FIRST AID

Dale never knew just how he got out of the truck. Gripped by the horror and suddenness of the accident, his mind was a blank until he found himself running over the bridge amid a throng of other hurrying scouts.

A moment later he was pressed close to the unbroken portion of the railing, and, staring down, caught a glimpse of the gray car upturned in the sluggish waters of the stream.

The car had turned turtle, and the great wheels, still spinning slowly, showed above the surface almost to their hubs. The water was roiled and muddy; bubbles and a little steam rose about the forward part of the car. Ten feet away floated a chauffeur's cap. Nearer at hand, a light lap-robe, billowed by the air caught underneath, seemed for an instant to be the clothing of one of the pa.s.sengers. But Dale swiftly understood its real nature, and with a choke he realized that the people were pinned beneath the car. All this came to him in a flash; then, as Mr. Curtis and the foremost of the scouts plunged down into the wide, but shallow, stream, he turned suddenly about and raced back to the truck.

It wasn't the sick sense of horror that moved him. All at once he had remembered the troop first-aid kit, which he himself had carefully stowed away under one of the long seats. They would need it badly, and he did not think any of the others had stopped to get it. There would be plenty of them without him to lift the car.

Panting to the side of the deserted truck, Dale leaped into the back, and, dropping to his knees, tore and dug among the close-packed baggage like a terrier seeking rats. Swiftly he unearthed the square, j.a.panned case and dragged it forth. When he reached the bridge again, the scene had altogether changed. Waist-deep in the water, a line of scouts was holding up the heavy car, whose weight was testified to by their straining muscles and tense att.i.tudes. Already the two pa.s.sengers had been dragged forth. The one whom at first they had taken to be a woman had been carried to the bank, and Dale saw, with a throb of pity, that she was a girl of not more than fifteen. Two scouts supported the limp figure of the man, and as Dale ran around the end of the bridge and down the bank a shout from Sherman Ward announced the discovery of the chauffeur.

"Get him out quickly!" tersely ordered Mr. Curtis. "You and Crancher look after him; you know what to do. Bob and Ranny see to the girl! I'll take care of this man. Court, hustle for the first-aid kit; it's under-- Oh, you've got it! Good boy, Dale. Open it upon the bank and get out the ammonia. Then be ready with some bandages when I call for them. Frank, take one or two fellows and bring six or eight blankets here from the truck."

Under the cool, dominating influence of the scoutmaster the situation speedily resolved itself into one of orderly method. The three patients were stretched out on blankets on the bank, and only those scouts actively interested in bringing them around were allowed in the vicinity.

The others went back to the car and busied themselves with trying to right it--a rather futile undertaking, but it kept them out of the way.

The girl was the first to respond to treatment, but the older man opened his eyes not long afterward. While both were dazed by the shock, they seemed to have escaped with no more serious injuries than bruises. The chauffeur, however, was badly cut about the face and head, and Mr. Curtis himself superintended the work of Ward and Crancher in tying up and bandaging. When this was over he turned back to the other man, who was trying to get on his feet.

"Hadn't you better lie quietly for a bit longer?" he asked quickly.

"You've been rather badly shaken up."

"Is Robert--all right?" asked the other, briefly, as he dropped back to the ground again.

"Practically. He's cut about the head, but we've bandaged him up, and I think he'll be all right until we can get him to a doctor."

The man's puzzled gaze wandered to the little group of scouts standing well to one side and then returned to Mr. Curtis's face. "I don't understand how you came to be on the spot so promptly," he murmured.

"Who--"

"My name is Curtis," explained the scoutmaster, as the other paused. "I'm taking a party of scouts from Hillsgrove down to camp on Great Bay. Our truck wasn't a hundred feet away when you skidded."

The older man raised his eyebrows.

"Scouts!" he repeated. "Boy Scouts?" Again his glance swept the circle, taking in this time the p.r.o.ne figure of the chauffeur, whose head, swathed in workmanlike bandages, rested against a thin roll of blanket.

"I understand," he went on briefly. "I am very greatly indebted to you, Mr. Curtis. May I trouble you?"

He extended his hand, and this time the scoutmaster did not hesitate to help him up. Together the two a.s.sisted the girl to her feet, and Mr.

Curtis reached for a blanket, placing it carefully around her shoulders.

"Thank you," she murmured shyly. She had recovered from her fright, and seemed none the worse for the accident. "Dad, if we could only get a car or something to take us home," she said pluckily.

"Our truck isn't exactly comfortable," suggested Mr. Curtis, "but I fancy it would be the quickest way."

"Decidedly!" agreed the man. "The nearest house is two miles off, and my own place isn't more than double that. But wouldn't it be inconveniencing you?"

"Not a bit! We have plenty of time; and anyway, your man ought to have a doctor's attention as soon as possible. The boys can wait here till the truck comes back."

Without further delay he motioned Ward and Crancher to help the chauffeur and led the way to the truck. Full of interest and curiosity, the others watched them take their places, saw the engine started, and remained staring after the lumbering vehicle until it had pa.s.sed out of sight around the curve. Then began an eager discussion of the whole affair, until finally some one suggested building a fire and drying out their wet clothes. The latter process was still going on when the truck returned, after nearly an hour's absence, and Mr. Curtis leaped out. As he came up to the group he was smiling.

"Who was it, sir?" called several of the scouts at once. "Did you find out?"

"I did." The scoutmaster's smile deepened a little. "You can have three guesses."

There was a moment's puzzled silence; then, "Mr. Thornton?" hazarded Court Parker, flippantly.

"Not quite," laughed Mr. Curtis; "only his brother and niece."

Parker gasped in surprise; so did several others. Then a shout went up, and a volley of questions was poured at the scoutmaster.

