Thinking, of course, that it must be Billy or one of the other scouts, wishing information, perhaps, connected with their intention for that night’s meeting, Hugh was somewhat surprised to hear an unfamiliar voice address him.
“Is this Hugh Hardin?”
“It is,” he at once replied.
“Well, never mind asking who’s talking to you, because I don’t mean to give my name,” continued the other hastily. “I’m a boy, and one you know. I’m not a member of the scouts, though I hope to be one of these days. Now, I wanted to warn you that I’m afraid you’re in for a heap of trouble, perhaps to-night, about this thing of cleaning up the town. How do I know? Well, I’m only giving a guess, but chances are it’s a good one. I saw Lige Corbley talking like everything to a bunch of his kind. There were several fellows on deck that don’t generally train with him; but they acted like they’d joined forces. All I heard was something to the effect that they’d ‘show him what they thought of his silly old proclamation.’ I reckoned that might mean the mayor, so p’raps they’ve got it in for him good and hard. That’s all I know, and I don’t want to hold the wire any longer. You needn’t try to find out who I am, because I don’t want to be thanked, and by the same token I don’t mean to take any chances of those fellows learning who gave their game away. So-long, Hugh!”
Hugh looked thoughtful after receiving this friendly warning. He was not very much surprised, truth to tell, and had rather expected that conditions would bring the Corbley crowd to the front again.
It did not matter much who the boy might be from whom the warning had come. Evidently he had considered it his duty to put the assistant scout master of the troop on his guard, and at the same time, knowing Lige Corbley well, to keep his own name out of the matter for fear of unpleasant consequences.
Not feeling full confidence in the police to patrol the town and prevent vandalism, Hugh realized that the scouts were going to have their hands full in trying to keep that which they had won through hard labor.
Of course the home folks were full of the subject at the supper table, and so Hugh had to relate all that had happened.
“I’ve been receiving ever so many messages from the women connected with the Improvement League all of to-day,” Mrs. Hardin remarked with a glance full of motherly pride toward Hugh, “and they agree that the time is ripe to settle this important question once and for all. We will have a better and cleaner city after the scouts have done their work. It will be a far healthier place in which to live and rear a family. And whatever you and your comrades do, my son, be sure that you have the backing of those to whom you are dear. We feel every confidence in the ability of the troop to master this problem, as you have others in the past.”
Of course Hugh understood that he would have the sympathy of those at home when he first started into this thing, but all the same it made his pulses thrill to hear such encouraging words.
As soon as supper was over, he started for the place of meeting. There was much to be discussed before they settled on their plan for the night; and every scout on duty must know just how far he would be allowed to go in trying to keep the unruly elements in check.
The mayor had given them permission to serve as aids to the police in the effort to keep the peace, but this only meant that they could patrol as much as they pleased. They must call upon the guardians of the town in case they made any important discovery.
Hugh did not altogether fancy such an arrangement, and he meant to put it up to his followers to decide whether they should carry it out or settle on some plan of their own, looking to teach the Corbley crowd a much needed lesson should any of them be taken in the act.
There was not a single fellow missing when the meeting was called that night except two who were known to be sick, another whose mother did not wish him to be out nights, and a fourth scout who happened to be out of town with his folks.
Tired though the boys might be after such a strenuous day, their faces were full of eager enthusiasm. The spirit that animated each fellow made him forget his aches and pains. Fond of camping out, the idea of being allowed to patrol the town with the full permission of the mayor appealed very strongly to every scout, and they were impatient for Hugh to announce his plans.
“How are we going to do this patrol work, Hugh?” asked Billy Worth as he and Jack Durham pushed their way to the front of the group surrounding the assistant scout master.
“I’ll appoint squads, and they are to be divided into couples,” replied the leader of the troop. “No scout is to go alone because he may be set upon, and with two, it’s always possible to give the alarm. Then we’ll have signs and passwords. If help is wanted, you must call out with the sign of your patrol—the Hawks giving their ‘Kree-kree-eee,’ the Wolves a loud ‘How-ooo-ooo,’ the Foxes ‘Skee-eee-eee,’ and the Otters ‘Yap-yap-yap’! You all understand that only in case help is needed are you to utter these patrol calls.”
