prize. But the wind, which had been in his favor when outward bound, was against him on the return voyage. He sat with legs hanging over the side of the tub, and bearing it down; so that, in meeting the waves, it soon took in water enough to founder, and he who had been first in the race must now begin again as the last. Rod knelt in his tub, balancing it well, and paddling steadily with a pair of wooden scoops. Some used little coal-shovels, attached by strings to the handles of their tubs, so that they might not lose them when they capsized and had to swim. One lost his, nevertheless. That left only four competitors. Of these, the two who next passed the buoy were Rod and Dick Dushee. The strife between these two became exciting. The trick by which Rod was upset had been noticed, and it won him the sympathy of the spec tators. "She's coming," replied Letty. There was a movement on the balcony. Sylvia disappeared. The Tinkhams pushed in between two yachts that lay beside the float. "Make room here! make room for the ladies!" cried a shrill, authoritative voice within the lower door-way. The crowd there opened, and Sylvia's rosy face was seen emerging. With her came Mollie Kent, laughing as at some merry adventure. Rush stepped out upon the float, and placed a board so that they could reach the boat without wetting their feet. But behold! three other young girls were following; and now the same peremptory voice called out again: "Haul the Commodore's yacht a little ahead!” It was the voice of the Commodore himself; and if ever a boy's heart was stepped on and flattened out by mighty disappointment, elephantine cha "Who is that fine-looking boy?" the mother grin, that heart was Rush Tinkham's, when the heard some one ask. "It's a Tinkham! It's one of the Tinkhams!" went from mouth to mouth in reply. As the two neared the float almost abreast, they were greeted by loud cries from some of the small fry present. "Scratch water, Dick!" "Put in, Tinkham! pay him for that tip-over!"-followed soon by a chorus of shouts from small and great. Dick, in his hurry, had gone down within two yards of the float. Looking straight before him, heeding nobody, paddling steadily, Rod quickly came within reach of Rupe's outstretched hand, and a burst of applause told that the first prize, a handsome hammock, had been won. Thereupon the little Commodore disappeared in the boat-house, frowning with huge disgust; and a man on the shore, with a vast, sandy desert of a face, uttered a dismal groan. girls tripped past him, lightly holding their skirts, and titteringly catching at each other as they stepped aboard the yacht. The owner followed and took the helm. The yacht was shoved off, the sheet was hauled, the flapping canvas filled, the Commodore's broad pennant streamed in the wind, and away went Web with his lovely cargo of girls, Sylvia and Mollie smiling and fluttering their handkerchiefs (in mockery, Rush angrily thought) at their friends in the boat. "I never saw anything so provoking," whispered Letty, as Rush jumped aboard and pushed away. "You could n't expect a Dempford girl to go over openly and publicly to the enemy, could you?" said Mrs. Tinkham, "under the eyes of all the Argonauts!” "I was a fool!" muttered Rush, imagining everybody was laughing at him. "Let's get out But others took a more cheerful view of the of this!" result. "I declare!" said Mrs. Tinkham, wiping bright tears from her eyes, "I would n't have believed a bit of foolishness could ever interest me so much!" "It's the honor of the T-t-tinkham's that 's at stake!" said Lute, radiant behind his spectacles. "I wish Mart was here to enj-j-joy it!" But Mart had staid at home to guard the premises. Rush and Letty were in the gayest spirits; nor was their happiness lessened when they looked up at the balcony and saw Syl Bartland clapping hands with delight at Rod's triumph. They took little interest in the rest of the race, except to see that Dick Dushee did not win a prize. "Now get her to come down into our boat," said Rush. race. There was to be a swimming race after the tubBut the Tinkhams took no interest in it; and, leaving Rod with Rupe to dress and get the hammock, they took a row up the lake. CHAPTER XXXVIII. WHAT LUTE SAW IN HIS WATER-GLASS. RUSH was not in a happy mood. To see the yacht go flying over the water under her broad sail, with her stern conspicuously lettered, "THE COMMODORE," was irritating to a boy of good taste and fine feelings. And the nervous, laughing screams of the girls as she careened to the breeze were not soothing sounds. Only a conceited blockhead would do it," said Rush. "The Commodore thinks nobody can sail a boat like him—that an accident can't possibly happen with him at the helm. His looks show that." "He is n't like me," remarked Lute. "I should be the biggest c-c-coward in the world in his place now." "They'll all be drowned!" said her mother, with white lips. "Pull! pull!" muttered Lute, snatching an oar from Rush and striking it into one of the forward rowlocks." Wait a moment! Now!" "Not another boat in sight!" said Mrs. Tinkham, casting a swift glance around. "Boys! it all depends on you!" Screams were heard again. That was encouraging. Lute and Rush pulled as no champion oarsmen had pulled on the lake that day. They could not take time to glance over their shoulders; their mother told them how to row. "Not quite so hard, Lute! You 're too much for Rocket. There! there! Now straight ahead!” "Do you see them?" Lute asked. "There 's somebody clinging to the mast," said Letty, with a convulsive laugh. "And somebody swimming. Row! row, boys! And a head above water. No! it's a floating bonnet." 