Four in Camp: A Story of Summer Adventures in the New Hampshire Woods

by Ralph Henry Barbour

  CHAPTER IV

  RELATES HOW NELSON BORROWED A LEAF FROM BOB, AND HOW DAN CRIED QUITS

  There wasn’t much about gas-engines that Nelson didn’t know, for eversince he was old enough to walk his family had spent a portion at leastof every summer at the shore, and of late years a gasoline-launch hadbeen a feature of the vacation program. To be sure, a power-dory wasrather a trifling thing after a thirty-six-foot cruising-launch, andthe engine left much to be desired, but it got along pretty well, andNelson wished he didn’t have to return to camp, but might turn thedory’s head up the lake and go cruising. But perhaps they would let himtake the dory some other time. Tom Ferris was on the pier when the boatcame within easy hail.

  “Where’s Dan?” he asked.

  “Coming back by road.”

  “_Road?_”

  “Yes; he decided to walk.”

  “What for?” asked Tom incredulously.

  Nelson shook his head. “Exercise, I guess,” he answered, as he steeredthe dory in under the boom. “Here! catch the bag, will you?”

  It was evident that Tom was far from satisfied with the informationsupplied, for all the way up the hill he shot suspicious glancesat Nelson, and stumbled over numerous roots and stones in hispreoccupation. But he didn’t discover anything more, at least fromNelson.

  After the mail was distributed in Birch Hall the two boys got theirrackets and balls and climbed the hill, past the spring and thelittle sunlit glade where church service was held on Sundays, until atiny plateau was reached. Here was the tennis-court, fashioned withmuch difficulty and not altogether guiltless of stones, but not halfbad for all that. It was well supplied with back-nets--a fortunatecircumstance, since the woods closed in upon it on all sides, and ballsonce lost in the undergrowth would have been difficult to find. Tom,considering his bulk, played a very fast and steady game, and succeededin securing one of the three sets which they managed to finish beforethe assembly sounded at eleven o’clock and they fled down the hill tothe lake.

  The morning bath, or “soak,” as it was called, was compulsory asregarded every camper. Nothing save absence or illness was allowed toexcuse a fellow from this duty. Tom and Nelson donned their bathingtrunks and pushed their way out onto the crowded pier. Two of thesteel boats were occupied by councilors, whose duty it was to time thebathers and keep an eye on adventurous swimmers. The boys lined theedge of the pier and awaited impatiently the signal from Mr. Ellery.Presently, “All in!” was the cry, and instantly the pier was empty,save for a few juniors whose inexperience kept them in shallow wateralong the little sandy beach. The water spouted in a dozen places, andone by one dripping heads bobbed above the surface and their ownersstruck out for the steps to repeat the dive. Nelson found the water farwarmer than he was accustomed to at the beaches; it was almost likejumping into a tub for a warm bath. When he came to the surface aftera plunge and a few vigorous kicks under water he found himself closeto the boat occupied by Dr. Smith. He swam to it, laid hold of thegunwale, and tried to wipe the water from his eyes.

  “What’s the trouble, Tilford?” asked the councilor smilingly.

  “I guess my eyes are kind of weak,” Nelson answered. “The water makesthem smart like anything.”

  “Better keep them closed when you go under. It isn’t the fault of youreyes, though; it’s the water.”

  “But they never hurt before, sir.”

  “Where have you bathed--in fresh water?”

  “No, sir--salt.”

  “That’s different. The eyes are used to salt water, but fresh waterirritates them.”

  “I should think it would be the other way,” said Nelson, blinking.

  “Not when you consider that all the secretions of the eye are salty.Tears never made your eyes smart, did they?”

  “No, sir; that’s so. It’s funny, though, isn’t it?”

  “Well, it’s like a good many other things, Tilford--strange until youget used to it. I suppose you swim pretty well?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, sir. I’ve swam all my life, I guess, but I don’tbelieve I’m what you’d call a dabster.”

  “I wouldn’t think of calling you that, anyhow,” laughed the Doctor,“for I don’t think I know what it means. But how about diving?”

  Nelson shook his head.

  “I’ve never done much of that. I’ve usually bathed in the surf, yousee. I’d be scared silly if I tried what those fellows are doing.”

  The fellows referred to were standing on a tiny platform built up agood ten feet above the floor of the pier. One by one they launchedthemselves into the lake, at least eighteen feet below, some makingstraight dives, some letting themselves fall and straightening out justas they reached the surface, and one, who proved to be Dan Speede,turning a backward somersault and disappearing feet first and handshigh over head.

  “That was a dandy, wasn’t it?” asked Nelson with enthusiasm.

  “Yes; I guess Speede’s the star diver here. But he takes mighty bigrisks sometimes. If you want to try a dive I’ll watch you and see if Ican help you any with criticism.”

  “All right, but I just jump off when I dive,” said Nelson. “But I’dlike to learn, sir.”

