Chapter 8

A SURPRISE

Fred's words created much excitement. Some of the boys stood and looked out to where Colon was struggling desperately in the deep water, seeming to be almost paralyzed with alarm. Others, who kept their wits about them, started after Fred, who, plunging in, was already swimming across the Mohunk.

Fred knew the danger that awaited them. When anyone is drowning, he or she seems to lose all the good sense which at another time he may have possessed. The instinct of self preservation is so strong that a drowning boy will clutch at his dearest friend, and hold frantically to him, not because he wants to pull the other down, but because he hopes to be himself buoyed up.

"Help! help!" Colon was trying to scream, though the water, getting in his mouth, muffled the sound considerably.

There was no need of his wasting what little breath he still possessed. His chums were doing everything in their power to assist him before it was too late.

Fred presently arrived close to Colon, who had been under water once, and sank again even as his camp-mate arrived on the spot. It gave Fred a sickening feeling to see the poor fellow threshing wildly with his long arms, grasping at a floating chip, which, to his excited mind, was magnified into a log.

Fred had made sure to be above the other when he arrived. He wanted the benefit of the current in carrying out the plan he had in mind.

One last look he took to locate Colon. Then he dove out of sight, so that the other might not see him coming, and try to clutch him. Once those frenzied hands closed upon any part of his person, Fred knew that he would have to strike Colon in the face, and stun him, before he could break loose.

But he had figured well, for he came up just behind the struggling boy, who was making one last effort to keep on the surface, ere going down for the last time.

Quick as a flash Fred threw his arm around Colon, who, just as he expected, tried desperately to seize him. This the other prevented with all his strength.

All he wanted to do now was to continue to hold Colon until some of the others arrived on the scene, when altogether they might be able to work him to the shore.

Had he been alone with Colon, Fred feared he must have resorted to other tactics if he hoped to get the other out of the river alive. But Brad and several more of the strong swimmers had by now reached a point close enough for them to ask what he wanted them to do. Even in that moment they recognized the fact that Fred was the one to whom they should look for orders, because he always knew just what to do in an emergency.

"Each one of you get a grip on an arm; and be sure you don't let him grab you," was what Fred said.

Brad readily carried out the instructions, and helped buoy up the helpless boy; while Sid Wells took the other arm.

"He's dead!" cried the latter, seeing that Colon no longer struggled, but lay like a log in the water.

"Don't you believe it," answered Fred, instantly. "He's swallowed a whole lot of water, and is pretty far gone; but let's get him ashore, and revive him!"

Others had by now come up, and between the lot poor Colon was hurried to the bank, up which he was carried.

"Lay him here, face down, so I can straddle him with my knees!" Fred called out. "Now, some of you begin, and work his arms back and forth regularly, while I press down on his lungs so as to induce artificial breathing. That's the only way to get things started, you see. A little harder, Brad, please. And don't the rest of you look so scared. He's going to come out of this. He wasn't under the water any time at all, but just gave way because of the cramp and the scare."

So Fred talked as he worked, and all the while he was building up the hopes of the fellows, who looked peaked and white, under the belief that they had seen the last of their chum, the good-natured Colon.

And Fred was right.

In a very short time one of the boys who were working Colon's arms like the piston rods of a locomotive cried out:

"He moved a little then, fellows!"

"And listen to that, would you?" exclaimed another delighted chum, as Colon plainly sighed.

In five minutes Colon recovered enough to be helped back to camp, where he was rubbed down until his skin fairly glowed, and then hustled between a pair of blankets, to rest, while the others dressed, and got breakfast ready.

Colon had learned his lesson. He would never again persist in remaining in ice-cold water when he was shivering, and his lips turning blue. Nature has a way of sending up a warning sign, that every intelligent fellow ought to heed.

That day passed all too soon, and another night arrived, the last they expected to spend in camp up on the Mohunk. The following day the wagon belonging to Judge Colon, an uncle of the tall boy, and put at the service of the young campers, would come to "tote" all the stuff back to town again, and some of the boys in the bargain.

Of course nine of them would go back, as they had come, in the boat. And this time there was no need of any secrecy, so they could expect to excite more or less curiosity when they shot past Mechanicsburg.

The mere thought inspired the boys with eagerness. In imagination they could already see the wondering faces lining the bank, and the people running to see as the word was passed hurriedly along that the new eight-oared shell of the Riverport crew was sighted up the river.

They had become very careful now about the boat, which was growing more valuable in their eyes every hour, as they developed its capabilities. Catch any of them throwing torches around promiscuously now; no one ever touched the fire so that the sparks flew, but half a dozen pairs of anxious eyes followed the course they took, and speculation arose as to the chances of their doing any damage.

During the morning another trial spin was taken, with Colon again in his place, and pulling a strong oar. Brad and Fred both declared that the crew was coming on famously, and would be able to give a good account of themselves when the time arrived to meet their old rivals of Mechanicsburg.

Along about three in the afternoon the wagon arrived. As the tents had been taken down, and all the camp things well packed, it took but a short time to load up. Then the wagon started, escorted by the eight fellows who could not find places in the boat.

The crew gave them a cheer for a send-off, and received as loud a salute in return. After which they took their places in the long, narrow boat, for the run of seven miles down the river home.

Brad was keenly alive to every little thing that took place. Like a wise coxswain he felt that he ought to know each man's weakness, if he had any, so as to build him up into a perfect part of the whole machine. For a boat crew must act as though it were one unit, at the nod and whim of the fellow who sits in the stern, doing the steering, and by his motions increasing or diminishing the stroke. If one cog fails to work perfectly, the entire thing collapses.

"Fine! Great work, fellows!" Brad was saying again and again after they had passed over a couple of miles down-stream. "You're doing yourselves proud; and honest now, I believe you could take a little faster stroke. We must be doing our prettiest when we spurt past Mechanicsburg."

Brad had just finished saying this when he received one of the surprises of his life. His eyes were the only ones that could see down the river, and as he happened to glance over toward the left bank, where there was something of a neck of land shutting a large bay out of sight, judge of his amazement when he discovered the pointed prow of a racing boat thrusting out, and headed toward the middle of the river.

And as Brad sat there, almost petrified, as he afterwards declared, the boat shot into view, containing a crew of eight, and a coxswain, in the latter of whom he recognized Buck Lemington.