Running to Waste: The Story of a Tomboy

by George M. Baker

  CHAPTER VI.

  BECKY’S LAST FROLIC.

  Teddy Sleeper obeyed Becky’s injunction to wait outside, by passinground school-house, and down the hill, to the window at the end, thathe might be in readiness should she desire to signal him during herconfinement. He was just in time to witness her descent. She plumpedinto a cluster of bushes, and for a moment was lost to sight. Even thisterrific leap did not surprise the phlegmatic Teddy, who had such anexalted opinion of his sister’s prowess, that, had she jumped from thesteeple of the church, he would have expected her to pick herself up ascoolly as she did now, emerging from the bushes with ruffled plumage,but without a scratch or bruise.

  “Well, Becky, got out sooner than I thought you would. Did he make youread?”

  “No, he didn’t,” replied Becky, with a sneer. “It will take a smarterteacher than him to make me do what I don’t want to. He’s nothing but aboy.”

  “What will the captain say now, Becky?”

  “I don’t care what he says. Guess he don’t like the teacher any betterthan I do. Come, let’s get away from here; he’ll be after us.”

  “That’s so. Where shall we go?”

  “Where we were going this morning. We’ve got time to ‘shoot the Basin’before dinner.”

  So saying, Becky, whose hasty exit from the school-room had not allowedher to gain possession of her hat, started off bareheaded, followed byTeddy, along the bank of the river, towards the Corner.

  Harry Thompson inherited a streak of the obstinacy which was soapparent in his father. As Becky disappeared from one side of thewindow, he rushed from the other, caught up his hat, unlocked the door,and hastened down the hill, only to see his unruly pupil climbing afence twenty rods away. This convinced him that no bones had beenbroken. But he was not inclined to let the matter drop here; so hereturned to the school-room, made all secure, and then started inpursuit.

  As he moved along the bank of the river, the leading event of themorning was uppermost in his thoughts. The appearance of his father inthe school-room had not been unexpected, and the explanation he hadgiven of his own presence there was perfectly true. Mr. Drinkwater wasill, and had sent him as a substitute. Harry, who was well acquaintedwith the new school-house affair, had, after consultation with hismother, who visited him daily at Mr. Drinkwater’s residence, where hewas domiciled for the express purpose of meeting her, accepted theposition that he might try the temper of his father, and pave the wayto a reconciliation, if that were possible. He was quietly awaiting theconclusion of the captain’s vehement review of “what he had done forhim,” when he expected to have an opportunity to say a word in his owndefence; but Miss Becky’s exhibition of _chalkotype_ art interruptedthe contemplated plea, and sadly disarranged his plans. His onlyconsolation was, that Mr. Drinkwater would not be able to take chargeof the school for several days, and another meeting might be possible.

  Becky, in her turn, occupied a share of his thoughtful attention.He had looked forward with pleasure to the meeting with his littleplaymate, fully expecting that the years which had wrought so muchchange in his character, would have shaped the little maid, of whom hewas so fond,--with her quick wit and active spirit,--into somethingbetter than the hoiden he found her. Her saucy movements, her roughappearance, and her rudeness, had startled him; but, remembering theinfluences by which she was surrounded at home, and the artistic touchdisplayed at the blackboard, he was convinced that in that littlebody were capabilities running to waste, which, trained aright, mightblossom into usefulness. If his good mother only had the trailing ofthis wild vine, it would flourish in fruitfulness, and not cumber theground. It was not yet too late. He would take his mother into hisconfidence.

  Full of thoughts like these, Harry went on, keeping a sharp lookout forthe runaway, until he reached the paper-mill at the Corner. Here hewas informed that the young Sleepers had gone farther up the river’sbank. Undecided whether to go on or retrace his steps, he passed intothe mill, and, meeting his old friend, Mark Small, went over thebuilding with him, viewing the improvements, in which he became so muchinterested that he quite forgot the object of his expedition.

  In the mean time, Becky and Teddy had, after a long tramp, and with nosmall vaulting of fences and climbing of rocks, reached the Basin.