  So he swam over to the steps, reaching them just ahead of Dan, andwalked along the pier to a place where there was no danger of strikingthe steam-launch which was tied alongside. He had just reached aposition that suited him and was standing sideways to the water, whenthere as an exclamation, some one apparently stumbled into him, and hewent over like a ninepin, striking the water in a heap and going sofar under he thought he would never come up again. But he did finally,his lungs full of water and his breath almost gone from his body--cameup choking and sputtering to see Dan looking down with that maddeninggrin on his face, and to hear him call:

  “Awfully sorry, Tilford. I tripped on a knot-hole!”

  Nelson coughed and spat until some of the water was out of him--and itwas odd how disagreeable it tasted after salt water--and turned to swimback. Dr. Smith was smiling broadly as Nelson passed, and the lattercalled, “We won’t count that one, sir.”

  Dan was awaiting him on the pier, apparently prepared for whateverNelson might attempt in the way of revenge. But Nelson took no noticeof him. This time he made his dive without misadventure, and then swamout to the Doctor to hear the latter’s criticism.

  “That wasn’t so bad, Tilford. But you want to straighten out more andkeep your feet together. And I wouldn’t try to jump off at first; justfall forward, and give the least little bit of a shove with your feetat the last moment.”

  “I’ll try it again,” said Nelson.

  This time Dan did not see Nelson as the latter came along the pier.He was standing near the edge, daring Hethington to go over with hishands clasped under his knees, and knew nothing of his danger untilhe found himself lifted from his feet. Then he struggled desperately,but Nelson had seized him from behind and his hands found no clutch onhis captor’s wet body. The next instant he was falling over and overin a most undignified and far from scientific attitude. He tried togather himself together as he struck the water, but the attempt wasnot a success, and he disappeared in a writhing heap. Like Nelson, hecame up choking and gasping, trying his best to put a good face onit, but succeeding so ill that the howls of laughter that had greetedhis disappearance burst forth afresh. But, thought Nelson, he wasa wonderful chap to take a joke, for, having found his breath, hemerely swam quickly to the steps and came up onto the pier looking asundisturbed as you please.

  “That puts us even again, doesn’t it?” he said to Nelson.

  Nelson nodded.

  He kept a watch on Dan the rest of the time, but the latter madeno attempt to trouble him again. He profited to some extent by Dr.Smith’s instructions, and when the cry of “All out!” came he believedthat to-morrow he would have the courage to try a dive from the“crow’s-nest,” as the fellows called the little platform above thepier. He walked up the hill with Bob and Tom.

  “I don’t see why that si
lly idiot of a Speede wants to be forevertrying his fool jokes on me,” he said aggrievedly.

  “That’s just his way,” answered Tom soothingly.

  “Well, it’s a mighty tiresome way,” said Nelson, in disgust.

  “He has an overdeveloped sense of humor,” said Bob Hethington. “It’s asort of disease with him, I guess.”

  “Well, I wish he’d forget it,” Nelson grumbled. “I’m afraid to sit downon a chair now for fear there’ll be a pin in it.”

  “Oh, he gets tired after a while,” said Bob. “He was that way with mefor a day after camp began.”

  “What did you do?” asked Nelson curiously.

  Bob smiled; so did Tom.

  “I gave him some of his own medicine. I filled his bunk withpine-needles--they stick nicely to woolen blankets, you know--tiedknots in every stitch of clothing he had, and put all his shoes in apail of water. He’s never bothered me since.”

  “Did he get mad?”

  “Mad? No, you can’t get the idiot mad. Carter says he laughed himselfto sleep that night--Dan, I mean.”

  “I wonder if all the St. Eustace fellows are like him,” Nelson mused.“If they are, life there must be mighty interesting. Perhaps they havea course of practical joking there.”

  Dinner was at twelve-thirty, and it was a very hungry set of fellowsthat dropped themselves onto their stools and attacked the soup, roastbeef, potatoes, spinach, beets, apple pie, and cheese. Nelson marveledat first at the quantity of milk his neighbors got away with, but aftera day or so he ceased to wonder, drinking his own three or four glasseswithout difficulty. After dessert the history of the preceding day wasread by one of the councilors, while the historian, a very small youthknown as “Babe,” grinned sheepishly and proudly as he listened to hiscomposition. Nelson’s hazing was referred to with gusto and summonedlaughter, and “Babe” was loudly applauded when the history was finishedand the reader had announced “George Fowler.”

