CHAPTER XII
Mabel's Astonishing Discovery
THE campers rose the next morning without suspecting that a verystrange thing was about to happen; or that Mabel, who was still indisgrace because of her habit of half drowning her trusting companions,was, on that never-to-be-forgotten day, as they say in books, to coverherself with glory--instead of mud.
The inhabitants of Pete's Patch rose to find the sun shining, the windgone, the lake settled back in its proper place.
"The sea began to subside before I turned in last night," said Mr.Black. "It's as gentle as a lamb to-day."
"Look at the shore!" cried Marjory. "It's different. The beach thatwas sandy before the storm is all pebbly now; and down there where thecobblestones were it's all beautiful, smooth sand."
"And look," supplemented Jean, "at the mouth of that surprising river.It's a lot wider than it was when we came."
"Some time to-day," said Mr. Black, "I want to go to the little coveabout halfway between here and Barclay's Point. That seems to be thespot that catches everything that is cast up by the sea. I need somethin boards for your cupboard, Sarah. I noticed the other day that thesharp cleft in the rocks back of that cove was filled with boards."
"That's an awfully interesting spot," said Jean. "If sailors threwbottles overboard with letters in them, that's where you'd findthem--everything washes in at that spot."
"Or," said Henrietta, "if the captain lashed his only daughter to themast and threw her overboard, that's where she'd land."
"Oh, I _hope_ not," breathed tender-hearted Bettie.
"So do I," laughed Henrietta, with an impish glance at Mr. Black."Think of being wrecked on the reef of Pete's Patch!"
"Norman's Woe certainly sounds better," agreed Mr. Black, "but let ushope that no one got wrecked _any_ place. Now I must take a look at theWhale--I'm wondering how she weathered the storm."
"It's my turn to wash dishes," announced Jean.
"And mine to wipe," said Henrietta.
"Then Bettie and I will do the beds," said Marjory, quickly.
Mabel, left out in the cold, scowled darkly for a moment. Then she satup very stiffly indeed.
"I shall go all by myself and pick up two big baskets of driftwood,"said she.
"To-morrow morning," offered sympathetic Jean, "you're invited to dodishes with me, Mabel."
"And beds with me," added impish Henrietta.
"And to wash potatoes with me," teased Marjory.
"Why not let me do _all_ the work?" queried Mabel, huffily. "But I_will_ do dishes with you, Jean. I know _you_ meant to be polite."
Presently Mabel, with two of the big baskets that had come with theprovisions, slid down the sand bank to the beach. It was certainly afine morning. Within two minutes, sturdy Mabel had forgotten that theothers were paired off and that she was the odd one.
"The sky is blue, blue, blue," sang Mabel, marching up the smooth, hardbeach; "the water is blue, blue, blue with golden sparkles; and the airis warm enough and cool enough and clean, clean, cle--ow!"
A leisurely wave had crept in and made a playful dash for Mabel'sheedless feet.
"You got me that time," beamed friendly Mabel. "I guess you wanted toremind me that I was out after wood. All right, Mr. Lake, I'll walkcloser to the bank. My! What nice little blocks for our fire. I _love_to find things."
Soon both baskets were filled; but by this time Mabel was well out ofsight of the camp, having passed two of the little rocky points thatextended into the lake, north of Pete's Patch.
"I wish I had a hundred baskets to fill," sighed Mabel. "I guess I'llleave these right here and go a little farther; it's such a nice dayand I _love_ to go adventuring. Oh! I know what I'll do; I'll go toBarclay's Point after my sweater--I hope it hasn't blown away."
So Mabel, with a definite object in view, started at a brisker pacetoward Barclay's. Presently she reached the cove mentioned by Mr. Blackas a catch-all for floating timber. The water was deeper at this placeand a strong current carried quantities of driftwood to this wide,bowl-shaped cove. In severe storms, some of it was tossed high amongthe rocks and gnarled roots in a ravine-like cleft at the back. Nearerthe water, many great logs, partially embedded in the sand, caught andheld the lighter material tossed in by the waves.
