CHAPTER XXI—How It Happened
Jack Crandall, Arthur Mitchell and Gerald Hume were members of the Stag Patrol, and the age of each was slightly more than fourteen years. Jack was tall, muscular and had an inclination to stoop, due probably to his rapid growth. He was somewhat reserved by nature, but his good disposition made him one of the most popular of the Boy Scouts. What distinguished him among his comrades was his fondness for bird lore. He had been dubbed the official ornithologist and his note books, which he had filled with “pointers” picked up on his excursions in the woods at home, were of the most interesting nature. Sometimes by invitation of Scout Master Hall, he read from them in the evening when the company gathered around the camp fire for reports and gossip. He not only investigated, but studied text books on the subject. No intelligent lad can follow such a course without becoming well informed in any branch of knowledge. It gave him pleasure to answer questions, of which many were asked, and it was universally agreed that he was one of the most valuable members of the troop that was spending the month of August in the woods of southern Maine.
All that I have to tell about Jack was to his credit. He had no brothers and but one sister, two years younger than himself. His mother was a widow in straitened circumstances, who would have had a hard time to get on, but for the cheerful help of Jack, who loved her and Maggie with a devotion that could not be surpassed. One fact will tell more than could be given in a dozen paragraphs. He wrote a letter to his mother, with a message inclosed to his sister, on every day he was absent from home. Since the wagon with supplies labored through the forest only twice a week, the dear ones had the pleasure of receiving two or three of his cheery missives by the same mail, after waiting several days for them. I need not say that those at home were equally faithful.
Now on the afternoon following the visit of little “Sunbeam” to the bungalow on the shore of Gosling Lake, more than half the boys, as you may remember, divided into small parties and set off on a ramble through the wilderness. The three whom I have named took a southern course which led them into a lonely section and expected to be absent all the afternoon. Five minutes after starting they were out of sight of their friends.
You would not be interested in a detailed account of what was done during most of the afternoon. Later on I may have something to tell you of the birds found in that part of our country.
No boy or man pays much attention to the passage of the hours when absorbed in a pleasant task. The three youths were surprised when the approaching twilight warned them that the long summer day was drawing to a close.
“Gee!” exclaimed Gerald Hume; “it’s time we hiked for home.”
Jack was the only one who carried a watch. It was a cheap pattern but a good one. He drew it out and looked at it.
“It is ten minutes to seven. To-day is Monday, the fifth of August, and the sun sets in sixteen minutes past seven. It will be dark when we get to headquarters.”
“How far do you think it is?”
“We have followed such an aimless course that it is hard to tell, but it must be a mile at least; what do you think, Arthur?”
“I should say it is a good deal more than that, but what’s the odds? We’re not likely to meet any Indians or to run afoul any wild beasts.”
“We must keep to the right course, however,” said Gerald, “or we shall have to camp out.”
“It won’t hurt us if we do, even when we have made no preparations,” replied Jack, who added:
“We went south from the lake, but the points of the compass are all twisted.”
“It would do us no good if they weren’t, for we haven’t an instrument with us.”
“Yes; we have,” remarked Jack, who still held his watch in hand. “Have you forgotten that a watch is a good compass when the sun is shining?”
“Mr. Hall showed us while we were on our way here,” laughed Arthur, “but I have forgotten what he said.”
“So have I,” added Gerald.
“Luckily, I have had to test it before, and after seeing me use that means I know you will remember it.”
Jack pointed the hour hand to the sun already low in the horizon and explained:
“If it were forenoon, half way between the hour hand and noon is due south. But it is afternoon and I must reckon half way backward. Notice,—I point the hour hand at a fraction before seven. Now divide the distance between that point and the figure 12 into halves and take the midway point: there you are—that indicates south.”
“Suppose the sun wasn’t shining, Jack?”