“And if we catch any fellow trying to litter up the town, what’s going to happen to him?” asked Alec Sands grimly.
“I want to get the sentiment of the troop on that subject,” said Hugh. “Don’t all talk at once, but tell me what you think we ought to do. You know the mayor hasn’t exactly ordered us to do it, but probably he expects that if we catch any of that crowd doing what the proclamation forbids, we ought to hand the fellow over to one of the police force, to be taken to the lock-up.”
The scouts did not seem to favor this idea very much. All sorts of dissenting notes arose.
“Huh! and if we did that how many of you expect he’d reach the cooler?” demanded Dick Bellamy, who was of a skeptical turn when it came to believing any good of the police.
“Chances are they’d let the fellow slip through their fingers and then say it was an accident that couldn’t be helped,” added Monkey Stallings, the boy who was so agile that he could perform all manner of circus tricks as though born to the spangles and the sawdust arena.
“Hugh, don’t make us take that bitter medicine,” urged Spike Welling. “Make up some other scheme of your own. Seems to me we ought to take the case into our hands if we manage to make a capture. Somebody might carry a whip along, and we’d give him a taste of strap oil that’d cure him from prowling around nights, spoiling the looks of things.”
Hugh shook his head at this ferocious suggestion.
“I don’t think that would do at all,” he said at once. “It might get us into trouble. We’re not in the White Cap business, you see. But it might do to give the prisoner his choice between being handed over to the police or taking a ducking.”
“That’s the ticket!” cried Cooper Fennimore with enthusiasm. “Cool him off by dipping him in the river a few times, clothes and all. My stars! After he found the scouts meant business from the word go and wouldn’t stand for any foolishness, I guess he’d quit his funny work and behave. Talking won’t go with that crowd; you’ve just got to do things. That’s the only kind of lesson they’ll learn.”
Others made suggestions along various lines. Some of these were comical, and others seemed too barbarous to think of entertaining for a minute. After all was said and done, it appeared to be the consensus of opinion that in case they did make a capture the plan outlined by Hugh had better be put into execution. If the fellow was stubborn and would not make a choice between two evils, then the scouts could do it for him, and every one knew what would happen then, for the police must find their own prisoners.
All preliminaries were soon arranged. Each scout knew just what his duties and privileges were to be. They went forth full of a desire to acquit themselves with credit to the whole troop. And no doubt every fellow was secretly hoping deep down in his heart that the offending Corbley crowd would not change their minds and lie low on this particular night. Although they belonged to a peace organization, the scouts loved action. Nothing pleased them more than to have things happening thick and fast, giving them delicious little thrills all the while.
Once again the night favored them.
The moon was already “doing business at the old stand,” as Billy described it, and this promised to be of considerable importance to the boys who meant to roam the streets for hours in couples, keeping a bright lookout for offenders desirous of defying the mayor’s proclamation.
It being Saturday night, there were an unusually large number of people abroad, as was always the case at week-ends. On this particular occasion it seemed to be in the air that something out of the ordinary might be expected. No one knew what, and consequently men, women, boys and girls thronged the principal streets up to nine o’clock.
That time came and went with everything appearing as usual and no outbreak occurring. Hugh had taken it for granted that the young vandals would not venture to bother the park again, knowing that the police had it under their eye; and besides, there were far too many persons abroad in that section of the city for them to venture to show themselves there.
If they did break loose at all, the attack would likely enough come in another quarter entirely. Feeling confident of this, Hugh disposed of his scouts in such a manner that they could guard the parts where the police did not patrol: the residence sections.
He and Billy walked around and followed the beat which they had taken it upon themselves to cover. Everything was being conducted with military exactness. They had not forgotten the methods of the two rival armies in the mock battle, when they had served as signal corps operators, nor the example of the Naval Reserves, nor the work of the Life Savers.