  Rogue’s River, the base of Becky’s future operations, was dammed atthree points. The lower dam was at the fore side, the middle dam justabove the school-house, and the upper dam at the Corner. Here waslocated Small’s paper-mill, not a very extensive affair, but whichemployed a dozen men and as many girls. In the middle of the river,about a quarter of a mile above this mill, was a small island, scarcelytwenty feet in circumference, on which flourished a wild growth ofunproductive bushes, with one solitary sentinel of a tree in theircentre; and above this was the Basin. Into this basin, after a windingflow of ten or twelve miles, increased by several minor streams,the water poured with considerable power. It lay in the form of aheart, so often depicted on valentines, or moulded in sugar for thesweet-toothed. It was about thirty feet from bank to bank, and aboutthe same distance from the point of entrance to the island, whichshooting into it, gave it a resemblance to the emblem of affection.Divided by this island, the water swept along on either side in strong,swift currents. When Harry Thompson, as leader of the boys of Cleverly,had exhausted all the known means of amusement, his daring spiritsuggested a difficult feat, calculated to carry dismay to the heartsof his followers, and cause uneasiness to those parents who had aninterest in the safety of their children. He not only suggested it, buthimself performed it, and succeeded in inducing a few of the boldest tofollow his example. This feat was known as “shooting the Basin.” Intothe winding river he launched a log, of which there were many lyingalong the banks, a mill hand being employed at this point to draw themout of the stream. Upon this he stepped, with a long, narrow strip ofboard to serve as a rudder, with which to guide his craft. The force ofthe stream swiftly carried him into the Basin and towards the island.It was only necessary to keep “her head” straight, and the island wasreached.

  He accomplished the feat, well knowing the danger he incurred; for,had his craft swerved either to the right or left, he would havebeen capsized or carried down the river. Of course there could be noreturning in the same manner. But, to prevent his becoming a RobinsonCrusoe, a tree on the bank was felled so as to bridge the stream fromthe bank to the island; and there it had remained ever since.

  Becky Sleeper, having seen Harry perform this feat, had desired toundertake it; but Harry had strongly objected, and the tomboy, havingaccepted him as a leader, was obliged to postpone the attempt.

  Some recent conversations on old sports between Teddy and herselfhad awakened a desire to attempt this feat, and a trip to the Basinhad already been arranged for Monday, when the school programme waspromulgated.

  The short session, and Becky’s escape, had made the old arrangementpossible; and the young Amazon and her faithful squire were now on thebanks of the upper stream, after a quick march, ready to launch theirbarks upon the tide, careless of consequences.

  “Now, Teddy,” said Becky, “I’ll go first: you must watch me closely,and do just as I do. You ain’t scared--are you?”

  Teddy, to tell the truth, was looking rather anxiously at the rushingstream, the broad basin, and the two foaming channels beyond. Thestream had been swollen by heavy rains, and the feat seemed moredifficult than he had imagined before he set out.

  “N-o, of course not,” he said slowly. “If you go, I’m bound to anyway.”

  “Because, if you are Teddy, you’d better not try it.”

  “I will try, Becky. I ain’t a goin’ to be stumped by a girl.”

  “All right. But don’t you start until I reach the island; and be sureyou keep your log pointed right straight at the tree.”

  While speaking, Becky had rolled a short, stout log into the water,picked up a light slab, and was ready for the dash. Stepping lightlyand quickly upon the log, she pushed it into the m
iddle of the stream,headed it for the tree, and, carefully guiding her craft, shot acrossthe Basin, and struck the island fairly and squarely.

  “Hurrah! I’ve done it Teddy!” she shouted, as she leaped upon the land.

  “All right; I’m a comin’. Hooray!” answered Teddy, as he jumped uponhis log, which darted down the stream, Teddy dancing rather lively toregain his equilibrium, which had sustained a shock by the sudden dartof his log. He was so busily engaged in this manœuvre that he failed tohead his bark as he should, and, instead of going straight across theBasin, he swept to the right.

  “Teddy, Teddy, what are you about?” shouted Becky. “Turn her head!quick, quick!”

  But Teddy was frightened; his log was rolling over and over, and hedropped his rudder, fell upon the log, and clasped it, with his legsin the water, and round into the swifter of the two currents it went,very near the island. Seeing his danger, Becky ran to the edge of theisland, and attempted to rescue him. She leaned far over, lost herbalance, and fell into the stream. Bungling Teddy clutched the bushesas he passed, let the log go, and pulled himself to land; but Becky wasswept past the island, and went floating down the river.

  Teddy, seeing the danger of his sister, shouted lustily for help. Twomen, at work near the bank, ran down to the water, saw the strugglinggirl, but could afford no assistance; but they started off at a swiftpace for the mill. Becky was an excellent swimmer; she was not a bitfrightened, but struck out bravely in a vain attempt to reach the bank.The stream was strong and swift, and bore her on faster and fastertowards the dam. Skillfully she kept her head above water, and struckout to reach Teddy’s log, which was just ahead of her. Fast as shewent, the men on the shore flew faster still. It was a case of life anddeath. They reached the mill.

