Читать книгу Jack Ranger's Gun Club: or, From Schoolroom to Camp and Trail - Young Clarence - Страница 2

“There goes Dock!”

“Pull him out!”

“Yes, before he gets under the float!”

“He can’t swim! He’s too exhausted!”

These were some of the expressions the excited lads shouted as they surged forward to look at the spot where Dock had disappeared. A string of bubbles and some swirling eddies were all that marked the place.

The float began to tilt with the weight of so many boys on one edge.

“Stand back!” cried Jack Ranger. “Stand back, or we’ll all be in the lake!”

They heeded his words, and moved toward the middle of the platform.

“Some one ought to go in after him,” said Pud Armstrong, his teeth fairly chattering from fright and nervousness. “I – I can’t swim.”

“Look out!” cried Jack. “I’m going in!”

He began pulling off the sweater which some of the lads had helped put on him, when he stepped from the shell all perspiration.

He poised for an instant on the edge of the float, looking down into the dark waters, beneath which Dock had disappeared, and then dived in.

“Get one of the boats out. Maybe he won’t come up near the float,” ordered Sam Chalmers, and several lads hurriedly shoved out into the lake a broad barge, which could safely be used by Jack in getting Dock out of the water, if he was fortunate enough to find the youth.

“Queer he doesn’t come up,” spoke Glen in a whisper.

“Who – Dock or Jack?” asked Bony, cracking his finger knuckles in double relays.

“Dock.”

“He’s too exhausted,” replied Bony. “Can’t swim. But Jack’ll get him.”

How long it seemed since Jack had dived down! The swirl he made had subsided, and the water was almost calm again. Anxiously the lads on the float and shore watched to see him reappear. Would he come up alone, or would he bring Dock with him?

“Maybe Jack hit his head on something,” suggested Nat.

“Jack knows how to dive, and it’s deep here,” said Sam. “I guess he’ll come up all right, but – ”

He did not finish the sentence. At that moment there was a disturbance beneath the surface of the lake. A head bobbed up.

“There’s Jack!” cried Bony delightedly.

A white arm shot up and began sweeping the water.

“He’s got him!” yelled Nat. “He’s got Dock!”

Sure enough, Jack had come to the surface, encircling in his left arm the unconscious form of Dock Snaith, while with his sturdy right he was swimming slowly toward the float.

“The boat! the boat! It’s nearer!” cried Sam, for Jack had come up at some distance from the little pier and closer to the rowboat which had put out from shore.

Jack heard and understood. Turning, he began swimming toward the craft, and the lads in it rowed toward him. A few seconds later Jack had clutched the gunwale, holding Dock’s head out of water.

Several eager hands reached down to grasp our hero.

“Take – take him first,” he said pantingly. “I’m – I’m all right.”

Dock was hauled into the boat.

“Now row ashore. I’ll swim it,” went on Jack. “Get the water out of him as soon as you can. He – he was right on the bottom. Struck – struck on the – on the float, I guess.”

“We’ll take you in,” cried Bob Movel.

“Sure! There’s lots of room,” added Fred Kaler.

“No. Get Dock on shore,” ordered Jack, and they obeyed.

Relieved of his burden, and having recovered his wind, Jack swam slowly to the float. The boat reached it some time ahead of him, and Dock was lifted out, while, under the direction of Sam Chalmers, the students administered first aid to the drowned.

Dock was turned over on his face, a roll of coats having been placed under his stomach to aid in forcing the water out of him. There was no need to remove his clothing, as he and Jack were clad only in rowing trunks and light shirts.

“Now turn him over on his back and hold out his tongue, fellows,” directed Sam, and this was done, the tongue being held by Nat Anderson, who used his handkerchief to prevent it slipping away. This was done so that it might not fall back into the throat and prevent Dock from breathing.

“Now work his arms! Over his head! Press up his diaphragm and start artificial respiration,” went on Sam, and under the ministrations of the lads, Dock soon began to breathe again.

He sighed, took in a long breath naturally, opened his eyes, and gasped feebly.

“He’s all right now,” said Sam in a relieved tone. “How do you feel, Dock?”

“All – right – I – guess. My head – ”

He closed his eyes again. Sam passed his hand over the prostrate lad’s skull.

“He’s got a nasty cut there,” he said, as he felt of a big lump, “but I guess it’s not serious. We must get him up to the school.”

“Come on, let’s carry him,” suggested Nat.

“Never mind – here comes Hexter!” cried Bony.

As he spoke the chug-chugging of an automobile was heard, and a touring car came along the road down to the float. It was a machine kept at Washington Hall, and used by the teachers, and, occasionally, when Hexter, the chauffeur, would allow it, by the students.

“Dr. Mead sent me down to see what the matter was,” said Hexter as he stopped the car. “He saw a crowd on the float and thought something might have happened.”

“There has,” replied Sam. “Here, Hexter, help us get Dock into the car, and then throw on all the speed you’ve got, if you have to blow out a spark-plug.”

“Is he – is he dead?” asked Hexter quickly.

“No; only stunned. Lively, now!”

Hexter aided the boys in lifting Dock into the machine, and then he made speed to the school, where the injured lad was cared for by Dr. Henry Mead, the master of Washington Hall.

“Well, that was an exciting finish to the race,” remarked Jack as he walked up from the float to the shore, surrounded by some of his chums, after Dock had been taken away.

“He oughtn’t to try to row,” said Fred Kaler. “He hasn’t got the staying powers.”

