Deering of Deal; Or, The Spirit of the School

by Latta Griswold

  CHAPTER XXI

  SELF-SACRIFICE

  It was a warm muggy night. A pale moon shone dimly through the mists,and the buildings of the school cast long shadows across the campus,giving a weird uncanny effect to the scene, of which the boys wereimmediately conscious as they came out of the Doctor’s study.

  They waited for a moment outside, straining their eyes for a sightof Finch. Suddenly Jimmie discerned a dark figure just disappearingover the brow of the hill. “There he goes,” he cried, “over the hillstowards the beach.”

  “All right—after him!” urged Tony, and set the pace at a rapid trot.Lawrence and Clavering kept close behind.

  In a few moments they had reached the brow of the hill over whichLawrence had seen the figure disappear. They paused for a momentto look about them. Out of range of the lights of the school, themists were less confusing and the moonlight more effective. Tony wassearching the beach with his eyes. “I can’t make out a thing,” he said.“Do you see anything of him, Ned?”

  “Not a thing,” Clavering answered. “Are you sure, Jim, you saw him amoment ago?”

  “Dead sure. Look there! isn’t that him?”

  “Where?”

  “Down by the road—near the marshes.” He pointed eagerly.

  “Yes, yes,” cried Tony. “Come on. He’s no good at running. We ought tocatch him before he reaches the Pond. If he gets to the Woods, there’sno knowing where to find him.”

  They started down the hill at a rapid pace.

  “He would have to go round the Pond to get into the Woods,” saidClavering as they ran. “The ice is rotten; he can’t cross the Pond. Solet’s go to the north and cut him off.”

  “You do that, Ned,” suggested Tony. “Cut in at the farmhouse by thehead of the Pond; Jim and I will keep right on. He may never stop tothink that the ice has gone rotten.”

  “All right. Look, he’s slowing up.” They could see with fairdistinctness.

  Finch, for it was he, had reached the foot of the hill. He paused fora moment, seeming to hesitate between the Old Beach Road and the pathacross the marshes; and apparently chose the latter, for he crossedthe road, and climbed the stone wall. Ignorant that he was so closelyfollowed, he had not been running very fast, so that our friends wererapidly gaining upon him. By the time they had reached the foot ofthe hill, he was only halfway across the marshes; and was forced topick his way, for he was not very familiar with the ground, and washandicapped by his frequent stumbling against a stone. In some placesthe ground was hard and frozen, in others it was wet and muddy.

  “Cut across now to the head of the Pond,” said Tony, as the threeclambered over the stone wall which divided the marshes from the road.“We can catch him all right.”

  Clavering diverged, as Deering suggested, and the other two kept ondirectly in Finch’s track. It was difficult to run over the unevenground, and once Jimmie tripped and fell over a boulder, so that theywere delayed for a moment. The marshes were about two hundred yardswide, and ended at the high bank which had been built up around BeaverPond, which was used as a reservoir. Beyond loomed the dark ridges ofLovel’s Woods, ghostly in the pale misty moonlight.

  As Finch emerged at last from the uneven, reed-choked ground of themarshes, Tony and Jimmie were scarcely fifty yards behind him. Suddenlyhe heard the sound of their pattering feet, and turned and stood stilllike a startled deer to listen. Then, as he made out the dark forms solittle behind him, he ran rapidly up the steep bank of the Pond.

  “Jake, Jake, wait for me!” Tony called. “It’s Deering—wait a second!”

  Finch now on the top of the bank, stopped again. Our two friends out ofbreath, paused at the bottom. Hardly a dozen yards divided them.

  “Wait a second! What’s your hurry?” Tony repeated, starting forwardagain, but at that very moment his foot caught in a loose stone andhe went sprawling, and Jimmie, too late to turn aside, fell on top ofhim. Finch did not move, but waited a moment, while the two pickedthemselves up. No damage was done, but they were windless.

  “Who are you?” Finch called down.

  “It’s me—Tony Deering.”

  Again they started to climb the bank. Finch stooped quickly and pickedup a couple of enormous stones.

  “Stop there!” he cried. “If you come up that bank, I’ll fire this atyour head. I mean it.”

  The two pursuers stopped involuntarily.

  “Throw that rock down. What’s the matter with you?” cried Tony sharply.

  “It don’t make any difference. What are you following me for? What doyou want with me?”

  “I want to know what on earth you are cutting out for like this. What’sthe matter? we’re not going to hurt you.”