“If the clouds were too dense to allow you to locate the sun, your watch would be useless as a compass, but that isn’t often the case. You should stand in the open where no shadow falls upon you, and hold your knife point upright on your watch dial. Almost always you can see a dim shadow which shows where the sun is.”
“But,” inquired Arthur with a laugh; “now that we know the points of the compass what good will it do us?”
Gerald took it upon himself to answer:
“If we went south from the lake all we have to do is to go north to get back to it.”
“Yes, ‘if’ we did that, but we have paid no attention to our course and may be east or west of the bungalow.”
Jack interposed with the good sense which rarely forsook him:
“While it is impossible that we should have held a direct southern line, I believe we nearly did so and by going north we shall not stray far from the right path. At any rate, we have only to try it. If we get lost we can yell for help.”
Jack took the lead, but had not gone a hundred yards when he stopped with an exclamation:
“Look at that!”
He pointed to the upper branches of a tall pine, betraying an excitement that was new to him. His companions followed the direction of the extended finger.
“I don’t see anything but a lot of branches,” replied Gerald, after a brief scrutiny.
“Nor do I,” added Arthur.
“Are you blind? On that limb that puts out to the right is a bird’s nest.”
“Well, what of it? This isn’t nesting time; there are no birds there now,” said Arthur after he had located the dark bunch of twigs and grass, well out on a long slender branch.
“I must have a look at the nest; it is a different pattern from any I have seen since coming to Maine.”
“Well, take your look and we’ll pass on.”
“That won’t do; I must have a peep inside.”
And to the astonishment of his companions, Jack flung aside the staff he had been carrying and began climbing the long, smooth trunk. To Gerald and Arthur nothing could have been more foolish, but they understood their friend too well to object.
“Did you ever see any one like him?” asked the former disgustedly.
All the two could do was to watch their chum as he shinned up the tree with the nimbleness of a sailor climbing a ship’s mast without help of rope or stay.
Jack had an ascent of fully twenty-five feet before he reached the first limb. The object which drew him upward like a magnet attracting a bit of iron was several feet higher, but the young athlete did not hesitate. It was still so light that he could be plainly seen as he began making his way along the frail support, which bent under his weight.
“I hope Jack knows enough not to run too much risk,” remarked Gerald with a thrill of misgiving; “pine wood has a way of breaking when you don’t expect it.”
“He has had enough experience to remember that.”
“But he is so set on examining that old nest that he’s likely to forget—Gracious!”
Both gasped, for while the words were in Gerald’s mouth, the limb along which Jack Crandall was making his way snapped off like a pipe stem. He was seen to throw out his arms in an instinctive effort to save himself, but there was nothing he could seize and he shot downward, without having time to straighten his body. He fell sideways, striking the ground with a violent thump which caused his hat to fly off and forced a cry of pain from him. Although stunned by the shock, he instantly tried to rise, only to fall back with a groan.
Gerald and Arthur ran forward and bent over him.
“Are you much hurt, Jack?” they asked.
“I’m afraid so; look out; don’t try to lift me.”
With a gasp of pitying fright, both boys saw that Jack’s right limb below the knee was bent midway at a sharp angle. There could be no mistaking what that meant.
“Your leg is broken!” exclaimed Gerald.
“Thank God it isn’t my neck!” replied the brave sufferer.
That was sound Christian philosophy. How true it is that there are few afflictions in this life that couldn’t be worse.
Jack with help rose on one elbow and looked at his leg. Its appearance showed that both the tibia and the fibula had been snapped apart, for the foot lay limp at an angle from the upper portion that it never could have assumed if sound.
Arthur dropped down by him in a twinkling and took off the legging. The skin had not been broken, but the sight of the jagged points pressing against it caused a momentary faintness on the part of the two, from which they quickly rallied.
“Don’t be scared, boys,” said Jack; “it hurts like all creation and I don’t think I shall climb many more trees for a few weeks to come.”
“Well, Gerald, let’s get down to business,” said Arthur briskly.