When the two reached one end of their beat, they waited until another pair of khaki-clad figures approached, and then the secret countersign was passed between them in whispers. After that Hugh and Billy walked to the other end of their beat, and there rubbed up against another couple of scouts.
Ten o’clock came, and as yet all was well. Some of the boys began to weary of this unusual exertion. They had had a warm day and a most strenuous one as well. It did not seem surprising, then, that they should find themselves yawning at a terrific rate, and beginning to wish that something would happen, or else that Hugh would order them home.
This sort of thing was going on all over the section where Hugh had figured it was most likely the prank-loving vandals would start their work, if they ventured to do anything at all. The score and a half of scouts had been placed in such manner as to cover quite a large space. If Lige and his followers managed to slip inside the lines and cut up any tricks, they would have to be mighty crafty about it, for every scout was supposed to be constantly on the alert, watching right and left for suspicious conditions.
“Looks as if it might have been a case of bluff, doesn’t it, Hugh?” Billy said, when another half hour had crept past. Sounds from downtown were dying out as people went home, believing that there would not be any excitement, after all.
“It’s a little too early to settle that question, I’m afraid, Billy,” replied the assistant scout master. “If they meant to do anything, you wouldn’t expect them to start in until as late as this, anyway. We’ll try to hold out till midnight, and then if nothing starts, why I suppose we’ll have to go home and take chances.”
“Whee, an hour and a half yet, that means!” said Billy with a big sigh, as the church clock rang the half hour. He was hardly able to drag one fat leg after the other such was his utter weariness, but being the possessor of a stubborn spirit, Billy would not confess that he felt anything but “chipper.”
“Something may happen before then to change our plans,” Hugh told him. “If we managed to make a capture, I think you’d brighten up.”
“Just try me,” replied Billy, endeavoring to look as though he were not half dead for sleep; for Billy’s two great weaknesses were a love for lying in bed mornings, and a dislike to leaving the dinner table so long as anything to eat remained in sight.
“When the Chief came around just a little while back to see how we were getting on, he said he did not expect to have any trouble to-night,” Hugh continued. “That fierce proclamation from the mayor seems to have convinced him that the evildoers will all take to hiding. But we know different. Fellows like Lige Corbley and their crowd think very little of the mayor’s backbone. You see, about every one of them has a father or uncle who can exercise his ‘pull’ with the authorities, and they rely on that to get them off in case of trouble.”
“That sounds true to me, Hugh,” Billy observed; “but then, the city was never so much worked up as now, and the people won’t stand for any of that funny business. If the mayor is back of us, then the Chief had better look out or he’ll lose the number of his mess. Seems to me he’s on to that fact, too, which accounts for the way he acts toward us scouts. We represent thirty-eight families, and some of the most influential in town. Guess he begins to think he’s fooling with a buzz-saw when he tries to go against the sentiment of the best citizens.”
“Watch that fellow over there, Billy,” said Hugh, putting out his hand and holding his companion still under the shadow of a willow tree.
“It’s a boy, isn’t it? He seems to be looking around as if he wanted to find out whether this section was being patrolled and where the guards hold out, eh, Hugh?”
“Do you notice that he’s got his cap drawn away down over his face? But it seems to me that his walk is familiar,” Hugh responded. “If you asked me who he is, I’d give a guess and say Andy Wallis!”
“The Chief’s own nephew!” ejaculated Billy.
“Yes, and as he doesn’t live in this part of town at all, the question is: what brings him here?” remarked Hugh in a whisper, all the while watching the actions of the shadowy figure across the street.
The boy may have suspected that he was seen, for suddenly starting to whistle, as though he did not have a care in the wide world, he walked off at a more rapid pace and vanished around the near-by corner, where he would enter upon the next patrol’s post.
“Do you think he was spying out the land, Hugh?” Billy inquired eagerly.
