# Roy Blakeley's Adventures in Camp/Chapter XV

CHAPTER XV
TELLS ABOUT AN ACCIDENT
THE next thing I knew there was a loud splash and I heard the spring-board down on the shore crack, and when I looked there I could see it jumping up and down.
I knew what that meant.
"Who dived?" Westy shouted; "he must be crazy! He can't make it. Hurry up, let's get a boat out! Do you hear the voice now?"
After that everything seemed to happen all in a jumble. Westy and Doc and I ran to the landing and got one of the boats off, while the fellows up on the porch shouted to the fellow who had dived to come back, because he couldn't make it. I heard one fellow yell, "You're crazy; come back while you can! They're getting a boat out!"
I was so busy helping to push the boat into deep water that I didn't think any more about the fellow who dived, only I supposed he must have turned back. I heard the fellows shouting, but I didn't pay any attention. Out on the lake I could ​hear the voice now calling help, and it sounded creepy, like a person trying to call while he's gargling.
Doc said, "It's all up with him; hurry, anyway."
It was pretty hard getting the boat started, be. tause the wind kept blowing it ashore, and we had to pull and tug for all we were worth. I got in back of it and shoved out till I was beyond my, depth, then jumped in while Dock and Westy pulled for all they were worth, trying to get her ahead.
I guess most everybody at the camp was up on the porch by now, and there were a lot crowding on the spring-board.
"Pull hard," Doc said; "the next cry will be the last one; I know the sound."
Just then we heard a long cry, but it didn't say any word, just h—e—e—
And then it stopped.
Doc said, "Pull hard anyway; you steer her, Roy. Right over there—a little to the left—you can see the canoe."
I looked over there and saw it upset and no one was near it.
I can't tell you all about what happened. I ​tried and tore up three pages. Because it makes me all excited myself, as you might say. I can hear that crowd on the porch shoutng just as plain as on that very day it happened. And every time it rains and it's dark and windy, it reminds me of it too. The next thing I knew we were right close beside two fellows and Westy was holding them and shouting, "Let go, I've got him!"
The fellow who wouldn't let go was Skinny.
I can't tell you about how he looked—honest, I just can't tell you. But there was blood on his face just the same as I saw in the dream—as sure as I'm sitting here, there was. He had hold of the camping fellow's mackinaw jacket with his teeth and the fellow's mouth was stretched wide open and Skinny's hand was clutching his teeth and chin and holding his head above water that way. It wasn't like any rule for holding a drowning fellow, anyway, no rule I ever heard of. Even now I can see that skinny little white hand straining to hold that mouth and chin, and afterward I saw how there was a cut across Skinny's fingers where the fellow's teeth had pressed. Skinny's arm was shaking just like a rope shakes when it's pulled too tight and his eyes were staring and crazy.
​While I kept the boat steady, Doc leaned out and pressed Skinny's jaws so as to make his teeth let go. And even then when we dragged him in over the stern, he had a piece of mackinaw jacket in his mouth.
I said, "Skinny, don't act crazy, he's saved," but he only sat on the back seat trembling all over as if he had a fit. It wasn't because he was cold, it was just because he was excited and crazy like.
I didn't notice the camping fellow much after I saw that he was alive and that Doc had him breathing all right. Westy took the oars but I couldn't help him on account of Skinny. And I couldn't do much for Skinny either. He was gone clean out of his head and started screaming, "I did it; I did it!"
I said, "Yes, you did it; try to be quiet and get rested now. Can't you see he's all right?"
"I held him up till you came," he panted; "I'm a hero. I want to go and be all by myself, I do."
I said, "Hsh, Skinny, listen—"
"He called me!" Skinny shouted; "he called me out loud!"
"I know," I said, "and you went. Sure, you're a hero." But of course, I knew the fellow never ​called him at all. Anyway, maybe the wind made it sound that way to him.
He just sat there shaking all over and staring wild, "Three times," he panted out, "and that's the last—I—I got my hand in his mouth before—before—he said it—I did. That's the way murderers do—it is. I did it. Even I know how to strangle―I do. I'm a hero!"
I said, "Listen here, Alf, you're a wonder—"
"I―I—I—could kill you if I wanted to!" he screamed; "I can do anything—I can sneak—stalk—I can take things out of your pocket—I can choke people—I—"
That's just the way he went on and I saw he had gone all to pieces, maybe from the strain, and didn't know what he was saying. I just put my arm around him and I could feel that he was shaking all over, but it wasn't anything like a chill.
He kept saying, "I want to be alone by myself now."
I said, "Alf, listen a minute—please. You can go and be alone by yourself. You can go in our patrol cabin and I'll chase all the fellows out. I know how you feel. It was wonderful, Alf. Try to get quieted down now. You saved him."
"I—I can bite," he said.
​I said, "Yes, I know; but try to take it easy now, because we're coming to shore. You have to act like a real hero."
But as soon as we came into shallow water he jemped out of the boat and scooted around the edge of the pavilion, like a wild animal. In a couple of seconds everybody in camp was around the boat, waiting to hear what the camp doctor said. As soon as I knew that the fellow was going to be all right, I went away to find Skinny. No one else seemed to miss him.
Pretty soon I heard a voice calling, "What's your hurry, Blakeley?" and I turned around and saw Bert Winton hurrying to catch up to me.
"I'm going to look for that kid," I said.
For about half a minute we walked along together, and then he said kind of quiet, sort of, "Do you think he's crazy?"
"I don't think he's exactly crazy," I said; "but he's all gone to pieces."
"He sounded crazy from the shore," he said.
"He didn't know what he was saying, anybody could tell that," I answered him.
"What did he do?" Winton asked me.
"Oh, he just nearly killed him trying to save him," I said.
​"Hmph," Winton said.
"He'll be all right," I told him.
"Most of the fellows here think he's crazy," he said. "Last night they could hear him way out on the lake, boasting about his father stealing silver. 'Better keep your watch under your pillow and let Uncle Jeb take care of your coin,' that's what all the fellows are saying."
"Is that what you're saying?" I said.
"I'm not saying anything," he shot back.
"You saw what he just did," I told him.
"I saw what he just did," he said.
"You don't seem to be very excited about it," I shot back at him again.
"What's the good of getting excited?" he said.
"Do you think he's crazy and a thief?" I asked him,
"I think he may be a little crazy—at times," he said. "As to being a thief—" And then he screwed his mouth up, but didn't say anything more,
"A hero-thief," I said, kind of sarcastic, for the way he talked made me mad.
'He's sure a hero," he said.
"I'm glad you think so," I told him. "Heroes aren't usually thieves, are they?"
​"Not as a rule," he said, kind of quiet and all the while kicking a stone.
"Well then," I said.
"Well then," he said too.
"Well then, there you are," I spoke up.
"Well then, here we are," he said, with an awful funny smile, "and the question is, where is the little skinny fellow?"
"I guess I can find him without any help from you," I said.
Then he walked away. Cracky, maybe I couldn't understand Skinny very well, but I sure couldn't understand Bert Winton at all.