66 Only two?" Rush breathed between strokes. "That's all I see," said Mrs. Tinkham. "Hold your oar, Lute! That's it, Rocket! Now straight "He's coming for us, to show how smart he ahead again!" Then, as they drew nearer, "There is," said Rush. The yacht went rushing past, ripping the water with a loud noise, and sped on her course, leaving the prosaic little row-boat lying like a log in her wake. Not a glance from the girls, who had ceased to giggle, and appeared to be begging the Commodore to take them back. It was very provoking. Rush resolved not to look at the yacht any more. He was rowing steadily along, with Lute behind him in the bow, and his mother and sister in the stern, when suddenly Mrs. Tinkham started forward with frightened scream, in which Letty joined. a The five girls had been seated on the yacht's windward side, which ran high and higher with every gust. Then all at once the wind, made fitful by the high, wooded shores, veered about, the sail jibed suddenly and violently, the boat gave an unexpected roll, the enormous sail going over in the buffet of the flaw. Rush looked in time to see the gunwale dip, carried down by the weight of girls. They threw up their arms with wild gestures, starting to their feet, and their screams came over the water. In an instant all was confusion, the iron-ballasted yacht filling and settling rapidly, and the wind still playing with the upper part of the sail, while the lower part was disappearing in the lake. Down, down it went, until at last only the mast-head was seen, like a slanting stake, with the pennant still flying above the surface, where two or three vague objects tossed. Letty sobbed and laughed hysterically. are two swimming!" "One must be the Commodore," said Letty. "Oh! he is saving somebody! He is helping her get hold of the mast. No, not the mast, but the halyards." "You 'll "Bravely, boys!" cried the mother. soon be there! Two girls now at the mast! One has hold of the pennant. Look where you 're going, Lute!" "Oh!" said Letty, in wild despair, "I saw two hands come up and go down again! If we had only been a little sooner!" "It was while he was saving the other," said Mrs. Tinkham. "Now he is swimming where we saw that one go down. Too late! Careful! careful, boys!" "Hold, Rocket!" cried Lute. "Take the oar!" He sprang to the bow as the boat, with slackening speed, neared the tragical scene, and called out, "We'll have you in a m-m-moment!" Even at such a time, the poor fellow had to stammer. "Don't mind us!" said one of the gasping creatures at the mast. "We can hold on. Look for the others!" It was Mollie Kent, recognizable even with her agonized face and dripping hair. "There are three more!" said her companion, an older girl whom the Tinkhams had never seen until that day. "Three drowned —unless you can save them!" "One went down right here!" cried the little Commodore, paddling helplessly about, wild-eyed, He had hitherto supposed he could, and had taken from a platform many a plunge which he thought the world ought to admire. But he could no more go down fifteen or eighteen feet, even to save a life he had so recklessly imperiled, than he could fly in the air. Neither were the Tinkham boys at all expert at diving. In their limited swimming experience, their endeavor had generally been to keep as near the surface as possible. Yet Rush had already kicked off his shoes and thrown down his hat and coat. And now he stood hand and drawing up something entangled in the other. "Here! here!" cried Letty, reaching to help ready to leap, while he kept the boat in place with a single oar. "There! there!" shrieked Letty. Something like floating hair appeared on the opposite side of the boat from the poor, paddling Commodore. It was slowly settling down again, when Rush saw it, and, using his one oar as a lever, tried to force the boat over broadside toward it. Failing in that, and seeing it about to disappear, he gave a headlong jump, which nearly threw Lute overboard. Lute saved himself, however. He seized the oar and brought the boat around just as Rush, after a brief struggle in the water, emerged with blinded eyes and dripping face, swimming with one free VOL. X.