"Oh!" cried Mabel, "I wish I had a _million_ baskets! I know what I'lldo. I'll just toss a lot of those go-in-a-basket pieces into a big pileway up there where the waves can't get them."
Gathering up the edges of her skirt, sturdy Mabel filled it with theclean, if not particularly dry, bits of wood, worn satin-smooth andwhite by long buffetings against graveled shores.
"I'll throw them behind that log," decided Mabel, toiling inland withher heavy burden. "They'll be perfectly safe up there--My! But they'repretty heavy. I guess there's room back of that big log for a wholewag--wow! ow!"
Mabel's final syllable was a curious, startled sound. While notprecisely a gasp, a shriek, or a shout, it was a queer combination ofall three.
Mabel was startled, and with good reason. The space behind the log wasalready occupied; and by something that looked human.
The surprised little girl saw first a pair of water-soaked shoesattached to two very thin, boyish legs in black stockings. Beyond thestockings was a gray mass of tangled fish-net wound about somethingbulky and white that Mabel concluded was a life-preserver. Beyondthat, an extended arm was partly buried in the sand. A thin, white handwas firmly closed over a sharply projecting point of rock. Very closeagainst the huge log, so close as to be almost under it, was a shining,golden ball, the back of a boy's close-cropped head.
THE SPACE BEHIND THE LOG WAS ALREADY OCCUPIED]
For a long moment Mabel, who had unconsciously dropped her load on herown toes, stood still and gazed questioningly at her unexpected find.Then the astonished little adventurer climbed over the wood she haddropped, bent down, and, with one finger, touched the boy's stocking,gingerly.
"If--if he'd been here very long," she said, sagely, "his stockingswould have been faded. Things fade pretty fast on the lake shore.Perhaps if I poke him he'll wake up."
Mabel prodded the unfaded legs very gently with a pointed stick. Therewas no response.
"I guess he's dead," she sighed. "But I s'pose I ought to feel hispulse to find out for sure--ugh! I sort of hate to--suppose he _is_dead!"
But, bravely overcoming her distaste for this obvious duty, Mabellaid a trembling finger on the slim white hand. It was not as cold andclammy as she had feared to find it. Mabel touched it again, this timewith several fingers. Yes, the hand was actually a little bit warm.
As she bent closer to the golden head, it seemed to Mabel that shecould detect a sound of breathing, rather heavy breathing, Mabelthought; a little like Mrs. Crane's, when that good lady snored.
Mabel crouched patiently near the prostrate lad and listened. Thelabored breathing certainly came from that recumbent boy.
"But," argued Mabel, "if he's only taking a nap, why is he all tangledup in that net? And there's that life-preserver. He's been wrecked andtossed up, I believe. And he's still all wet underneath. Perhaps Iought to wake him up--he ought not to sleep in such wet clothes."
So Mabel grasped her discovery very firmly by one thin shoulder andshook him quite vigorously; but he still slept. Then, clutching himby both shoulders, she succeeded in dragging the heavy sleeper a fewinches from the log; but he seemed rather too firmly anchored to hisresting-place for this method to work successfully. Still, she hadgained something, for now one ear and a bit of one cheek were visible.They were not white like the extended hand, but darkly red and very hotto the touch.
"Boy!" called Mabel. "Why don't you wake up? Don't you know that you'renot drowned? Wake up, I say! Whoo! Whoo! _Whoo!_"
But the boy, in spite of what should have proved alarming sounds,made, as they were, in his very ear, still slumbered on in a strange,baffling fashion; and Mabel, after watching him in a puzzled way forseveral moments longer, found a broad shingle, which
she balancedneatly on the boy's unconscious head.
"That'll keep the sun off," said she, "while I'm gone for help."
The Castaways of Pete's Patch Page 15
