The Edward S. Ellis Megapack

by Edward S. Ellis

  “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 fortu
ne! 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.

  CHAPTER XXII

  Sunshine

  Amid the tense stillness, with the group of sympathetic spectators motionless and attentive, the surgeon performed his duty with the deftness and skill of long experience. Jack compressed his lips, when his attendant said with cheerful gentleness:

  “Brace yourself; it will be over in a minute.”

  The adjustment of the fractured bones caused shooting pangs of pain, but the patient did not flinch.

  “Good for you!” said the doctor; “you are a hero; the worst is over.”

  Then followed the application of splints and bandages and the little niceties of a scientific operation. The doctor, making sure everything was right, drew down the coverlet over the shapeless leg and sat back in his chair, and then Mike Murphy spoke with the gravity of an owl:

  “Docther, ye were just saying that one broken leg looks beautiful; then two broken legs would look twice as purty; so why not bust t’other leg, so Jack will have a pair of ’em?”

  The astounding question broke the spell that had weighed down all. Dr. Spellman laughed, Scout Master Hall chuckled, and every Boy Scout grinned appreciatively, excepting of course the youth who had asked the amazing question. His freckled countenance could not have looked graver had the occasion been a funeral.

  “I’m afeard me wisdom is throwed away, as Tim Flanagan said whin he suggisted to his taycher that he tie tails to the boys the better to yank ’em back whin they tried to jump out the windys.”

  Even Jack Crandall’s white face lighted up at the whimsicalities of the irrepressible wag. Dr. Spellman said:

  “I think I shall appoint you nurse, Mike; you will do Jack more good than I can by any further services.”

  “It will give me plisure, docther,—more I reckon than it will Jack.”

  The physician issued his final directions. Having set the leg, all subsequent work must be done by nature, which was sure to do it well. The bones would speedily knit and though the patient would have to suffer more or less pain during the process, the progress would be steady. All the lad had to do was “suffer and be strong,” which as has been said is only a poetical variation of the homely injunction “grin and bear it.”

  “How long shall I have to lie here?” asked Jack.

  “If all goes well—and there is no reason why it should not—you will be promenading along Gosling Lake on crutches in three weeks. After that your recovery will be rapid.”

  “You would not advise our sending him home?” asked Scout Master Hall, who could have answered the question himself.

  “Nothing could be more ill-advised. It would torture him, even if he were carried on a litter over the rough road to the highway and thence to Boothbay Harbor, with the long railway or steamboat journey home. There is no better place in the world for him than right here in this pure air, surrounded by friends ready to do all they can for his comfort and to administer to his every want. I shall drop in tomorrow and keep track of my Jack.”

  The doctor shook hands with the lad, who thanked him for his kindness. Then husband and wife passed to the couch where their little one was sleeping. She lay on one dimpled arm, her gentle breath issuing from the rosy lips without the slightest sound. Each parent leaned over and touched his and her lips to the pink cheek. Ruth opened her eyes, recognized them and, childlike, threw her arms around the neck of her mother and asked to be taken home.

  “I don’t see how I consented to part with you for one night,” replied the parent; “you shall go with us.” So her clothing was donned, and, lifting the little one in his arms, the father bade his friends good night and carried her down to the waiting canoe.

  The Boy Scouts gave a fine exhibition of the spirit which dominates that admirable organization. There was not one of them who was not eager to do everything in his power for the comfort of the member who had suffered his mishap. Scout Master Hall arranged that two of them should be on watch all the time, he
insisting upon taking his turn, and that he should be called, if asleep, should there seem to be a necessity for it. They were to watch during periods of two hours each, thus making sure of their wakefulness. This was to be the rule night and day. The little, round alarm clock that the Scout Master had brought with him sat on the mantel over the fireplace, where the hands and figures showed in the yellow illumination of lamp and hearth fire.

  Mike and Alvin assumed guard from nine to eleven, when they were to be succeeded by Chester and Gerald for the same period, and so on. In the bigness of his heart, Mike proposed that when the hour hand had crept close to the characters “XI,” they should stop the clock and continue on duty till daylight. While Alvin was quite willing, he decided it was better to obey in spirit and letter the instructions of their leader.

  On the morrow, Jack’s face was flushed and he showed signs of a fever, but the doctor, when he arrived early in the day, assured his friends that that was to be expected and was not alarming. The leg was examined and pronounced in the best condition possible. The skilled cooks, of whom there were several in the troop, prepared the dishes prescribed by the doctor and filled the room with hope and cheerfulness.

  “The conditions could not be more favorable,” said the medical man; “the weather is perfect, the air full of ozone, the water as pure as that at Poland Springs or even Squirrel Island, which goes Poland one degree better, and the companionship of the boys helps to make the situation ideal for a convalescing patient. Do you think of sending for his friends?”

  “Far from it; Jack has a sister and widowed mother; he would not alarm them for the world; they will never know what has befallen him until he returns home.”

  It may as well be said that this took place. Jack wrote to his loved ones every day and never were his letters more cheerful. He told them of the fragrant leafy woods, the song birds, the crystalline lake, the invigorating air, his keen appetite and nutritious food, and above all the genial companionship of the Boy Scouts.