The Shagganappi Part 3

"No, you don't," said the Indian, gripping him by the wrist. "You can't swim twenty yards--you know you can't; and if you get played out, Cop, I tell you right here that I can't stop to help you; I'm going to help Hal."

"Why can't you try it, Shorty?" roared Cop "Anything rather than let him go alone!"

But Shorty stood resolute. "I tell you I can't swim that far and back, and I ain't going to try it only to get drowned," he snarled; but even as he spoke there flashed past him a lithe, tan-colored body in skintight silken underwear; there followed a splash, and s.h.a.g's clean, dark face rose to the surface as he struck out towards the unfortunates.

The Professor was beside himself with horror. "Boys, boys!" he cried aloud, "Hal's going down! Something is wrong; he's sinking!" The words reached s.h.a.g's ears and he seemed to leap ahead like a giant fish.

"Heaven help them!" moaned poor Cop. "Oh, what an idiot I was never to practise more!"

"It's awful!" began Shorty.

"Don't you open your head!" shouted Cop; "if I could swim like you nothing would keep me ash.o.r.e."

"Never mind, boys," moaned Professor Warwick; "don't quarrel with this tragedy before us. Look, s.h.a.g's simply leaping ahead. There goes Hal again--that's the second time he's gone under! Oh, my boy!--my poor Hal!" and the little old man rushed wildly up to the servants' quarters for the cook and the pantry-boy and ropes--anything, everything that would hold out a hope of rescue.

And on against wind and current s.h.a.g battled his way; inch by inch, foot by foot, yard by yard he forged forward, until he saw Hal loose his grip and sink, and then rise and fight to reach the canoe again. It was then that s.h.a.g raised his chin and shouted hoa.r.s.ely, "Keep up, Hal, keep up! I'm coming!" the words that faintly reached Hal's ears before the silence and the dark came. Then as he rose from the depths, an unconscious, helpless hulk, a strong tan-colored arm wound around him like a lifebelt, and a well-nigh breathless boy, with almost superhuman strength, flung him, limp and nearly lifeless, across the canoe. The impact almost hurled Freddy from his slender hold, but for a few seconds the two boys were safe. Above the slippery bow poor s.h.a.g clasped his arms, allowing his body to drift.

With but this frail anchorage, he well knew that the canoe would never float them all. There was but little of her above the water. The waves were beating hard now; any moment weak little Freddy and unconscious Hal might be swept off. Once, as the fear of losing life gripped him, he began to struggle on to the canoe; then he remembered, and slipped back to float, to cling, to slowly--slowly--await the horrors of the unknown.

For five terrible minutes they drifted, minutes that were an eternity to those on sh.o.r.e, and to those fighting for life in mid-stream. Then around the bend of the island came the thin, shrill whistle of a steam launch as it headed directly for the upturned canoe, the skipper signalling to those on the island that he was hot on the way to the rescue.

Old Professor Warwick wept like a woman when he saw it fly past, and the boys gulped back their breath. They dared not even try to cheer; their voices were strangled in their throats.

"Just in time, and that's all, captain," said the engineer as he brought the launch about. "Better reach for the chap in the water first."

"No," s.h.a.g managed to say, "take the kiddie; he's slipping off. I'm good for a minute longer." So they lifted Freddy into the launch, then poor unconscious Hal, and lastly s.h.a.g, exhausted but gritty and game to the last.

Hal had been in his own bed for two hours before he spoke, and the first word he said was "Freddy?"

"Freddy's here," trembled Professor Warwick, "here safe and sound, and you're safe, too."

"I dreamt I heard s.h.a.g call, call that he was coming to me," said Hal feebly.

"It was no dream, Hal," answered the Professor; "he did call and went to you, saved you, swam out like the prince he is--saved you, Hal, saved you!" Hal started up, his eyes wild with fear.

"Where is he? Where's s.h.a.g?" he demanded.

"Here, Hal," said the Indian from the opposite side of the room.

Hal stretched out his hand; s.h.a.g walked very shakily across and clasped it within his own.

"If you hadn't been here, s.h.a.g, I could never have looked dad and mother in the face again," he sighed.

"But I am here," smiled s.h.a.g, "and, what is better, you're here and Freddy, too."

"Yes, but I know the reason that I'm here is that you somehow pulled me out," said Hal. "I had an idea once that Shorty might come, he swims so well; but you came, s.h.a.g!" Then he fell asleep; but s.h.a.g did not remove his hand, although the boy slept for hours.

Not long after this college opened for the autumn term, and Professor Warwick and his charges were well settled in residence before the old gentleman was obliged to acknowledge that Hal seemed unable to throw off the shock of the accident, or the chill that seemed to cling to him in spite of all care; but he tucked in bravely at his studies, and only the Professor knew that the boy was not his own self.