-57. Rush scrambled into the boat, to be ready for any further discovery that might be made. Lute also pulled in the little Commodore, who by this time was nearly exhausted with fatigue and fright. "There are two more missing," said the wretched youth. "Sylvia Bartland is one of them," said Mollie Kent, in tones of wildest affliction. "I have n't seen her at all! She would n't have gone in the yacht, if I had n't urged her." The wind had lulled, and yet the boat was drifting off. Rush took an oar to bring it back. "What are you doing?" he said to Lute. Lute had bethought him of his water-glass. He hauled up the big, bungling "toy" from under the thwart, thrust the broad end into the water, and, leaning low over the rail, looked down. What he saw was quite beyond his stammering astonishment to utter. On the dark bottom of the lake lay the handsome new yacht, partly on one side. Bright, waving gleams danced over it, caused by the sunshine passing through the waves. The deck, the tiller, the sloping mast, the sail sweeping off over the lower beam, were distinctly visible, with one object most wonderful of all. Down there, in the perfectly clear water, a young girl. She was resting partly on the deck, seemingly inclined to float; but two little hands in black lace mitts grasped a rope, which prevented her from rising. Dressed in pale pink, with a light blue scarf clasped by a gold pin; loose auburn hair, to which the white straw hat was still tied; and a sweet, beautiful, almost smiling face, with open eyes staring at vacancy — all played over by the chasing ripples of sun and shade. It did not look like death. It was more like a scene of enchantment, a fairy realm in the deep. "L-l-look!" said Lute, giving the instrument to Rush. "Keep the boat up, w-w-will you?" to the little Commodore, who obeyed with the meekness of utter despair and remorse. Rush looked, and was overboard the next moment, in a headlong plunge. Lute watched him through the glass, and saw with dismay that he did not descend half-way to the drowning girl, but soon began to swim off in a lateral direction, coming up while he still believed he was going down. "I can't see in the water!" said Rush, blowing at the surface. "If I could only keep my eyes open! I'll try again!" "It wont d-d-do! said Lute. "Put the boat ahead, will you?" to the little Commodore. “This is the rope she has hold of!" It was one of the halyards to which Mollie and her companion were clinging above. Sylvia, with the blind desperation of a drowning person, had caught hold and was clinging fast below. Thus the very effort she was instinctively making to save her life was destroying it. This he did, sliding his fingers along till they reached those of the drowning girl. He endeavored to unclasp them with one hand, holding one of her wrists with the other. To do so without violence was not so easy a task as he had supposed. His breath, which he was unable to retain, rose in bubbles to the surface. But he was resolved not to loose his hold of that wrist, and never to return to the upper world alone. He was struggling and groping, believing that something still held her down, when there came a rushing sound in his ears, and behold! he was at the surface with Sylvia Bartland in his arms. CHAPTER XXXIX. FROM THE SUNKEN YACHT. THE place where the yacht went down was hidden from the boat-house by a curve of the shore. But the news had reached there in the midst of the excitement over the swimming race. The crowd separated in a panic, and now boats were coming to the rescue. Mrs. Tinkham had never before had any experience in resuscitating the drowned. But she did not need to be taught that less water and more air was in such cases the immediate necessity, and she knew something of the right theory of producing that result. The Commodore's young sister was already so far restored as to be able to care for herself. She went over to the other two rescued girls in the bow, while Mrs. Tinkham and Letty took Sylvia in hand. Letty had quite got over her first hysterical emotion, and she now obeyed and helped her mother in a manner worthy of a Tinkham. They first turned Sylvia on her face, depressing her head, and opening her mouth to let the water run out. At the same time they compressed her lungs gently, to expel the exhausted air, allowing the chest to expand again and inhale fresh, by its own elastic force. While they continued these movements at intervals, trying to give her life with artificial breath, the boys were searching with the water-glass for the other missing girl. They discovered her under the shadow of the sail on the other side of the yacht. By this time the first boats had arrived. They had swimmers and even divers aboard. The Tinkhams, therefore, left them, with Commodore Foote, to recover the last of his victims, and with the other four pulled for home. How they pulled! People in boats or running wildly up the shore shouted at