CHAPTER XI
_In which John Rieler of Campion College, greatly daring, goes swimming alone, finds a companion, and acts in such a manner as to bring to Campion College the strangest, oddest boy visitor that ever entered its portals._
It was thirteen minutes to ten on the following morning when MasterJohn Rieler of Campion College, second-year high, discovered that heearnestly desired to be excused from the classroom. It was a very warmday for September, the sun was shining with midsummer fervor, and JohnRieler, who had spent the vacation on the banks of the Miami—whenever,that is, he did not happen to be between the banks—felt surging withinhim the call of the water. John, a smiling, good-natured native ofCincinnati, was in summer months apparently more at home in the waterthan on the land. One of the anxieties of his parents in vacation timewas to see that he did not swim too much, to the certain danger of hisstill unformed constitution.
For various reasons, connected more or less with the discipline ofCampion College, John had had no swim since his arrival seven daysbefore. He was filled with a mad desire to kick and splash. And so, atthirteen minutes to ten, he held up the hand of entreaty, endeavoring atthe same time to look ill and gloomy.
John had figured out everything. As recess was at ten o’clock, theteacher would not call him to account for failing to return. The recesslasted fifteen minutes, giving the boy twenty-eight minutes to go to theriver, take a morning splash and return. Of course, there were risks;but in John’s mind the risks were well worth taking.
The boy, on receiving permission, was quick to make his way down thestairs of the classroom building, and, turning to the back of the smallboys’ department and hugging the wall closely, he reached the shadedavenue leading from Church Street up to Campion College. Along thisavenue was a cement sidewalk bordered on one side by a line of youngpoplars and on the other, below a terrace of some three or four feet, byanother of ancient and umbrageous box-elders. The cement walk was tooconspicuous; the graded road beside it equally so. Master John Rieler,therefore, wisely chose the abandoned path below; and doubling himselfup, so as to escape the attention of the Brother in the garden, ranswiftly on. Church Street, leading to the city of Prairie du Chien, waspassed in safety. The worst was over. An open road, really an abandonedstreet, left to itself by the march of the city northward, the Chicago,Milwaukee, and St. Paul track, and then, within a few yards, the bank ofthe inviting Mississippi.
A boat-landing, projecting quite a distance into the river, the propertyof the Jesuit Fathers at Campion, was awaiting the daring youth fromwhich to dive.
He was at the further end of it in a trice, kicked off his shoes andstockings, and with the amazing rapidity of small boys when so inclined,was disrobed in almost the time it takes to tell it. With the slightdelay of making a hurried but fervent sign of the cross, John took aheader, rose, struck out vigorously, and having reached a distancemidway between the landing and Campion Island, threw himself contentedlyon his back and floated in an ecstasy of satisfaction.
“Ah!” he sighed, “how I wish I could stay right here till dinner time.”
Presently he turned over quietly, and as his ears rose above the water,he thought he heard a splash a little above him. Beating with hands andfeet, he raised himself as high as he could out of the water and lookedin the direction whence the sound came.
Was that a hand—two hands—was it the head of a swimmer? John waspuzzled. Even as he looked, the supposed head seemed to disappear. Johnswam towards the spot. As he drew near—there could be no mistake thattime—a human head rose to the surface and almost at once disappearedagain! Frantically John swam forward. As he came close to the placewhere the head disappeared, a slight bubbling on the water’s surfacecaught his eye. Throwing himself forward with one almost super-humanstroke, John reached down with his foremost hand—the right—and caughtan arm. Up there came to the surface the face of a boy, lips ghastlyblue, face deathly pale, corn-flower blue eyes that opened for a momentand, even as the tongue gasped out, “Help me, for God’s sake,” closedagain.
Putting his hand under the body of the unresisting boy, John Rieler madefor the shore. It was an easy rescue. The boy on his arm was unconsciousand John Rieler was as much at home in the water as it is possible forany creature short of the amphibious to be.
On getting the boy to land, he lifted him upon the wooden platform ofthe pier, turned him on his back, raised him up by the feet, andsatisfied that the strangers lungs were not filled with water, rolledhim over face upward and caught him vigorously on both sides between theribs.
“Stop your tickling, Jock,” came a weak voice. Eyes of blue, much bluerthan the swimming suit of their owner, opened and shut again.
“Say, you’re not dead, are you?”
“Of course, I’m dead,” replied the blue-eyed one sitting up. “If Iweren’t, do you think I’d be talking to you?”
“I—I—thought you were drowned.”
“Well, I’m not. How did I get here?”
“I fished you out. You were bobbing up and down there, and I justmanaged to get you as you went under for the last time, I suppose. Howdo you feel now?”
“Hungry,” said the other, arising.
“Who are you anyhow?”
“I’m Clarence Esmond. Say, I’m starving!” And Clarence took a few stepswith some difficulty.
John Rieler thought quickly, dressing rapidly as he did so.
“I’ll tell you what,” he said earnestly. “You come with me till we getto Campion College. I’d like to bring you in myself; but I don’t see howI can do it without getting into trouble. Come on now; you’re cold,aren’t you?”
“Numb to the bone.”
“Here take my coat till we get to the College. There—that’ll warm youup some. Can you run?”
“I can try.”
“That’ll warm you some more.” With this John Rieler put his arm aboutClarence and swept him up the shore.
Clarence was exhausted; but the strong arm of the boy held him securelyand so the twain made their way at a brisk trot.
“Now, look here,” said Rieler as they reached the end of the street, andstood within a few feet of the Campion faculty residence, “you give methat coat; I’m going in by the back way. You walk straight on to whereyou see those steps. You go up those steps and ring the bell. TheBrother will come, and you just tell him you’re hungry and you want tosee the Rector. Good-bye. Don’t tell anyone you saw me. My name’s JohnRieler. Now be sure and do just what I tell you and keep mum.”
“Thank you. I—I can’t talk. Good-bye.”
When the Brother-porter came to the door in response to the bell amoment later, he jumped back at sight of the apparition in the blueswimming suit.
“_Ach Himmel!_” he exclaimed, clasping his hands. The Brother was not anIrishman.
“Please, sir, I’m hungry and I want to see the Rector.”
“Come—this way.”
Following his startled and disturbed guide, Clarence was escorted intothe parlor.
“Sit down while I go for the Rector,” and saying something that soundedlike “_Grosser Gott_,” the Brother left Clarence shivering in a chairand surveying his new surroundings.
“Oh, Father Rector,” cried the porter as he opened the President’s door,“there’s a boy in the parlor who’s hungry and wants to see you.”
The Reverend Rector, busy with the morning’s mail, raised his head andsaid:
“A new pupil, I suppose.”
“I—I—think not,” answered the Brother, fidgeting upon his feet.
“Why, what are you so excited about?”
“He—he’s dressed only in a swimming suit. It’s blue.”
“Oh, he is. Well, at any rate,” said the Rector, inscrutable of face,“he’s brought his trunks along.”
“No, Father, he’s brought nothing but his swimming suit.”
“Exactly; he’s brought his trunks along. Think about it, Brother, andyou’l
l see I’m right.”
The good Brother has thought about it many a time since that day. Hedoes not see it yet.
When, a few moments later, the President of Campion College stepped intothe parlor, he, too, prepared though he had been, was startled beyondmeasure. He did not, however, manifest any sign of his feelings. Longexperience in boarding schools had given him the power of preservingstoical immobility under circumstances no matter how extraordinary.
It was not, as he had expected, a boy in a bathing suit that confrontedhis gaze, but a creature wrapped from head to foot, Indian-like, in atable covering, predominantly red, appropriated, as was evident, fromthe center-table of the parlor.
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