“That’s hard to say,” came the answer; “but one thing is sure, he wouldn’t be in this neighborhood unless he had some scheme in his head. I’m inclined to think he is acting as a sort of decoy to draw some of us away while others get in their work.”
“Gee! that sounds interesting,” remarked “Billy the Wolf,” as his chums often called him, no doubt because he was so often heard practicing the long-drawn howl of the Wolf Patrol.
The two scouts continued to pace their beat industriously. Billy had managed to overcome that dreadful feeling of drowsiness, for a time at least. Of course it was bound to come back again later on with increased energy; but the growing possibility of something stirring happening was keeping him on edge now.
Perhaps ten minutes later, or it may have been no more than eight, around the corner came a flying figure that quickly resolved itself into a boy wearing the well-known khaki suit of a scout.
It was no other than Arthur Cameron, whose beat adjoined that of Hugh and Billy and with whom they had exchanged passwords many times since going on duty.
Arthur was plainly wild with fresh excitement, and Billy’s heart began to beat fast with anticipations of coming news.
“What ails you, Arthur?” demanded the assistant scout master, as the other came close up, panting for breath.
“They’re there, and doing it for keeps!” gasped Arthur.
“Where do you mean, and what are they doing?” asked Hugh quickly; while doubtless Billy was saying to himself something like, “Oh, joy! joy! now we’ll get it!”
“Over in the mayor’s front yard, playing hob with everything!” Arthur burst out.
This thrilling news awakened Hugh to the fact that after all the bold Corbley crowd meant to defy the mayor. They had “taken the bull by the horns,” and to make the lesson all the more impressive, had selected the front yard of His Honor as the scene of their vandalism.
Now Hugh had dimly suspected that something along these lines might happen, and for that reason had chosen to be close to the scene. He knew the place of the mayor very well, as he had seen it year in and out while passing to school and back.
The owner took considerable pride in the well-kept lawn and the shrubs he had planted, some of them coming from foreign lands. In fact, it was one of the show places in town, and strangers were usually piloted around that way to see how lovely one of the local homes could appear.
Reckless of consequences, indeed, must the young rascals have been, thus to bring matters straight home to the head of the community. Hugh was satisfied that they were really playing into the hands of the good women who had long endeavored to arouse the sluggish mayor, but in vain. If the wanton destruction wrought by these vicious boys was brought home to him, His Honor would have no other course to pursue than to push the war until he had broken up the unruly gang and made people understand that he was going to stand back of the Town Improvement League.
So Hugh was in no particular hurry to get around there and bring the operations of the vandals to a stop. It would be a pity to burst in upon them too soon, when they were doing the finest thing possible to end this reign of lawlessness that had gripped the pretty city in its throes.
Besides, it was necessary that they summon others of the scouts to help them in the round-up. Half a dozen, at least, should be on hand in order to make a sure thing of it.
Hugh had all this sort of thing already figured out in his mind, so that when the emergency came along he did not have to do any thinking. The motto of the scouts, “Be Prepared,” he had taken to heart long ago and never let an opportunity pass for laying his plans in case certain things came to pass.
Just on the other side of the beat that he and Billy the Wolf were covering, he knew could be found Alec and Bud Morgan, two of the most dependable of the troop. Counting the side partner of Arthur, who was no other than Monkey Stallings, there would thus be six of them in all, which Hugh determined ought to be enough to carry out his plans.
Advancing part way toward the next meeting point, Hugh gave the Wolf cry in a subdued fashion. If Bud should hear this he would know that he and his partner were needed in the quarter from whence the cry sprang.
Twice more did Hugh sound the call to action. Then he heard the swiftly moving patter of feet and the two scouts came hurrying into view, looking eager and fit for business.
“What’s up?” asked Alec, as he and Bud Morgan joined the others.
“The gang is at work, doing all the damage they can to the mayor’s front lawn. We want to try and round them up in a hurry,” Hugh explained.
“How many are there of them?” asked Bud, not that he cared what the answer might be for fear of consequences, but only for general information and interest.