  At one-thirty the bugle blew for “siesta,” the most trying part ofthe day’s program. Every boy was required to go to his bunk and liedown for half an hour with closed eyes and relaxed body. By themiddle of the summer custom had enabled most of them to accept thisenforced idleness with philosophy, and to even sleep through a portionat least of the terrible half hour, but at present it was sufferingunmitigated, and many were the pleas offered to escape “siesta.”When Nelson approached his bunk he was confronted by a square ofbrown wrapping-paper on which in black letters, evidently done with ablacking-brush, was the inscription:

  +--------------+ | HILLTON IS A | | BUM SCHOOL | +--------------+

  He felt his cheeks reddening as the snickers of the watchers reachedhim. There was no doubt in his mind as to the perpetrator of theinsult, for insult it was in his judgment, and his first impulse wasto march down the aisle and have it out with Dan there and then. Buthe only unpinned the sheet, tossed it on the floor, and laid down onhis bunk. Presently, when his cheeks had cooled, he raised his headcautiously and looked around. The dormitory was silent. One or twofellows were surreptitiously reading, a few were resolutely trying toobey orders, and the others were restlessly turning and twisting inan agony of inactivity. Mr. Verder was not present, and the dormitorywas in charge of Dr. Smith, whose bunk was at the other end. Nelsonquietly reached out and secured the obnoxious placard, laying it cleanside up between his bed and Bob’s and holding it in place with a shoe.Then he found a soft pencil, and, lying on the edge of the bunk,started to work. Bob looked on dispassionately. Nelson wondered if heever really got interested in anything.

  After a while the task was completed. Nelson looked warily down theroom. Dr. Smith was apparently asleep. Finding two pins, he crept offthe bed and secured the sheet of paper to the rafter where it had hungbefore. Up and down the dormitory heads were raised and eager eyes werewatching him. This time the placard hung with the other side toward theroom, and the new inscription read:

  +---------------------+ | 1903 | | HILLTON 17 | | ST. EUSTACE 0 | +---------------------+

  Nelson scuttled back to bed. Faint whispers reached him. Then:

  “Where are you going, Speede?” asked the Doctor’s voice suddenly.

  Dan, creeping cautiously up the aisle, paused in his tracks.

  “I left something up here, sir.”

  “Get it after siesta, then.”

  Dan went back to bed. The whispers grew, interspersed with chuckles.

  “Cut that out, fellows,” said the Doctor, and silence reigned again.For the next quarter of an hour the score of last autumn’s footballgame between Hillton and St. Eustace flaunted itself to the world. Thefellows, all save one or two who had really fallen asleep, wonderedwhat would happen after siesta. So did Nelson. He hoped that Dan wouldmake trouble, for it seemed to him then that that insult could only bewiped out with blows; and although Dan was somewhat taller and muchheavier than Nelson, the latter fancied he could give a fairly goodaccount of himself. And then the bugle blew, fellows bounded onto thefloor, and the ensuing racket more than made up for the half hour ofquiet. Dan made at once for the placard. Nelson jumped up and stoodunder it. Dan stopped a few steps away.

  “That’s my piece of paper, you know,” he said quietly.

  “Get it,” answered Nelson.

  “Cut it out, you two,” said Bob.

  Nelson flashed a look of annoyance at the peacemaker.

  Dan viewed him mildly. “Look here,” he said, “if you’ll take that downand tear it up, we’ll call quits.”

  “I don’t know,” said Nelson. “How about Hillton being a bum school?”Dan grinned.

  “You take that down,” he said.

  “I will when you take back what you wrote on the other side.”

  “Don’t you do it, Dan,” advised a snub-nosed chap named Wells.

  “You shut up, Wells,” said Bob; and Wells, who wasn’t popular, washustled out of the way by the others who had gathered.

  “Well, ain’t she pretty bum?” asked Dan innocently.

  “Not too bum to lick you at football,” answered Nelson hotly.

  “Pooh!” said Dan. “Do you know why? Because they wouldn’t let me play.”

  That aroused laughter, and Nelson stared at his antagonist in deepdisgust. “What an idiot he was,” he said to himself; “he couldn’t beserious even over a quarrel.”

  “Well, she did it, anyhow,” he said rather lamely.

  “Well, it’s over now, isn’t it?” asked Dan calmly. “So let’s take thescore down,” and he moved toward the placard.

  “No you don’t!” Nelson exclaimed, moving in front of him; “not untilyou’ve apologized.”

  Dan smiled at him in his irritating manner.

  “Don’t you believe I could lick you?” he asked.

  “Maybe you can,” said Nelson, “but talking won’t do it.”

  “Well, I can; but I’m not going to. There isn’t going to be any row,so you fellows might as well chase yourselves. It was just a joke,Tilford. Hillton’s all right. It’s the best school in the country,barring one. How’ll that do for an apology, my fierce friend?”

  “It isn’t quite truthful,” answered Nelson, smiling in spite ofhimself, “but I guess it’ll answer. Here’s your old paper.”

  Dan accepted it and tore it up. Then he stuffed the pieces in the firstbunk he came to.

  “War is averted,” he announced.

  Then he went out, followed by most of the inmates of the dormitory, whowere laughingly accusing him of “taking water.”

  “He’s a queer chump,” said Nelson, with something of unwillingadmiration in his tones. But Bob didn’t hear him. He was back on hisbed, absorbed in a magazine.

  “And you’re another,” added Nelson under his breath.