Under Boy Scout Colors Part 13

Frank shuddered and dug his teeth into his under lip. For the matter of that, he himself was almost as helpless. With a sick, sinking pang it was borne in on him that the few halting strokes he had learned to take in smooth water last summer would be next to useless in an emergency like this. But he did not pause nor lessen his speed. He only knew that he could not hesitate, with that anguished face and those clutching hands to spur him on.

"Hold on a minute longer, Paul!" he cried, when he was within twenty feet of the hole. "Don't let go. I--I'll--get you out!"

Jerking at the lever of his skates, he kicked them off. The hockey-stick was still in his grasp, and, with this outstretched, he flung himself flat on the ice and wriggled forward. He paid no heed to the ominous cracking beneath him; there was no time for caution. Trexler had lost the slight grip he had had on the crumbling edges of the hole and was beating the water madly with his hands. His eyes, wild with despairing horror, were fixed on Frank with a desperate pleading that made the boy oblivious to everything save the vital need of haste.

With a sharp thrust of both feet, he pushed himself forward. The stick slid over the jagged edges of the hole and straight into the groping hands that closed over and hung upon it with the tenacious grip that knows no reason.

"Don't jerk it!" cried Sanson, sharply, as the ice creaked and cracked beneath him. "Just hold tight and let me draw you in."

But Trexler was too far gone to heed. There came another crack more ominous than the others. Even now, by letting go the stick, Frank could have escaped by rolling swiftly to one side or the other. He wanted to--desperately; but something within him stronger even than his fear clenched his fingers around the tape-wound hickory.

In another second the ice on which he lay gave with a crash and plunged him into the icy water.

CHAPTER XV

THE RESCUE

As he went under, Sanson's first feeling was one of utter panic. The shock and cold, above all the horrible sense of suffocation, started him struggling as madly and ineffectually as Trexler had done a moment before. Then all at once, out of the whirling turmoil of fear which filled his soul, some vague remembrance of the brief lessons last summer stood forth, and he thrust downward with his feet. The motion was almost entirely instinctive, but the result was curiously steadying. The moment that downward movement ceased, his brain seemed to clear and he got a grip on himself.

"I mustn't come up under the ice," he found himself thinking, as he pushed vigorously upward again.

Then his head cleaved the water and he gulped in the blessed air in long, deep breaths. An instant later this was cut off by the grip of arms about his neck as Trexler, whom he had momentarily forgotten, clutched at him with all the strength and determination of despair.

That there were approved methods of releasing such grips Frank knew from repeated perusals of the scout handbook, but not a vestige of them stuck in his mind now. Full of wild panic, he struck out blindly with all his power. Trexler's head went back under the impact; his grasp slackened. Sanson had a momentary glimpse of the white face with half-closed eyes and twisted lips all a-swirl with water, and again that impulse that was stronger than panic made him reach out and catch hold of the boy's shoulder. At almost the same instant something hard grazed his cheek, and he realized that the force of his blow had sent him against one side of the hole. With a grasp of thankfulness, he caught at it, finding the ice here fairly substantial. He drew Trexler's body closer to him, and for the first time since the plunge he had a moment in which to think.

"I mustn't try and climb out or it'll break," he muttered. "Why don't the fellows come? They must have got out by now." He quite failed to realize how short a s.p.a.ce of time it was since he had first started to Trexler's aid. "I can't hold on here much longer. I'm freezing now, and--"

His voice broke a little, but he bit his lip and choked back the sob in his throat. Then, summoning all his strength, he tried to shout for help, but the result was a hoa.r.s.e croak that could not have been heard a hundred feet away. To his utter astonishment it was answered from close at hand.

"Hold tight, Frank; we're coming!"

It was Sherman Ward's voice. Sanson could scarcely believe his senses, even though a moment later he heard the sc.r.a.pe of skates and the grating of a sudden stopping. It took him a moment or two to realize that he had become turned around and was facing the inlet and the bridge, so that the fellows had been able to approach from down the lake without his seeing them.

"Get that branch there," he heard Sherman order crisply. "Hustle! Can you keep up a bit longer, Frank?"

"S-s-sure!" answered Sanson, through chattering teeth. "Only be as qu-quick as you c-c-can. P-P-Paul--"

"We'll be there in half a shake. That's it, Dale. Shove it across. Now, you fellows hold fast to that end while I go out."

There was a sc.r.a.ping sound and the end of a stout branch appeared in front of Sanson. Then, more slowly, Sherman's head and shoulders came in sight as he crept cautiously out along it.