  “No, I know you’re not. Mind—don’t take a step, or I’ll fire this atyour head. I’ve chucked the whole thing. I’m clearing out, d’ye hear? Iwon’t be stopped.”

  “Look here, Jake; you’re crazy. Don’t act like——”

  “Maybe I am, but that don’t alter the fact that you are not coming upthat bank without getting this in your head. I won’t be followed.”

  “For goodness’ sake, Jake, listen to reason.” Tony began to advancecautiously.

  “Back!” cried Finch. “Get back, if you’ve anything to say.” And hepoised the rock threateningly.

  Tony stopped a moment, willing to accomplish by persuasion what hewas determined to effect by force if need be. “All right,” he agreed.“We’ll cry a truce for a minute. Don’t be an ass, now—tell me what’sthe trouble and where you are cutting out to.”

  “Who sent you after me?” demanded Finch.

  “Mr. Roylston came——”

  “Pah!” Jake uttered an exclamation of profound disgust.

  “Mr. Roylston,” Tony repeated, “burst into Doctor Forester’s study,and said that you had been abusing him, and that you had lit out someplace, and then he came near falling into a faint. So we started afteryou. This is no way to——”

  “Well, I don’t care whether it’s a way or not,” interrupted Finch. “I’mdone with the school. I’m chucking it.”

  “Well, for goodness’ sake, don’t do it in a fool way like this. Comeback and take your medicine like a man.”

  “I’m tired of taking medicine,” Finch replied bitterly. “I’ve taken allI ever mean to in that school, anyway.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “That’s my affair.”

  “Well, come back, and you can go off decently to-morrow.”

  “No—I’d back down to-morrow like the shivering scared fool I’ve alwaysbeen. To-night, I’m up to it. I’m going now—to-night.”

  “Where?”

  “Oh, I dunno—it don’t make any difference—away from here.”

  “Look here, Jake; that’s a pretty mean way to treat me—to say nothingof the school.”

  “Well, I’m sorry if you feel that way. But I don’t owe the schoolanything.”

  “Yes, you do, a lot; the Doctor—Bill——”

  “Back!” cried Finch sharply. “Don’t try to sneak up on me. Let mealone. Maybe I’ll write and let you know where I am. But I am going tocut out to-night.”

  Tony glanced at Jimmie who was close by his side. “Let’s risk it, Jim,”he whispered, “he can only hit one of us, I reckon.” “All right—heaveahead!” Jimmie responded in a low tone.

  Without wasting further words the two boys began to dash up the steepbank.

  “Get down there!” Finch yelled. “I’m going to throw.” He raised hisarm, but something paralyzed his vicious intention. It seemed to himthat he tried to throw and could not. The big stone fell crashing fromhis hand, and rolled harmlessly down the bank. Finch turned, and with acry sprang toward the icy surface of the Pond. When the boys got to thetop of the bank, he was already a dozen feet out on the Pond.

  “For God’s sake, Jake, don’t try to cross the Pond. The ice is rotten.”Tony and Jimmie were now at the edge of the shore. “The ice is rotten.”Deering repeated, “it can’t ho
ld you.”

  “I’m all right enough, I guess,” Finch called back. “I’m light enough.So long!”

  The two boys stood breathless, watching the retreating figure.

  “What’ll we do,” exclaimed Jimmie, turning a ghastly face to hisfriend. “It won’t hold him.”

  “No, I know it won’t.... Jake! Jake!” Tony called.

  There was no reply. “Quick!” exclaimed Deering, “get those planksthere—we’ll run ‘em along the ice, and have something to hold to if wego in. We’ve got to follow. Quick, Jim!”

  They dashed to a point a few yards up the shore where some heavy plankshad been placed by the skaters early in the season to serve as seatsin putting on and taking off their skates. It was the work of a secondto rip up two of them, and slide them out on the ice in the directionFinch had gone.

  By this time the runaway boy was about twenty yards from shore, hehad stopped for the moment and was watching them curiously. When hesaw them slide the planks out, he started again, heading for theopposite bank from which the dark woods loomed up. They could see himdistinctly, trying to slide, his foot catching every second in the softice.

  Suddenly there was a cry. “There he goes!” cried Jimmie, as Finchdisappeared beneath the ice.

