul placed his palms on Tom's back just where the small ribs could be felt. Then by leaning forward, and pressing downward, he forced the air and water from the lungs of the patient; relaxing the movement allowed air to creep in a little, when the operation was repeated time and time again.

Sometimes it may take an hour to make this artificial respiration successful; so that it is not wise to desist until every hope is gone.

Many a person has been saved after it seemed next to a miracle that life might be restored.

With Tom it was not a difficult problem. He had been stunned by the blow received in his contact with the rock, and hence little water had entered his lungs.

In five minutes he was showing signs of coming to; his arms, extended above his head while this process of pumping air into him was being conducted, twitched and moved; then he groaned, and finally made a move as if he wanted to get up.

Ten minutes after being taken from the water he was sitting up, and asking what all the fuss was about.

Tom afterwards confessed to a dim recollection of feeling something hitting him a dull blow in the head; after that he knew nothing more until he opened his eyes to see his mates cl.u.s.tered around, and hear them give l.u.s.ty cheers.

But he heard how Paul had acted so wisely, and while Tom was a fellow not much given to words, at the first opportunity he thanked his friend with tears in his eyes; for he was thinking of a fond mother at home, and what a blow she must have received had he been drowned.

The boys cared little about indulging themselves in any more bathing in that treacherous portion of the fast-running Bushkill. Down around Stanhope they understood its various moods; but up in this Rattlesnake Mountain district it was quite a different thing.

Breakfast appealed more to them, and they went at it with a will. Tom was exempt from any menial labor on that morning. Warmly dressed, and placed close to the roaring fire, he watched his chums work, and thought what a splendid thing it was he had not been alone at the time the accident happened.

And Paul was more than glad it turned out so well. Had a tragedy come to pa.s.s, their joyous outing must have met with a sudden halt, and the return journey to Stanhope would have been a sad one indeed.

"What's the programme for to-day?" asked Jack, as they all sat around, eating the fine breakfast the patrol cooks had served.

"Another hike, and this time up the mountain," returned Paul. "It will be our last for a while, at least, for when we get settled in another camp I hope to stay there until our scoutmaster arrives."

"And when do you look for Mr. Gordon, Paul?" queried Wallace, who seemed to have lost his appet.i.te after seeing how near a companion had come to a terrible death.

"Any hour after this. He said he would use my wheel in coming up here, so as to make better time. I'll be glad when he comes," and Paul gave a sigh as he glanced around at the score of boyish faces turned toward him; to let his gaze rest finally on that of genial Tom Betts, whom he had known pretty much all his life.

Nor indeed could Paul be blamed for wishing to pa.s.s the responsibility on to broader shoulders, more capable of bearing it. He was only a boy, and it seemed to him that since he had been placed in charge of this expedition, with all its attendant cares and trials, his spirit had been almost crushed.

But the camp was broken, and with much laughter the scouts began to climb the side of mysterious old Rattlesnake Mountain, of course Paul managed to forget most of his troubles, and his merriment rang out as loud as that of any other.

So, boosting and pulling at old Dobbin, they made the ascent by slow degrees, and by noon had reached a point that afforded them a grand view of the country away off toward the south, the east and the west; but it was toward the first named region that many a wishful look was given, for did not Stanhope lie yonder--and home?

CHAPTER XIX

INDIAN PICTURE WRITING

"We'll never get that old horse any higher up than this, Paul," said Jud Elderkin.

The scouts were sitting there with that fine panorama spread out before them, and eating a sort of pick-up lunch. At breakfast time enough food had been prepared to carry them along for another meal. After that Paul had promised that they would very likely be in a permanent camp, and might expect to have decent fare right along.

"Fact of the matter is, Jud," replied the leader of the expedition, "we don't need to, fortunately."

"What's that, Paul; not going to camp right here, I hope?" questioned the scout leader of the second patrol.

Jud shot a swift look across the country down below, and Paul smiled when he saw the direction of the glance.

"I understand what you mean," he remarked, immediately. "You imagine that if we stayed here any length of time some of the tenderfeet would be running away."

"Oh! well," Jud went on to say, "what would be the use of tantalizing the poor chaps? Hear 'em disputing right now whether that shining thing they see far away in the distance is the bra.s.s hand on the top of the church steeple in Stanhope, or the wind vane on the court house cupola?

Anyhow, it stands for Stanhope; and if they were where they could stare out yonder by the hour some of 'em would skip before another night, I'm afraid."

"And you're just right, old fellow," Paul remarked. "I'm glad you noticed that sign, for we'd hate to have any desertions, now that we've made such a great start. But your other guess was away off. I haven't the slightest idea of holding over here."