“I forgot to ask Arthur about that,” declared Hugh, turning to the scout in question and adding, “How about it?”
“We saw three of them at work,” replied the other, just as Monkey joined him, “and there may have been yet another keeping watch on the street so as to let them know if the cops were coming.”
“Did they see you running away?” asked the scout leader.
“We tried to keep from showing ourselves, but even if they did, chances are they think we were heading for downtown to tell the police,” Arthur replied.
“Well, what we want to do is to get into the Simmons place, next door to the mayor’s, and climb through the hedge. Then we’ll try to lay our plans so as to close in around one particular chap and gobble him,” Hugh explained in a low voice.
“But what if he shows fight? Do we lick him into subjection?” asked Bud, acting as though ready to roll up his sleeves and pitch in.
“Don’t hit him any more than you can help,” warned Hugh. “It might reflect on us as scouts if we gave him a black eye. People would say we were only the same old brand of fighters under a new name. But hold on tight, and if you can only get him down, sit on him. That ought to be enough to tell you what to do.”
“Leave it to us, Hugh,” said Bud Morgan with a chuckle. “We’ll do our level best to convince the chap he ought to stop over awhile with us, and find out if the water is still as warm as it was last month.”
“Then come right along, and keep low down,” directed Hugh, starting toward the gate of the place adjoining that of the mayor.
The other five boys trailed after him like Indians, every fellow bending down and walking as silently as the conditions permitted. Hugh opened the gate and they passed through. Across the lawn they started, heading for the fine big hedge that stood on the line between the properties.
You would have thought that Hugh had been there before, spying out the land, or that some sense of intuition led him to find the one place in all that hedge where it was thin and the barrier weak, for he struck it almost the first thing. Well, possibly he had noticed this fact that afternoon when walking past the home of the mayor. It often pays to take note as you go, and scouts find that out in their everyday experiences.
Reaching the hedge, Hugh looked through one of the small openings where the foliage was unusually thin. He could see the fine lawn of the adjoining place, with its choice shrubs and bordering trees.
Immediately he discovered moving forms. They looked shadowy in the deceptive moonlight, but Hugh felt sure they were just boys, going about trying to do all manner of things that would tell the owner that they snapped their fingers with contempt at the order he had taken the trouble to issue, which was staring down at passing citizens from every fence and blank wall in town.
Yes, there were three of them in sight. Just what they were doing, Hugh could not say; but he plainly heard the sound of cutting, and thought that they might be damaging some of those highly prized foreign shrubs for which the mayor had paid fancy prices.
Like a general surveying the field of battle, Hugh took in the details, and in a few seconds he had planned his campaign. Napoleon could not have done it better, so the other scouts thought, after they had heard what he whispered to them.
At a certain moment, when the backs of the intruders happened to be turned, they were one and all to crawl through the hedge. Every scout was expected to keep his eyes fixed upon the moving figures beyond, and should one of them seem to act as though suspicious of the presence of the newcomers, Hugh would give the shrill call of the katydid. Upon hearing this each was to remain perfectly motionless until the tiny cry of the cricket announced that it was safe to be advancing again.
Twice did this occur while they were making the passage of the hedge; but owing to the extreme care taken by the scouts, those they were trying to surprise did not appear to have taken alarm, as would certainly have been the case had they suspected that enemies were near.
From that time on, Hugh figured upon creeping along in the dense shadow of the hedge until he could lead his followers to a certain spot where he had hastily calculated that one of the three vandals was heading.
It was evident that the scouts had profited by what experience they had had in creeping up on an imaginary enemy, for they conducted the operation splendidly. The fellow who was slashing away at the foliage of the bushes, chuckling while he worked as though vastly enjoying himself, had not the slightest suspicion of hovering danger until Hugh gave the Wolf call and six figures quickly surrounded him.
There were cries of alarm from the other two roughs, who melted into the shrubbery, doubtless under the impression that the whole scout troop was on the field, ready to encompass their capture. So the unlucky one was left to the tender mercies of the half-dozen scouts.