  They pushed breathlessly, incautiously forward, sending the plankson ahead of them. Finch rose in the middle of the great hole thathis plunge had made. They could hear him sputter and see him splashhelpless in the pool of dark water and broken bits of rotten ice.He could swim, and had got to the edge of the circle of water, andwas clutching desperately at the firmer ice. But each time it gaveway, enlarging the hole, but bringing the boy very little nearer hiswould-be rescuers.

  “Stick to it, Jake!” Tony called. “We’ll get you out, if you can holdout. Quick, Jim. Slide the plank out.”

  On they went, fearful every instant that they would be in likepredicament. “There’s no use,” said Jimmie. “If we only had a rope!”

  “Well, we haven’t, and he can’t hold out till we get one.”

  At that very second Finch lost his hold again and for the second timeslipped beneath the icy waters of the Pond. He came up in a moment,splashing again. “Help, help!” he called despairingly.

  “All right—hold out—we’re coming.” They had got the plank well outnow toward the struggling boy. “Hold out, Jake—We’ll get it to you.”

  Inch by inch they got it nearer. But Finch was becoming exhausted.

  “He can’t do it!” cried Jimmie. “Oh, God help us! What shall we do?What shall we do?”

  “Look here,” said Tony. “I am going in after him if he goes down again.Keep the plank out and I can get hold of it, and hang on, maybe, tillyou get back with help. Yell for Ned to stay and help here, if he can.Then run to the farmhouse and get a rope. And for God’s sake, go quick,Jim.”

  “Tony! don’t—you can’t!”

  “I’ve got to. Hold on, Jake,” he cried again. The end of the plank wasat the edge of the hole. Finch clutched at it, but his strength wasgone. “I can’t,” he cried feebly, and sank again.

  “Do as I told you, now,” said Tony. He ripped off his coat and shoesand was sliding forward. As he neared the hole, suddenly the icecrushed beneath his weight, and he sank into the bitter depths. In asecond he was at the surface, and striking out boldly to the spotwhere Finch had gone down. He dived once, got hold of Finch’s body,clasped it, and with terrible effort got to the surface again. Jimmiehad pushed the plank almost within his reach. He clasped it tightly,and managed by its aid to keep his own and Finch’s head above water.Finch seemed lifeless. “A rope, a rope,” called Tony.

  Lawrence was already crawling back to the shore, where Clavering, whohad heard the commotion, had run down to meet him.

  “Finch fell in—Tony’s gone in after him, and he’s got him, and’sclinging to a plank. Do what you can. I’m off for a rope at the RedFarmhouse.”

  Clavering took in the situation at a glance. And as Lawrence began tostart across the marsh, he began to haul a heavier plank out on theice, calling out encouragement to Tony as he did so.

  Jimmie ran like the wind, and at last reached the farmhouse on the edgeof the marshes. “A rope, a rope,” he cried, to the astonished farmerinto whose kitchen he had burst. “There’s two boys drowning in thePond.”

  In ten minutes Jimmie, the farmer and his son, were back at the edge ofthe Pond, with a stout rope which had a noose at the end. “Hurry up!”called Clavering, “he’s holding out.”

  WITH TERRIBLE EFFORT HE GOT TO THE SURFACE AGAIN]

  In a moment they were out on the ice and had thrown the noosed rope toTony, clinging for dear life to the plank. He managed to get it abouthis shoulders, then the four, the two boys on the ice, and the farmerand his son on the shore, began to pull. It was a struggle, but at lasttheir efforts proved successful and Tony, half-dead with the cold andalmost paralyzed from the burden of Finch’s lifeless body, was hauledout on firm ice, and then carried to the shore. There the farmer’s wifehad arrived with blankets and whisky. They swathed the two half-drownedboys in the blankets; the farmer and his son picked up Finch, whom theythought was dead; Lawrence and Clavering did the same for Deering, andin a few moments they were at the Red Farm. Mrs. Simpson, the farmer’swife, had already telephoned for a doctor and to the School.

  Soon Doctor Carter, the school physician, and Doctor Forester himself,arrived on the scene. They gave directions for Tony to be well wrappedin blankets and to be taken at once to the school infirmary, and thenset to work in the effort to restore Finch to consciousness.

  Jimmie drove up to the Infirmary in the farmer’s wagon with Tony, andhelped the nurses get him to bed. Then for two hours he waited forthe news from the farmhouse. It was after eleven when at last a ringcame on the telephone. Jimmie sprang to the receiver. It was DoctorForester, wanting the head nurse. “Finch is just living,” he said. “Wewill bring him up later. Tell the nurse I wish to speak to her.”