  “Help, help! there’s a girl in the water!”

  Men came running out, women ran to the windows; there was wildcommotion, but no attempt at rescue.

  “We can’t help her; she must go over the dam!”

  “Throw her a rope--it’s her only chance!”

  “Mighty slim chance: she’s too much frightened to catch it. She can’tbe saved!”

  “She can be saved! Quick! a long, stout rope!”

  It was a commanding voice that spoke, a commanding form that steppedforward--the school-master, Harry Thompson. Quickly a rope was placedin his hand.

  “Now, three good, strong fellows, follow me!”

  He threw off his coat, ran along the bank, winding the rope aroundhis body, and tying it as he ran. Becky was coming down swiftly, whenthe roar of the dam reached her ears. For the first time she felt herdanger. Instantly all power of exertion forsook her. The terrible dam!the jagged rocks beneath! There was death in the thought, and a shrillscream rang over the water.

  “Help, help! Don’t let me drown! don’t let me go over the dam!”

  “Courage, Becky, courage. You shall be saved.”

  She recognized the voice, even in her agony. “O, Harry, Harry! save me,save me!”

  Still on and on she swept, and the roar of the dam grew louder andlouder. It seemed to sound in her ears like thunder.

  “Now, quick, boys, quick! Give me plenty of rope, and hold on strong!”

  Harry Thompson kicked off his shoes and threw away his hat. Beckywas moving towards him, but ten feet from the bank. He measured thedistance with his eye, stepped back a few paces, then ran quickly,and leaped into the water. The best jumper in the county had wellcalculated his distance. He struck the water close beside Becky. Heclasped her quick, she threw her arms about his neck with a scream ofjoy, and both sank beneath the water.

  Then the good, strong fellows pulled with a will, and in a moment Beckyand her preserver were safe on the bank. Such a shout as the goodfellows sent up, then such a chorus of shouts as the people at the milljoined to theirs, was never before heard in Cleverly.

  But the chorus of rejoicing was unheard by Becky, who lay upon thebank insensible. The girls from the mill gathered about her, rubbedher hands, bathed her temples, and used all the customary means ofrestoration; but yet she lay there cold and still.

  Harry became alarmed. She must be taken home at once.

  “Small, bring your wagon--quick! Send a man for the doctor--quick!”

  Small’s team was standing at the mill door. In a few moments Harry wasin the wagon, with Becky in his arms, and one of the “good fellows” wasracing down the road, horseback, for the doctor.

  Mrs. Sleeper, weak and dispirited, was in the kitchen, standing atthe table, washing the dinner dishes; Aunt Hulda, nursing an attack oflumbago, was groaning at the fireside. A wagon drove swiftly into theyard, a moment, and Harry Thompson stood in the doorway, bearing theinsensible form of Becky.

  “Mrs. Sleeper, quick! your camphor bottle!”

  Mrs. Sleeper dropped the dish in her hands; her eyes glared at thehelpless girl. Her lips parted, but no sound came from them. Then hereyes closed, her hands clutched the air, and she fell heavily to thefloor. Aunt Hulda ran to her and raised her head.

  “Delia Sleeper, what on airth ails you?--Here, you, Henry Thompson,take that girl into the settin’ room. That’s just like youThompsons--always a scarin’ folks to death.--Delia, Delia! what ailsyou?”

  Aunt Hulda rubbed her, and sprinkled water over her, scolding all thewhile. Harry carried Becky to the sitting-room, and laid her uponthe lounge. As he did so, a sigh, and the opening of her eyes, gaveassurance of returning animation; and when, in a few minutes, Dr. Allenentered, there was no occasion for his services, for Becky was sittingup, and inquiring for Teddy, who at that moment was coming down theroad, between the mill and the school-house, feeling very wet and mean.

  Mrs. Sleeper was carried to her room, and laid upon the bed. Dr. Allen,finding Becky so comfortable, made the former a visit.

  “Doctor, what ails her? Is it stericks?”

  The doctor shook his head.

  “Worse than that, worse than that!”

  “You don’t say so! Goodness gracious! it’s purrellysis.”

  The doctor nodded. Aunt Hulda was right. The sudden shock, upon thelong and weary straining for the ever-distant ship, had snapped thecords of action, and left her powerless.