The Rival Campers Part 32

asked Tom, finally. "We don't seem to be a success as man-hunters."

"I'm about ready to quit," answered Bob, yawning and stretching. "The fact is, we really get enough exercise through the day. Here we've been swimming, bicycling, helping the Warrens get up driftwood, paddled over to the cape, all in one day,-and here we are at it again at night. Yes, I think it's time we gave this up."

"Then supposing we do call it off," said Tom. "I've had paddling enough for one day. What do you say to going up along the beach for a mile or two, and then taking the shortest cut home and coming down for the canoe to-morrow? I think I'm kind of tired, myself, though I didn't notice it when we started out."

"All right, that suits me," replied Bob. "I don't mind saying that I'm a bit tired, too. That last mile came hard, and no mistake."

So they rose and sauntered along the beach toward the Narrows, till they had come to within about half a mile of it, and then sat down once more for a brief rest before going home.

"It seems almost too bad to go home to bed such a beautiful night as this," said Bob. "These are the kind of nights that make me wish we had the old tent back again, so we could lie on our bunks and look out on the water, as we used to do before we went to sleep."

The night was indeed singularly calm and peaceful. The bay was still, and the water as it came up the beach with the tide made only a small rustling, creeping sound, as it covered the sand inch by inch. As for the island, it always seemed asleep after nightfall, and to-night there was scarcely a sound of life anywhere to break the stillness.

But then, all at once, as they sat there looking out upon the water, out of the silence there arose a cry, faint and smothered, but a cry for help.

Then all was still again.

They sprang to their feet, startled, almost frightened for a brief moment at the strange cry, coming from they knew not where.

Again the cry came, this time more distinctly, from somewhere out on the water. They heard the words, "Help! Help!" uttered in a choking voice, as of a man drowning.

The boys rushed down to the water's edge and peered out over the bay, straining their eyes to see whence the sound came.

"Hulloa! Hulloa! Where are you? What's the matter? Call again!" cried Tom.

They listened, and in a moment the voice came again weirdly over the water, though they could not distinguish this time the words.

"Why, there it is," cried Bob, all at once, pointing as he spoke. "Don't you see it, Tom? I declare, but it's queer we didn't see it before. Look, there's something floating only about an eighth of a mile out,-and there's something moving a little distance from it. Why, Tom, I'll tell you what it is. It's a canoe-it's Jack Harvey-and he's upset-he's drowning. Just look, where I am pointing."

"Yes, I see," exclaimed Tom, excitedly. "I just saw a splash. He's upset, sure enough, and struggling. I say, Bob, we've got to swim out. Our canoe is too far. Keep up! We're coming!" he called, and began hurriedly to strip off his clothing.

In a moment the two boys were in the water, striking out wildly toward the object that seemed to be a canoe floating in the water.

"Hold on there, Bob," cried Tom, presently. "We mustn't try to be too fast. We'll only waste our strength. We'll need it all when we get there.

Let's calm down, now, and not get excited. We've got to keep our heads."

Then, as they surged ahead, with long, powerful strokes, the voice again came, calling chokingly for help. There could be no mistaking it now. It was Jack Harvey.

"Quick!" he cried, "quick! I can't hold on long. I'm hurt."

They quickened their strokes, and in a moment more came in plain sight of Harvey, struggling feebly to keep above water.

"Hold on for a moment, Jack," said Tom, as they came up to him. "Don't grab us, now. Let us do the work. You just keep on paddling, what you can, and we'll save you."

"I won't grab you," gasped Harvey. "Just get on each side of me and let me put my hands on your shoulders for a moment, till I get my strength back. I've swallowed a lot of water."

The two swam up close, and Harvey reached up and rested a hand on each shoulder.

"Swim for the canoe now," said Tom. "We'll let him get hold of the end of that and cling on for a few moments till he gets his breath. He'll be all right, I think."

Reaching the overturned canoe, they helped him to clasp one end of it, and then supported him there, as they began to push it toward sh.o.r.e by swimming with their feet and with a single hand each.

For a few moments Harvey managed to hold on, but then his strength seemed to fail him and his hands slipped their hold.

"I can't hold on," he gasped. "Something's hurting me."

"Then lie over on your back and float," said Tom. "Just lie still and we'll swim you in."

Harvey groaned at the effort it cost him, but did as he was told, and they left the canoe and struck out with him for the sh.o.r.e.

It was not such a long swim that they had before them, but they had exhausted their strength more than they knew in their excitement, and Harvey was well-nigh helpless.

Before they had swum a rod farther, their breath began to come hard and their shoulders ached until it seemed as though they would crack.

Still they kept on.

"We'll make it all right, Tom?" said Bob, finally, panting the words out.

"We've got to," said Tom. "We're bound to do it. Let's swim on our backs for a spell. Jack, we're going to change the stroke. Don't get scared.

We're going to stick by you."

The words seemed to rouse Harvey, who had apparently almost lost consciousness.

"Let me go," he gasped, faintly. "Let me go, I say. I don't want you fellows to drown, too. Let me--"

And then he seemed suddenly to lose control of himself, and clutched frantically at them, with the frenzy of a drowning man.

They struck themselves loose from him, and he sank under water, but came to the surface again, exhausted and helpless. Tom seized him then by the hair. He lay motionless, as though dead, and they took hold once more and struck out again for the sh.o.r.e.

When they had reached it-they scarcely knew how-and felt the sand again under their feet, they had barely strength enough to drag Harvey a little ways out of the water, and lay by his side on the beach, groaning with every breath they drew.

This was from sheer exhaustion, caused by exerting themselves far beyond their natural strength. They were not strangled with swallowing water, so that after they had lain there flat on the beach for some five minutes they had regained their strength sufficiently to be able to arise and lift the half-unconscious Harvey completely out of the water and carry him up on the bank. Then they sat down and rested once more, sitting by Harvey's side and chafing his hands. They lifted him up, although the effort cost them all their strength, held him head downwards for a moment to get the water out of him, then doubled his arms upon his breast and extended them, over and over again, alternately, as they had learned was the way to restore a man rescued from drowning.

Harvey, who had never fully lost consciousness, revived under their treatment, till at length they perceived that he was out of danger, and needed now as quickly as possible warmth and shelter.

There was no house near by, and it was clear that whatever was done for Harvey must be done by them.

"We can't carry him, that's certain," said Bob, finally. "We've got to get our canoe and paddle him up as far as the Narrows in that. Then we can get his crew over, and we can all carry him up to their camp."

So Bob set out on a weary trot down along the sh.o.r.e to where they had hidden their canoe. Tom waited by Harvey, trying to keep him warm, or, rather, to restore warmth to him, by rubbing; but Harvey was chilled through and through and s.h.i.+vered pitifully. It was fully an hour, and seemed ten to Tom, before Bob appeared in sight again.

They lifted Harvey into the canoe and set out for the Narrows. Poor Bob was well-nigh exhausted, and it was Tom who did about all the paddling.

They reached the Narrows, however, after what seemed an endless journey, driving their paddles through the water with arms that almost refused to obey the wills that forced them to work.

When they had reached the Narrows, Tom set out for Harvey's camp, leaving Bob to wait with Harvey. Tom had not gone more than half a mile, however, when he ran into the entire crew, who had become alarmed at Harvey's long absence, knowing that he had gone out in the canoe, and had started out in search of him.

Tom's white face, pallid with weariness, filled them with terror, as he rushed up to them and sank down on a knoll, breathless.

"Why, it's Tom Harris," exclaimed Joe Hinman. "For Heaven's sake, what is it? Did you see Jack? Is he drowned?"