It was not easily done but Scott finally succeeded with the aid of his pocket handkerchief. By gently shaking Ormand, Greenleaf succeeded in getting most of the water out of his lungs.
“Now turn him on his back,” he said, “and we’ll start him breathing.” The boys obeyed feverishly. Greenleaf then placed a foot on either side of the inert body and grasping a wrist in either hand raised the arms slowly to a perpendicular position and then lowering them onto the chest by flexing the elbows pressed them down firmly. He repeated this motion slowly and regularly while the others obeyed his directions to take off Ormand’s shoes and rub his feet. Five minutes passed in this way—it seemed hours to the anxious boys—and still there was no sign of life.
“Fellows,” Morgan sobbed imploringly, “he can’t be dead, can he?”
Before anyone could answer the question a little shiver passed through Ormand and he heaved a gasping sigh. Morgan and Scott were so delighted that they wanted to throw themselves on him.
“Get out of the way,” Greenleaf commanded sternly, “and heat up a couple of those blankets I put there by the fire.”
Both of them grabbed the blankets, eager to be of some help.
Ormand looked around in a dazed way and groaned, “What’s the matter with my chest, Greeny?” he asked feebly; “it feels as though somebody was sticking a knife in me.”
“You’re all right,” Greenleaf said cheerfully, “but you had a pretty narrow squeak. Be quiet now while we wrap you in these hot blankets.”
Together they rolled Ormand in the hot blankets and Greenleaf fed him spoonfuls of hot tea that he had kept from lunch in his canteen.
For a while it did not seem as though Ormand realized what had happened to him, but after a while he raised his hand slowly to the back of his head and a light broke over his face.