But a great event was now absorbing the attention of all the faculty and students. His Excellency Lord Mortimer was to visit the city, and had expressed his wish to spend an hour or two at this famous college for boys, so with much delight at the compliment paid, the entire school began to make preparations. A handsome address was prepared, and a programme of sports--for the Governor dearly loved athletic boys.

In fact gossip at the capital frequently stated that His Lordship would rather witness a good lacrosse match than eat a good dinner. Such a thing as voting as to who should represent the school and read the address was never even thought of. Hal Bennington was the head boy of the whole college, he was the most popular, the best beloved, he had not an enemy in all the scores of boys within its gates, so of course it was a foregone conclusion.

"I hate the idea of it," a.s.serted Hal. "I hate these public show-offs, besides, I don't feel well. I wish they would make some other chap do it." But neither masters nor boys would take no for an answer. Then disaster threatened, for a week before the event Hal fell really ill; a slow fever seemed to grip him, and if Sir George and Lady Bennington had not been already on the sea on their homeward way, Professor Warwick would have felt very much like cabling them. Hal was utterly disgusted when it was mentioned to him. "Don't you think of it," he growled.

"You've done as I wished about not telling them about that bally accident, and don't you hurry them home for me." So the boy was made to stay in bed, and, truth to tell, he was too ill to remonstrate much.

But the night before the viceregal visit Hal knew in his heart that he was too ill to go out and read the address. Late at night he sent for Professor Warwick, told him the truth, and asked him to get subst.i.tute.

"My boy, I am more distressed than I can say," began the Professor.

"Your illness is worse than any upsetting of arrangements; we are getting a trained nurse for you, and I shall relieve your mind of all worries. We have hardly time now to consult everyone about a subst.i.tute, but if I tell the boys you have appointed a deputy, so to speak, I think they will be satisfied."

"Then let s.h.a.g Larocque take my place," decided Hal instantly.

"Very appropriate, too, I should say," replied the Professor spontaneously. "Lord Mortimer has seen s.h.a.g and knows him; very appropriate."

So Hal slept that night contentedly, with never a dream of the storm that would burst on the morrow.

The first indication of the tempest was when Locke burst into his room after breakfast, with, "Hal, you _must_ be sick! Why, man alive, you are clean batty! s.h.a.g read that address--why, it is impossible!"

"And why?" said Hal, glaring at him.

"He can't do it; we won't let him; we won't have that Indian heading the whole school!"

"Who won't?"

"We! we! we!--Do you hear it? _We_!" yelled Locke.

"You and Shorty and Simpson and about two others, I suppose," answered Hal. "Well, he's going to read it; now, get out and shut the door--I feel a draft."

"Well, he isn't going to read it!" thundered Locke, banging the door after himself as he stormed down the hall to the cla.s.srooms, where the boys were collecting to arrange details for the day. Hal shivered back into the bedclothes, listening anxiously to various footsteps trailing past. He could occasionally catch fragments of conversation; everyone seemed to be in a high state of excitement. He could hear his own name, then s.h.a.g's, then Shorty's, and sometimes Locke's.

"I've evidently kicked up a hornets' nest," he smiled weakly to himself, too tired and ill to care whether the hornets stung or not. Presently Locke returned. "I tell you, Hal, it won't do; that Indian isn't a fit representative of this college."

"The masters won't do a thing; you've got to appoint someone else.

You're disgracing the college," said Shorty at the door. "We won't stand for it, Hal; this is no North-West Indian school. We won't have it, I tell you!"

"s.h.a.g's going to read that address!" said Hal, sitting up with an odd drawn but determined look around his mouth.

"Well, he isn't!" blurted Shorty. "There's a big meeting in the cla.s.sroom, and there's a row on--the biggest row you ever saw."

"s.h.a.g Larocque read that address!" yelled Simpson from the hall; "not if I know it! He's not a decent sport, even--he won't resent an insult.

I called him a Red River halfbreed and he never said a word--just swallowed it!"

"Shut that door!" shouted Hal, the color surging into his face, "and shut yourselves on the outside! Go to the cla.s.sroom, insult him all you like, but you'll be sorry for it--take my word for it!"

Once more they banged the door. No sooner was it closed than Hal sprang out of bed. His legs shook with weakness, his hands trembled with illness, but he began to get into some clothes, and his young face flushed scarlet and white in turn.

Out in the cla.s.sroom a perfect bedlam reigned. Dozens of voices shouted, "s.h.a.g's the man for us! Hurrah for s.h.a.g!" and dozens replied, "Who will join the anti-Indians? Who will vote for a white man to represent white men? This ain't an Indian school--get out with the Indians!"