The Hero of Garside School

  CHAPTER XXVI

  WHAT HAPPENED ON THE RAFT

  Hibbert, a picture of terror, turned and fled towards the river, andPlunger and Harry, imagining for the moment that they had been set uponby real savages, promptly followed his example. The dusky figuresfollowed in pursuit, still yelling their outlandish cries.

  "Ka-pei, ka-pei! Houp, houp! O-jib-e-way! Koo-oo, koo-oo!"

  Hibbert ran as he had never run before in his life. Terror lent speed tohis feet. He had got the start of his companions, so that they only drewup to him as he reached the river.

  "Quick--the raft!" shouted Plunger. "They'll be on us in a minute."

  It was the raft for which Hibbert was making.

  "Ka-pei, ka-pei! Houp, Houp! O-jib-e-way! Koo-oo, koo-oo!"

  The cries of the pursuers drew nearer and nearer. Hibbert reached theraft and leapt on it.

  "Undo the rope! I'll push off!" panted Plunger.

  Harry never thought of the promise Plunger had made--that he should puntthe raft back. His only desire was that they should put the riverbetween them and their pursuers as quickly as possible. In less than amoment he had undone the rope which bound the raft to the bank, andleapt to Plunger's side. Brief as the space of time, it had enabled theforemost of their pursuers to reach the bank.

  "Push off, Freddy," cried Harry.

  Plunger pushed off in desperation. Too late! The foremost of thepursuers had followed them on to the raft. Plunger could see the duskyface looking into his. The raft had floated a little way from the bank.With another unearthly cry three more of the savage-looking figuresleapt on.

  The raft swayed ominously. Plunger made a wild endeavour to push furtherout into the stream. The raft lurched forward. There was a cry ofhorror, a splash, and the next moment three of the boys--Plunger,Hibbert, and one of "the savages"--were struggling in the water.

  The impetus given to the raft had taken it out into midstream, and whenthe three rose to the surface, it was at some distance from them. By theducking in the water the paint of the "noble savage" was running downhis face, and Plunger, in that terrible moment, recognized that it wasBaldry.

  Plunger knew little of swimming. Fortunately, Baldry knew more of itthan he did, and was able to clutch him by the arm and hold him up. Butthose on the raft saw with horror that they had floated right away fromHibbert, and that was he drowning before their eyes.

  Harry looked round for the punting-hole, in the hope that he might go tothe aid of the drowning boy. Alas! Plunger had carried the pole with himwhen he had fallen into the river, and it was now floating down thestream at some distance from them.

  "The Camel's drowning!" gasped Harry.

  The boys on the raft saw that he was. They had caught sight of the whiteface as it rose for the second time to the surface. And they stoodthere, transfixed horrified, at the tragedy that was taking place beforethem. Unable to find the punting-pole, Harry would have leapt into theriver, but Sedgefield, one of the "savages" who had jumped upon theraft, was just in time to clutch him by the arm and hold him back.

  "Look, Moncrief! That's Percival, isn't it?"

  Harry stood, trembling in every limb, on the edge of the raft, andfollowed the direction of Sedgefield's finger. Yes, Percival it was. Cutoff from the games of his companions, left entirely to himself, he hadbrought out his rod and line to pass an hour or so angling. While thusoccupied, he had heard the shouts and cries raised by the "savages" onthe opposite bank.

  "What's wrong?" he asked himself, as he stood quite still and listened.

  The shouting grew louder; the yells more unearthly, and in a tongue, asit seemed to him, he had never heard before.

  Dropping his rod, he raced along the bank, just in time to to see from adistance the raft push off with the boys upon it, and the disaster thatfollowed, as it floated further into the stream. He paused for aninstant as he breathlessly watched the scene; then raced forward at fullspeed, flung off his jacket, waistcoat, and boots, and struck out, handover hand, to where Hibbert was struggling in the water.

  Fortunately, Paul was a powerful swimmer. Even in his cradle his fatherhad taken his little hand in his large one, and, while looking lovinglyin his face, had said to the wife who sat beside him:

  "The son of a sea-dog, the son of a sea-dog! He must never know the fearof water."

  Alas! it was the cruel water which had carried off the father, but theson had grown up true to his wish--he had never known the fear of water.So he had become a bold and powerful swimmer. With a swift, sweepingside-stroke he reached Hibbert's side, just as he was sinking for thelast time. Clutching the drowning boy by the hair, he held him up; then,turning on his back, he drew him to his chest, and, kicking out with hisfeet, soon reached the bank.

  Placing the boy gently on the turf, Paul gazed anxiously into his face.The eyes were closed; the lips ghastly blue; the heart seemed still.

  "Hibbert, Hibbert!" cried Paul, as he tried to restore animation.

  No answer came to his pleading cry. The eyes still remained closed. Abig fear took possession of Paul. Had the eyes closed never to openmore? Had help come when it was too late? Was the little chap dead?Notwithstanding the fear that seized him, he did not relax his efforts,and presently, to his great joy, the lids fluttered, then opened, andthe eyes went up to his face. They were dazed, bewildered. Slowly a lookof recognition came into them.

  "Per--Percival!" came in a feeble whisper from the lips; then the lids,as though exhausted by the effort they had made, closed again.

  Danger was not yet past, but the boy lived, and Paul, breathing morefreely, looked round to see what had happened to the others. It had beena near thing with Baldry and Plunger. Baldry had supported Plunger forsome time, but neither had been able to reach the raft or the bank;while those on the raft were unable to move to their assistance. Thestrength of both was, therefore, giving out rapidly.

  "Let go of me, Baldry. Take care of yourself!" gasped Plunger.