“Yes,” remarked Jack with a smile, “you’ve got a big baby on your hands; and if we don’t find our way back to camp it won’t prove the jolliest night of my life.”
“You can give us help.”
“How?”
“Hold us to a straight course.”
“That is, you wish me to boss the job; I’ll try to do my duty.”
This is what the two Boy Scouts now did, as deftly and surely as if they had rehearsed the act, though it was the first time they had undertaken such a duty:
Gerald and Arthur took off their coats, turned the sleeves inside out and placed them on the ground with their lower sides touching each other. Gerald first compared the staff he had been carrying with Jack’s which lay near, and finding the latter the stronger passed it through the sleeves on one side and flung away his own staff, while Arthur shoved his through the sleeves of his own coat. The two garments were then buttoned with the button side down and the stretcher was ready.
Jack, who was striving to repress all signs of the anguish he suffered, was then deposited gently on the support, one of his friends between and at either end of the two handles. As they stepped off, they adopted a precaution which is worth remembering, should you ever be called upon to act the good Samaritan in similar circumstances. Gerald first reached out with his right foot, observing which Arthur at the same moment advanced his left. They were careful thus to keep out of step, thereby saving the patient from the jouncing that otherwise would have been added to his distress.
The carriers could not know whether Jack was suffering much or little or not at all, for he was by far the most cheerful of the three. They managed to roll a part of the garments so as to stuff them under his head and thereby partly raise it. This gave him a view of the woods directly in front, of which knowledge he made good use.
“Gee!” he called to Gerald who was acting as the leader; “bear a little more to the right.”
The lad obeyed and a few minutes later Jack called:
“Haw! not so much—Gee a little—that’s it; keep it up.”
“I think it would be well if I cut a gad for you,” suggested Arthur from the rear; “you can whack him on the side you wish him to turn.”
“It would be a good idea,” replied Jack, “but I’ll give him a chance to save himself by doing what I order him to do. If he refuses, it will be at his peril.”
“I’ll do my best,” Gerald meekly called back.
All three showed a sturdy readiness that did them credit. It cannot be doubted that Jack Crandall was suffering keenly, but he would have collapsed before letting his companions know it, while they on their part gave no hint of the discouraging prospect before them. Each youth had to carry a dead weight of sixty pounds or more. That of itself was of small moment, for they could rest whenever they chose, but night was at hand and they were not only a good way from camp but could not tell when they would reach it. As has already been said, there was nothing to frighten them in the prospect of spending the night in the woods, during dog days, even if the climate in southern Maine is cool, at least after the sun goes down.
But their anxiety was for their chum with the broken leg. That ought to receive surgical attention with the least possible delay. Fortunately a skilful physician was within call from the clubhouse, but when could the latter be reached, and what would happen to Jack if they should go hopelessly astray?
It was this fear which caused the bearers distress. They would have discussed the important question, but could not well talk over the head of the sufferer, so they held their peace and strode on.
“You mustn’t tire yourselves out,” protested Jack from his couch; “you have traveled far enough for a good rest.”
“What do you say, Art?” asked Gerald.
“This is just fun; it beats baseball.”
“And will beat you if you try to keep it up. I insist that you stop awhile; don’t drop me like a hot potato though, but gently as it were.”
The support was slowly lowered and the bearers mopped their foreheads.
“How are you feeling, Jack?” asked Gerald.
“I could feel a good deal worse and also somewhat better.”
“You bear it like a hero; now I hope that we shall not miss the bungalow, for it won’t be any fun for you to stay out doors till morning.”
“We’re not going to miss the house,” replied Jack so decisively that his friends looked questioningly at him.
“What makes you positive of that point?”
“We hit the right course; don’t you recognize signs about you?”
“No, and I don’t believe you do.”
“Do you remember that big white oak with the gnarled limb that put out a short distance from the base of the trunk?”
“You mean the knot that you said would bring a good price from any one of the ship builders at Bath?” asked Gerald in turn.