them; but they gave no heed. What Mollie Kent answered, they hardly heard or cared. Suddenly a boat, rowing furiously, turned in their wake, and the boys had a glimpse of a face they knew a sternly anxious face, white and terrible in its excitement, sending after them looks of entreaty, with wild words: "Tell me, I say! is she dead?" "No! no! I think not! I hope not!" replied Mollie Kent, excitedly. "It 's Lew Bartland and my brother!" she said, sobbing again. The boat came alongside, and, after a few words exchanged, darted off toward the shore. The Tinkham boys all this time neither spoke word. nor missed stroke, but continued to row their heavily freighted boat as if more than their own lives were at stake. Into the outlet they pulled, then down the river with the tide, to the mill. There, fortunately, they found Mart, who had remained to guard the premises and prepare still further for the Argonauts' expected attack. How quickly and utterly all thoughts of that were put out of his mind by the arrival of the boat with the shipwrecked girls! Sylvia was by this time recovering consciousness, in great bodily distress. He took her from his mother and sister, and bore her in his arms to the house; Lute and Rush and Letty following up the path over the bank with Mrs. Tinkham, in her wheeled chair, and the other drenched ones on their own feet. They had hardly entered the house, when Charley Kent and Lew Bartland arrived with a doctor they had picked up on the lake shore. Rupe and Rod came running after, carrying their tub, with the hammock, between them, and behind them flocked a crowd of people. Many of the spectators of the races had gone up toward the sunken yacht; others followed the rescued girls; so that in a few minutes there was on and about the premises more people than had ever been there before, except on the day when it seemed as if half Dempford and Tammoset assembled to see the dam destroyed. Very different motives brought them now- not curiosity merely and the love of sensation, but anxious sympathy and eagerness to help. Women offered their services. These were welcome, Mrs. Tinkham being well-nigh exhausted as well as lame, and the servant being away. Hot drinks were soon prepared, dry clothing was got for the wet ones, and Sylvia was warmed in bed. "The worst is over," the doctor had said, as soon as he touched her wrist. And now only good nursing was necessary to her complete restoration. Assured of this, Bartland and Kent and the two older Tinkhams embarked in Lew's boat and rowed with speed up the lake. They were too late to render any assistance to the lost girl. This was Kate Medway, one of the happiest of the five who were seen to set off so gayly in the Commodore's yacht less than an hour before. She had been taken from the water and borne to the nearest house, followed by a throng of horrified spectators, many of whom knew her and loved her; among them the little Commodore, capless, drenched, his wet hair not yet tossed back from his brow― a stricken, despairing man. A physician was on the spot. But either she had remained too long in the water, or the right thing had not been done for her the moment she was taken out. Neither skill nor love nor pity nor remorse could help her now. She was an only child; her father and mother were yet to be sent for. Who could bear to tell them the heart-rending news? The Tinkhams returned home with Bartland and Kent, having a little talk by the way. It was strange that not one of them spoke harshly of the author of the catastrophe. Only Lew said, “I always thought Web knew how to sail a boat!" Nothing more. CHAPTER XL. THE TIDE TURNS. WHEN all was over, and the four girls who were saved had been taken home by their grateful friends, and she who perished had also been taken home; when the lake was deserted, and a strange quiet reigned where there had been so much movement and merriment in the morning; then Mart, late that afternoon, said to his brothers, as they sat together in the willow-tree: "I was intending to put a lamp in the upper mill-window, where it would shine all night across the dam. I was going to be on hand myself, below, with the door open and the wooden cannon in position, and fire that charge of sand at the first marauders that came within range. I meant to let Dempford and Tammoset know that we were getting the least mite tired of being trifled with." "It seemed to be about t-t-time," said Lute. "But I've changed my mind,” Mart continued. "We 'll stop in the house to-night. I've a sort of notion that we 've tried war long enough. I believe there's something better. You've had a chance to try that to-day, boys,- you and Mother, and you 've done well. Now, after what has happened, if there are Argonauts who want to meddle with our dam to-night, I say let 'em!" "And let the w-w-world know it!" said Lute. "It's the best way!" Rush declared. "We have had fighting enough. I'm sick of it!" |