"Did you meet Mr. Thornton?"

"Does he still think scouting isn't any good?"

"He failed to say," returned Mr. Curtis, his eyes twinkling. "I hoped, of course, that he'd fall on my neck and declare he was all wrong and that scouting was the most wonderful thing in the world. But apparently he isn't that sort. There's no question, though, that he was favorably impressed, and with this good beginning I trust we can bring him around before camp is over. Pile in now, fellows. We're late already and mustn't waste any more time."

About an hour afterward they rumbled over a bridge, ran along a rather sluggish stream for a quarter of a mile or so, and then entered the little village of Clam Cove, where they found Captain Chalmers and Mr.

Knox, one of the scoutmasters, somewhat impatiently awaiting them. Full of excitement, the boys piled out, gathered up their luggage, and made tracks for the two motor-boats tied to the end of the dock. There was the usual bustle and turmoil of embarking, but no delay, for every one was too anxious to see the camp to waste any time stowing himself away. In ten minutes the entire crowd was disposed of and the ropes cast off.

The bay was over a mile wide at this point. Its waters, stirred into ripples by the freshening breeze, glinted in the rays of the afternoon sun. Against the dark green of the farther sh.o.r.e a string of little islands showed and started a buzz of eager comment and question. About half-way across, the camp itself came suddenly into sight, a trim row of glistening white tents outlined against a background of fir and cedar, which brought forth a shout of delight.

"Gee! Don't it look great? I can hardly believe we're here, can you?"

But there could be no question of the reality of it all as they tumbled into the trailers and went ash.o.r.e in relays. It was a rather small point, jutting out from the larger one into the comparatively quiet waters of the bay. For some distance back the undergrowth had been cleared away, but clumps of bushy cedars and glossy-leaved holly remained to give shade and diversity. Six wall-tents, each with a wooden floor and bunks to accommodate eight boys, were pitched on two sides of a square, at the corner of which stood a larger tent known as headquarters. Here dwelt the governing powers, in the shape of the commissioner and the three scoutmasters, and in front of it, on a rustic pole fluttered the Stars and Stripes. Across the square, among the trees, was a large dining-tent, and behind that a substantial frame cook-shack.

To the new arrivals, hot and dusty from their long ride, it all looked tremendously cool and inviting, and there was a rush to shed uniforms and get into shorts and undershirts. Dale Tompkins found himself placed in a tent with Court Parker, Sanson, Bob Gibson, Trexler, Vedder and Bennie Rhead, with Ranleigh Phelps as leader. The latter's presence rather surprised him. He supposed Ranny would want to be with Torrance and Slater, two of his closest chums. Later, learning that Wesley Becker was tent-leader with that crowd, he decided that the arrangement was due to the camp heads rather than to Ranny's personal preference.

But no matter what the cause, Tompkins was distinctly glad of the other's presence. Though he tried not to build any hopes on what might be merely the result of his own imagination, Dale had a feeling that the fellow he admired and liked in spite of himself hadn't been quite so distant lately. Besides, offish or not, just having Ranny in the same tent seemed, curiously, to bring him nearer, and Dale settled himself in the opposite bunk with an odd thrill of satisfaction.

Long before the hour for the afternoon swim the fellows were in their bathing togs, impatiently awaiting the signal. When it came, there was a regular stampede down to the beach, and in the s.p.a.ce of thirty seconds every scout, save only three of the advance-party, who had been appointed life-savers, was splashing joyously in the water. They enjoyed every minute of that half-hour, and responded to the dressing signal with a reluctance that was considerably tempered by Mr. Reed's announcement of an early supper.

There was no council-fire that night. The crowd that had come down was too sleepy to do more than listen to a brief talk by Captain Chalmers in front of headquarters tent, in which he repeated what Mr. Curtis had told them of the need of refuting Mr. Thornton's peculiar ideas on scouting and briefly explained the camp rules and routine.

Each of the six tents, which were numbered, was to be daily a.s.signed to special duty such as sanitary squad, cook's helpers, commissary, and the like. In addition there would be a daily tent-inspection, and before each meal an inspection of the tables, which corresponded to the tents in number and for which the boys occupying those tents were responsible.

All of these marks would be carefully kept, and the tent having the highest at the end of each week would be the honor tent, to be accorded special privileges besides having its individual marks go toward the winning of a camp emblem. This emblem, the captain explained, would be the highest honor a scout could obtain in camp, and when he had finished, almost every one of his hearers was keenly determined to carry the coveted trophy back to Hillsgrove on the front of his jersey.

It was barely dark when the talk was over, but already more than one tired scout was nodding and the clear notes of taps sent them stumbling tentward. Dale Tompkins lost not a moment in shedding his clothes and crawling in between the blankets. He heard vaguely the complaining tones of Harry Vedder as he climbed into an upper bunk, and the joshing comment of those who watched the diverting process. But even these sounds barely penetrated to his brain. In a moment more he was lost to the world, and in his next conscious moment he was opening his eyes to the dawn of another day.

CHAPTER XXI

LOST MINE HILL

The camp was very still. Each tree and bush stood motionless and distinct in the queer gray light of early morning. Their tent was the last in the row, and lying on his side, Dale could look under the rolled-up flap straight across the sloping, sandy beach, over the smooth, rhythmic lapping water of the bay to the low, spa.r.s.ely wooded line beyond which lay the sea. There was a crisp tang to the air that made him snuggle into his blankets as he drowsily watched the eastern sky turn pink and gold and delicately crimson in the glory of the rising sun.

The boy gave a sigh of content, and his lids drooped sleepily. The next thing he knew reveille was sounding, and he rolled over to meet the glance of Ranny Phelps, sitting tousle-headed on the edge of the opposite bunk.