“Yes.”
“It is not too dark for you to see a little way. Just to the left is a similar white oak; do you notice it?”
The two scrutinized the huge tree and Arthur exclaimed:
“It looks exactly like it.”
“Of course, for it is the same one.”
When the tree was examined more closely further doubt was removed.
“What a piece of good fortune! Why, we saw that only a few minutes after leaving home.”
“Of course; we are within a hundred yards of headquarters.”
“Thank Providence; we dared not hope it. Jack, you know more about woodcraft than we do.”
“Which isn’t saying much,” replied Jack, catching the cheerful spirits of his friends, who now picked him up as tenderly as before, and did not pause until they emerged from the woods and made their way to the porch, where they set down their burden and Gerald hurried to make known the mishap. By that time night had fully come and all the boys were inside enjoying the society of Sunbeam, as she sat and chatted on the knee of Mike Murphy. Pausing in the door, Arthur beckoned to Scout Master Hall, who excused himself and hastened outside. There when told the truth, he bent over Jack, took his hand and expressed his sympathy.
“We must get word to Dr. Spellman at once,” said the leader; “I will borrow Gordon Calhoun’s revolver and signal to him. Meanwhile, take Jack inside.”
“Hadn’t you better wait, so as not to scare the little girl?” was the thoughtful question of the patient.
“There is nothing to scare her; carry him in, boys.”
Jack was carefully taken through the opened door and deposited on the nearest bunk. A few moments were all that was necessary to explain the mishap to the party. Sunbeam or Stubby or Ruth, as you prefer, was full of tender sympathy, but the full extent of the lad’s injuries was kept from her, and a few minutes later she was laid in her couch, as has been related, and almost immediately she closed her eyes.
Mike asked for the revolver, and walking to the edge of the lake pointed it upward and discharged three more chambers. He went back into the house where he cheered Jack by his waggery for some time. Then he reloaded the weapon and again moved to the water’s edge, with the intention of calling the physician a third time. Before doing so, he listened. Through the stillness he heard the dip of a paddle and knew the doctor was hurrying to the clubhouse, eager to do what he could for whoever needed his help.
Alvin and Chester followed Mike and stood by his side. There was no moon as yet in the sky, but the stars gleamed brilliantly and they could see for a considerable distance over the placid surface of the beautiful sheet of water. The sound of the paddle grew more distinct, and by and by a swiftly approaching canoe took form in the obscurity.
Not until the voice of the wife broke upon the quiet did it occur to any one of the boys that the physician was likely to associate the call with his own child. And yet what was more natural than that he should do so?
“Is anything the matter with Ruth?” asked the mother, the instant she caught the dim outlines of the boys.
“Nothing at all,” replied Alvin; “she is in her bed and asleep.”
“Thank heaven!” was the grateful exclamation as the woman sank back and clasped her hands. Her husband had held the paddle suspended until he heard the reply. Now he dipped the implement deep and with a couple of vigorous strokes sent the craft with a bump against the beach.
“What’s the trouble, Alvin?” he asked while helping his wife out and drawing the canoe a little way up the bank.
“One of the boys fell out of a tree this afternoon and broke his leg.”
“I am sorry to hear that; I shan’t need my instruments,” he remarked in the cool business tone of the professional man; “lead the way, boys.”
Scout Master Hall and several of the boys had come out on the porch and all welcomed the physician and his wife.
“Business first and pleasure afterward,” remarked the medical man as he stepped across the threshold and went to the bunk in which Jack Crandall had been lifted. The blazing wood in the fireplace and the bright lamp overhead filled the room with light as bright as day. Jack looked up and smiled, with an apology for the trouble he was causing the doctor, who without replying to his words, made a quick but thorough examination of the hurt.
“Beautiful! beautiful!” he exclaimed; “it is one of the most beautiful fractures I ever saw.”
It sounded odd, but it was professional.