“Well, he didn’t have to-day,” observed Jack; “but if he would only train, he’d make a good oarsman. He’s got lots of muscle. I hope he isn’t hurt much.”

“He’ll be all right in a few days,” was Nat’s opinion. “Say, Jack, but you’re shivering.”

“Yes, that water’s a little cooler than it was Fourth of July.”

“Here, put a couple of sweaters on,” went on Nat, and soon Jack was warmly wrapped up.

“Now run up and change your duds,” advised Bony, and Jack broke into a dog-trot, his friends trailing along behind him and discussing the race and the accident.

While they are thus engaged I will take the opportunity to tell you a little something about Jack Ranger and his friends, so that you who have not previously read of him may feel better acquainted with our hero.

The first volume of this series was called “Jack Ranger’s Schooldays,” and in it there was related some of the fun Jack and his special friend, Nat Anderson, had in their native town of Denton. So exciting were some of their escapades that it was decided to send them off to boarding-school, and Washington Hall, sometimes called Lakeside Academy, from the fact that it was located on the shore of Lake Rudmore, was selected. There Jack made friends with most of the students, including some who have already been mentioned in this present tale. He incurred the enmity of a bully, Jerry Chowden, who, however, was not now at the academy, as you will presently learn.

Jack’s home was with three maiden aunts, the Misses Angelina, Josephine and Mary Stebbins, who took good care of him. In the first volume there was related something of a certain mystery concerning Jack’s father, Robert Ranger, and how he had to go into hiding in the West because of complications over a land deal.

In the second volume of the series, “Jack Ranger’s Western Trip,” was related what happened to Jack, Nat Anderson, and a half-breed Indian, John Smith, whose acquaintance Jack had made at Washington Hall, when they went West in search of Mr. Ranger.

They journeyed to a ranch, owned by Nat’s uncle, and they had many exciting times, not a few of which were caused by a certain faker, whose real name was Hemp Smith, but who assumed the title Marinello Booghoobally, and various other appellations as suited his fancy.

Mr. Ranger was located, but only after the boys had suffered many hardships and gone through not a few perils, and Jack was happy to be able to bring his father back East, there being no longer any reason for Mr. Ranger remaining in exile.

“Jack Ranger’s School Victories,” was the title of the third volume, and in that was told of Jack’s successes on track, gridiron and diamond. Hemp Smith and Jerry Chowden made trouble for him, but he bested them. He had plenty of fun, for which two teachers at the school, Professor Socrat, an instructor in French, and Professor Garlach, a German authority, furnished an excuse.

But Jack’s activities did not all center about the school. There was told in the fourth volume, “Jack Ranger’s Ocean Cruise,” what happened to him and his chums when they went camping one summer. Jack, Nat Anderson, Sam Chalmers, Bony Balmore, and an odd character, Budge Rankin, who chewed gum and ran his words together, went off to live in the woods, near the seacoast, for a few weeks.

There they fell in with a scoundrel named Jonas Lavine, who was aided in his plots by Jerry Chowden and Hemp Smith.

Jack and his chums stumbled upon a printing plant, maintained in a cave by Lavine and his confederates, where bogus bonds were made. Before they had time to inform the authorities Jack and Nat were captured by Lavine and sent to sea in a ship in charge of Captain Reeger, a tool of Lavine.

Jack learned that Captain Reeger wanted to be freed from the toils of Lavine, and our hero agreed to assist him, in return for which the captain said he would aid Jack.

Jack and Nat managed to get out of the cabin in which they were confined. As they were about to escape from the Polly Ann a terrible storm came up, and the ship was wrecked. But not before Jerry Chowden had boarded her, to help in keeping Jack and Nat captives.

They had many hardships, afloat on a raft in a fog, and saved Jerry Chowden from drowning. Finally they were rescued, and Lavine and his confederates were arrested, Captain Reeger being exonerated. Jerry Chowden fled to the West, fearing arrest should he remain in the East. Jack and his chums were reunited, and they again enjoyed life under the canvas, until it was time to resume their studies at Washington Hall, where the opening of this story finds them.

As Jack and his chums walked up the gravel path to the dormitories, where our hero intended to get into dry clothes, the group of youths chatting eagerly of the events which had just taken place passed a lad standing beneath a clump of trees. The latter, instead of coming to join the throng, turned away.

“Who’s that?” asked Jack of Bony Balmore. “I don’t remember to have seen him before.”

“He’s a new boy,” replied Bony, cracking three finger knuckles in his absent-minded way.

“What’s his name?”

“Will Williams.”

“Looks like a nice sort of chap,” added Nat.

“But his face is sad,” said Jack slowly. “I wonder why he should be sad when he’s at such a jolly place as Washington Hall?”

“Maybe he’s lonesome,” suggested Fred Kaler.

“Give him a tune on your mouth-organ, and he’ll be more so,” spoke Bob Movel, but he took good care to get beyond the reach of Fred’s fist, at this insult to his musical abilities.

“Let’s make friends with him,” went on Jack. “Hey, Williams, come on over and get acquainted,” he called.

But the new boy, instead of answering, or turning to join the happy crowd of students, kept on walking away.

“That’s funny,” said Jack, with a puzzled look at his chums. “Fellows, there’s something wrong about that boy. I can tell by his face, and I’m going to find out what it is.”

“You’d better get dry first,” suggested Nat.

“I will, but later I’m going to make that lad’s acquaintance. He looks as if he needed a friend.”