He saw that his case was desperate and immediately tried to dash through the encircling line. This action had been anticipated, however, and instantly two of the most active scouts pounced upon him, Monkey Stallings actually fastening upon his back as though he were the Old Man of the Sea whom Sindbad could not get rid of when once he had him on his shoulders.
For a brief time there was something of a mix-up, and even the quick percussion of blows could be heard. No one ever admitted who was responsible for them, although Bud Morgan carried not only a blackened eye for a week, but skinned knuckles into the bargain.
It soon ended in the trespasser being made a prisoner, and his hands tied behind his back with a thong that had been carried along for this very purpose. When they came to look at him, now that his cap was knocked off, it was found that their captive was a fellow by the name of Betts Smith, known among the boys of the town as “Whistling Smith.” The reason for giving him that name was rather a queer one. It seems that he stuttered dreadfully at times, and in order to be able to stop when once started, he was in the habit of taking in a quick breath and then uttering a sharp whistle or two, after which, singular to say, he could go on speaking as rationally as any one.
The scouts took him out on the street and then offered him a choice between being ducked or handed over to the police to be locked up. Perhaps he hardly believed that they meant to carry out either threat, or his infirmity may have taken such a grip on him that he could not utter a word in reply. Whatever the cause, he was silent.
Accordingly, the boys took it upon themselves to pronounce sentence. Then while Hugh went to leave word for the rest of the troop to close up and protect the mayor’s place against a return of the raiders, his followers decided not to wait for him but to hustle the prisoner at once toward the river bank.
Hugh was surprised to find them gone on his return. He had expected that nothing would be done toward punishing the captured boy until they had all gathered for the purpose. Of course he could give a good guess as to which direction the others had taken, and with more or less apprehension he hurried after them.
As he drew near the river, he could hear the boys talking. They seemed to be trying to impress the wretched victim with a sense of the punishment that was about to be dealt out to him. Whistling Smith tried in vain to say something. He grew thicker and thicker in his utterance, owing to excitement and alarm; but it could be fairly well understood that he was pleading with them not to throw him into the river, which was deep at that point, with a rapid current.
“He says he doesn’t know how to swim, fellows,” Bud Morgan was heard to call out; “but that’s all a cooked-up story. Of course, every boy knows how to swim. Overboard with him, clothes and all. He’s got to learn that this town’s going to be a clean town after this. We’ll begin by giving him a bath. Souse him in!”
There followed a tremendous splash, and Hugh sprinted for all he was worth lest he arrive too late. Even as he came up, he heard Arthur Cameron cry out:
“Look at him go under, will you? Say, perhaps he spoke the truth when he said he couldn’t swim a stroke! Do you think he can be drowning out there? Bud, why don’t you jump in and grab hold of him? There, he’s gone down again!”
Some one sprang past, shedding shoes and coat as he ran. Then there was another splash, as Hugh Hardin leaped headlong into the moonlit river and struck wildly out for the struggling figure of the late prisoner, already fighting for his life.
Bud Morgan had started for the water, overcome with remorse and fear, but Hugh far outstripped him in the race, reaching the imperiled lad before Bud left the bank.
Just before the scout master arrived, and ere he could place his eager hand on Whistling Smith, the latter went down again. This was the third disappearance, and he was so terrified that there was great danger lest it be the last. He had kept his mouth open most of the time, and must have swallowed great quantities of water during his frantic struggles.
Hugh had anticipated just such a happening. He had kept a close watch upon the other as he approached, and in this the light of the full moon proved of great value, enabling him to see what was going on.
Quickly gauging the conditions, he dove and stretched out both hands, seeking to clutch the garments of the helpless boy. Had he misjudged distances even by the fraction of a foot, he might have missed connection, and in that case the consequences would have been very serious.
Fortunately, however, Hugh had kept his head and did not make a failure of his effort to locate the object of his search. As soon as he came in contact with the boy, he seized him and arose to the surface, battling with all his energies to overcome the dreadful suction of the current of the river.