  "Shan't Freddy," answered Baldry feebly. "Sit tight!"

  Even in that terrible moment, with death looming grimly before him,Plunger smiled faintly. Baldry's advice seemed so ludicrous. Sit tight!What was he to sit tight on? They grew fainter every moment.

  "God, help us!" was the prayer that came from the heart of Baldry.

  Human help seemed to have failed them. So, at least, it seemed; butPaul, looking up from Hibbert at this moment, his heart gladdened athearing his name, saw the dilemma in which they were placed--the perilin which they stood. Unless assistance soon reached them, they must gounder.

  What was to be done? He could not see them drown before his eyes.Yet--yet, if he were to leave Hibbert, what would happen to him? It wastrue that he had opened his eyes and spoken, but perhaps that was onlythe last feeble flicker of the candle. Paul's hand went quickly to theboy's heart. It was still beating, though feebly. Again his eyes went towhere Baldry and Plunger were making a desperate fight for life. Threelives were trembling in the balance.

  The prayer that had come from Baldry's lips a moment since came fromPaul's.

  "God, help me! What am I to do?"

  He gave another swift glance into Hibbert's face. It seemed to smile athim, as though in answer to his prayer. "Go," it seemed to say. Thenext instant Paul plunged into the river, swimming towards the two boys,with the same swift stroke which had enabled him to reach Hibbert'sside.

  As he cut through the water, his right hand struck against something.His fingers closed round it. It was the punting-pole that Plunger hadlost, and which had been partly responsible for the accident. God hadanswered his prayer. He had helped him. It would have been impossiblefor him to have saved the two fast-drowning boys by his own unaidedefforts. Now it was possible.

  "Catch hold!" he cried, as he directed one end of the pole to Baldry andPlunger.

  They eagerly gripped it; then, grasping the other end, Paul swam toshore. It was a strange freight he was towing--two human lives. And hisheart seemed beating like the valve of a steam-tug as he rea
ched thebank and pulled his freight ashore.

  "You're a brick--that's what you are, Percival!" were the first wordsthat Plunger gasped, as he struggled, with the water dripping from him,up the bank.

  Baldry's eyes had gone to the still figure lying on the grass.

  "It's--it's the Camel! What--what's wrong with him?" he asked, as hestood gazing at the still form. "Is--is he dead?"

  "I hope not--I think not," said Paul, as he raised the slight figure inhis arms. "I must leave you fellows to look after yourselves."

  So saying, holding Hibbert close to him, he hastened along the road thatled to the school. Once or twice he paused to make sure that Hibbert'sheart was beating. Yes; it was still beating, though feebly: havingreassured himself, he hurried on again with his burden.

  The road seemed longer to him than it had ever been before; but atlength he drew near, and his eyes went up to the first thing that aGarside boy usually looked to--the old flag.

  He could scarcely believe his eyes. Were they mocking him, or was heunder a delusion? The flag did not seem to be flying there.

  "My eyes are playing tricks with me," he thought as he hurriedbreathless into the grounds.

  A few steps more and he met Stanley. He stopped and regarded Paul withsurprise. He advanced a step, as though with the intention of speakingto him, but quickly changing his mind, went on his way. Paul clenchedhis teeth hard and staggered on with his burden. Luckily it was only alight one.

  Reaching the schoolhouse door, he met Waterman coming from it.

  "Percival! What are you fagging with there?" For once Waterman wasgenuinely roused. "An accident? Why, it's young Hibbert. What'shappened?"

  "He's had a ducking in the river. Run for Dr. Clack--as quickly as youcan."

  Waterman needed no second bidding. His natural indolence of manner,under which was hidden much more energy than people gave him credit for,vanished on the instant. He darted off at the top of his speed. Paul didnot relinquish his burden till, under the direction of the matron, hehad placed it on a bed in the sick dormitory.

  "A doctor must be fetched," said the matron, as Hibbert's eyes remainedclosed, in spite of her efforts to bring him back to consciousness.

  "Waterman's gone for Dr. Clack."

  "That's right. The poor little fellow's in a bad way. Oh, you boys--youboys!" came in a sigh from the matron's lips. "Always in mischief. Whopushed him into the river?"

  "Nobody pushed him. He fell in, so far as I could see."

  Paul did not tell her that two more Gargoyles had fallen into the riverat the same time, for fear of alarming her still more.

  "Why didn't you stop him from playing about on the river? You're oldenough to know better," said Mrs. Trounce wrathfully.

  Paul stood silent under this rebuke. He had not explained all thecircumstances of the accident--so far, at least, as he knew them--forfear of implicating the other boys. He had caught a glimpse of thesavage "get-up" of Baldry and his companions, and the black stains onHibbert's face, which had only been partially washed away by the water.He guessed, therefore, that there was more in the accident than at firstmet the eye.

  "If he dies we shall have the police here a-makin' all sorts ofinquiries," continued the angry matron. "And I shouldn't wonder if theytook you off to the lock-up, and brought you up before a judge and jury.And serve you right, ses I. You elder boys want a lesson. Instead ofstopping the little fellow from playing on the river, you encouragedhim, I expect. I know the way you big boys have. You use the paws of thelittle ones to pull out the roast chestnuts. It's disgraceful, I callit."

  Thus the matron poured out the vials of her wrath on Paul's head, whileshe busied herself at the same time in doing all she could to restorethe patient to consciousness. Her words fell unheeded on Paul's ears. Hewas watching the face of Hibbert, and wondering whether the eyes wouldever open again, and look up to him as they had looked up to him on thatday when he had put his hand timidly on his shoulder and whispered:

  "You look so wretched and miserable I could not help coming to you.You're not angry with me, are you?"