"I'll take him first," he said. "Can you raise him up a little?"

"I'm afraid not. My arm's all numb, and--"

"All right," interrupted the patrol-leader. "I'll manage. Hold fast back there."

He wriggled forward a bit more and, reaching down, managed to catch Trexler under the arms. To draw him out of the water was a more difficult business, but Sherman had good muscles and accomplished it without accident. The ice creaked and groaned, but evidently had not been much weakened by the treacherous spring, and it held. The arm with which Frank had been supporting the boy had absolutely no feeling in it, and the strain of gripping the slippery ice was growing unendurable. He shifted his hold to the stick, however, and a moment later he was half lifted, half helped out on the solid ice.

"Yours for the cabin, quick!" said Ward, tersely. "Here, Ted, give us a hand."

MacIlvaine stepped quickly forward, and together they hustled Sanson across the ice. At first, Frank could scarcely move his feet and had to be practically carried along. But gradually the rapid motion, the stumbling, recovering, and general jolting-up began to send the blood tingling back into his chilled body. Ahead of them he could see Ranleigh and Dale Tompkins supporting Trexler, and making even better speed than his own conductors. The sight of that limp body, with one hand dangling helplessly, brought to Frank a sudden stinging pang of remorse and apprehension as he remembered the frenzied blow he had struck the fellow.

"Paul--" he gasped; "is he--"

"It's the cold and shock mostly, I think," answered Sherman. "He's all in, but not really unconscious. Did he go down?"

"I don't think so. Not more than once, anyway."

There was no more conversation until after they reached the cabin. Frank was able to stumble up the rocky slope unaided, and, once inside, his clothes were stripped off and he was rolled in blankets that had been heated before the roaring blaze. m.u.f.fled in these, with some of the boys deftly rubbing his legs and arms, it wasn't long before a delicious languor crept over him and he actually felt like dozing off to sleep.

He might have yielded to the impulse but for his anxiety about Trexler.

Paul lay in the opposite bunk and was being subjected to the same treatment as Frank, but he did not seem to be responding as readily as the more robust fellow. Of course, he had been longer exposed to the cold and shock, but Sanson did not think of that. He was still worrying over the ruthless manner in which he had struck the boy, and fearful that in some way the blow might be responsible for Trexler's condition. When Mr. Curtis and the doctor appeared, summoned by one of the fellows who had ridden hastily back to town on his wheel, Frank watched them apprehensively. When the scoutmaster at length came over to his bunk he sat up abruptly and poured forth his doubts and fears before the older man had time to say a word.

Mr. Curtis listened quietly, and when the boy had finished he smiled rea.s.suringly and shook his head. "You needn't worry about that, Frank,"

he said. "The doctor says he'll come around all right. He's pretty well done up from the exposure and shock, and you know he's never been so very strong. I don't think your hitting him has had much to do with it, but even if it had, no one could blame you. It was a question of that, or of both of you going down, and in such an emergency almost any methods are right. How are you feeling yourself?"

"Oh, I'm all right now, sir. There's nothing at all the matter with me.

I don't see why I can't get up."

"Better not just yet. There's nothing special you can do. I have a car over by the bridge, and when Paul is fit to be moved, we'll all go back together."

"But I've got my wheel here," protested Frank.

"Let somebody else ride it in," returned Mr. Curtis. "After such a dousing there's no use taking chances." He paused a moment, his eyes fixed quizzically on the boy's face. "You can't swim, can you, Frank?"

he went on presently.

"Oh, yes, sir!" the boy said hastily.

A faint smile curved the man's lips. "How much?" he asked quietly. "About six strokes?"

Sanson flushed, and a guilty grin overspread his face. "Make it eight, sir," he chuckled. "A fellow can't seem to fool you at all."

"And yet you went in after--"

"But I didn't!" interrupted Frank, earnestly. "I was reaching out with my hockey-stick, and the ice broke and dropped me in. I didn't mean to at all."

"Broke without any warning, I suppose," murmured Mr. Curtis. "You couldn't possibly have escaped--even by letting go your stick."

The boy's flush deepened, and he wriggled uncomfortably. "I--I--" he stammered, and then was silent.

The scoutmaster gave a low, contented laugh, and something in his glance sent an odd thrill through Sanson. He didn't a.n.a.lyze it. He only knew that all at once he had ceased to feel embarra.s.sed and was happy and comfortable, and back of it all not a little proud of the thing which had won his scoutmaster's commendation.

"I won't bother you any more," smiled Mr. Curtis, as he turned away. "I had an idea that was about how it happened, though."