Just then Hugh had but one thought, and this was to get Smith’s head above the water as quickly as he could. Every second that the other remained under added to the possibilities of his drowning, for he might be so far gone when they got him ashore that all their skill would fail to restore him.
The boy had ceased to struggle. While this may have seemed a serious thing, at least it aided Hugh in his effort to save the other. He did not have to contend with a frantic creature, ready to clutch him about the neck and drag him down in an effort to climb out of the depths.
Scouts fortunately are early in their career instructed in such important things as saving a comrade who may be in peril of drowning. One of the chief benefits of the annual camping-out experience is that it enables every member of the troop not only to learn how to swim and dive and take care of himself in the water, but also to know how to rescue a comrade who has been seized with a cramp, and even resuscitate him after he has been brought safely to the shore.
Had Whistling Smith tried to clutch Hugh, the scout master would have kept him at arm’s length, even though rough measures were required in order to bring this about. Sometimes it even becomes necessary to stun the drowning one so that he can be handled safely, for once he throws his arms around the neck of the would-be rescuer, the chances are that both will perish.
When Hugh came to the surface with his helpless burden, he found Bud swimming aimlessly around, calling his name piteously. The scout seemed to be dreadfully broken up by the sudden terrible catastrophe that had stared them all in the face. Not finding Hugh there when he arrived at the spot, he had jumped to the conclusion that the other must have been seized by the drowning boy and dragged under.
“Oh, Hugh! I thought you were gone!” he managed to gasp, as he suddenly discovered his chum right alongside. “Did he pull you down with him?”
“No, but I had to go down after him,” said the other tersely. “Give me a hand here, Bud, so as to keep his head above water. He’s pretty near gone, I tell you.”
“You better believe I will,” cried the other, his teeth chattering as he spoke. It was not the chill of the water that caused this, but a dreadful fear lest Whistling Smith might never recover, and that blame would be attached to him for having thrown the other into the river for a ducking.
Bud was as eager as any one could be to do all in his power. Indeed, he shouldered more than his share in towing the helpless boy to the shore; and the two scouts were soon wading in the now shallow water toward the spot where their comrades eagerly awaited their coming, ready to lend what aid they could.
In solemn fashion then was Whistling Smith lifted to the bank and laid on the green grass. The cold moon looked down, and showed them that his face was ghastly white.
“Oh, Hugh, you don’t think he’s dead, do you?” asked Arthur Cameron in an awed tone; while poor repentant Bud could not muster up enough courage to utter a single sound. He simply stood there, with his knees secretly knocking together, and prayed ever so fervently deep down in his heart that nothing so terrible should come of this attempt to cure the vandal of his evil ways.
Hugh forgot that he was soaked to the skin. He realized that something must be done immediately to bring back the breath of life to the almost drowned boy, who, if left there to himself, would doubtless never come to his senses again.
“Turn him over on his face, boys,” he said first of all, as he prepared for the task that was before him.
The other scouts, knowing the whole process, extended Smith’s arms as far above his head as possible. Meanwhile Hugh immediately knelt astride the body, a knee on either side, in such a position that he could easily press downward on the short ribs.
Smith had been under the water such a brief time that Hugh did not have any great fear of the result. Still, until there were signs of restored breathing he did not intend to take any chances, and he went about his task as though the other had been at the bottom of the river for several minutes.
Pressing heavily downward upon the boy’s back between the short ribs, Hugh thus forced the breath from his lungs. Then by relieving the pressure, there was more or less of an intake of air. This movement he repeated again and again, taking care not to work too fast, about once every four seconds being the proper thing.
All this while, what water Smith had drawn into his lungs was oozing from his mouth, on account of the position in which he had been placed in the beginning.
Bud Morgan sat there rubbing one of the boy’s legs furiously, as though under the impression that he could thus induce a certain amount of animal heat by friction, and in a small way help things along. Alec was working on the other leg, while the balance of the scouts hung around, ready to carry out with alacrity any order given by Hugh.