# Half a Dozen Boys/Chapter 13
### CHAPTER XIII.
#### THE BOYS MEET AN OLD FRIEND.

“Help! Help! He-e-elp!”
It was a boy’s voice that rang out across the waters of the Saint Lawrence, from a dainty little rowboat that was lazily drifting down the river. The boy was Rob. He stood up in the bow of the boat, looking to the right and left for help; while Fred had dropped to the seat in the stern, where he sat, white and still, waiting and listening.
“Nobody yet,” said Rob, trying to speak bravely, although his tone was far from cheerful. “We shall run across somebody soon.”
“Aren’t there some rapids down below here?” asked Fred anxiously.
“Ye-es,” admitted Rob. “But I don’t know just where they are. They’re the salt—something or other. I’ve heard cousin Alice tell about going through them in a steamer. I wish I’d studied my geography a little more. ​and then I’d have known how far down they are.”
This was the outcome of Rob’s fishing, expedition. Early that August afternoon, he and Fred had gone down to the lower end of the island, at some distance from the house. After Rob had fished for a half-hour, with but poor success, he proposed to Fred that they should sit in the little green and white boat that was drawn up on shore, and he would fish from there. Fred fell in with the idea, and the next minute the boys were luxuriously lounging in the stern, quite unconscious of the fact that their motions had rocked the boat until it had left the bank and was quietly drifting off down towards the Atlantic, with never an oar on board.
If the boys had but known it, their situation was far from alarming. It was still quite early, so there were yet several hours of daylight before them, and they would soon be seen and rescued. Still, it was not exactly pleasant to be slowly moving away from home, with a very uncertain prospect of returning in time for dinner. And added to Rob’s alarm for him​self was the uncomfortable feeling that he had been the means of getting Fred into a scrape, and that cousin Alice would wish she had not invited him to her house.
“Boat ahoy!” called a clear voice across the
water.
Rob looked around and saw a little boat with one occupant suddenly turn from the shore, where it was creeping along in the shade, and come darting towards them, with a long, steady sweep of the oars that told of an experienced rower. He answered the call, and then turned to communicate the good news to Fred, as the other boat came quickly alongside.
“Throw me your painter,” said the young man who was in the boat; “I’ll take you in tow. But how did you two youngsters ever happen to get in such a plight?”
Rob briefly explained their situation, honorably taking all the blame for the carelessness.
“Well, never mind. You’d better come into this boat,” said their rescuer. “I can row you better that way.”
“Boat Ahoy!”—Page 236
“Now,” went on the stranger, when they were settled, and the other boat made fast, “where are you boys trying to go? And where did you come from?”
“Island Den,” answered Rob. “Perhaps you don’t know where that is, but it’s up by the hotel. We’ll be ever so much obliged if you will take us back.”
“I can do it as well as not,” said their new friend. “I am on my way to the hotel now. And I do know Island Den, for I was going to call there to-morrow.”
“Why, do you know cousin Jack?” asked Rob in astonishment.
“If cousin Jack is Mr. Rogers,” said the stranger, laughing at Rob’s surprise, “I know him quite well. But how does it happen that I have never heard of this small cousin?”
“Oh, he’s no real cousin. Cousin Alice, Mrs. Rogers, is my cousin, and I’ve never been ​here before. I’m Rob Atkinson, and I came here with cousin Bess and Fred, this fellow, three days ago.”
At the mention of these three names, a sudden idea seemed to cross the young man’s mind, and, looking closely at Fred again, he said,—
“I thought I had seen Fred before, and now I know I have.”
“Yes,” assented Fred quietly. “I knew your voice as soon as you and Bob began talking. Aren’t you Mr. Muir?”
“I certainly am,” he answered, “and very glad to see you again. I was sure I knew your face as soon as I saw you. And this is the Rob who tied up the cat’s feet in papers, is it?”
“Oh, Mr. Muir,” began Rob, blushing at the recollection, “I didn’t”—
“Never mind that,” said Mr. Muir; “but how odd that Miss Carter should be related to Mrs. Rogers, and that I should meet her up here!”
“They’re sisters,” said Rob, “but cousin Alice is lots older. She’s real nice, but she ​isn’t like cousin Bess one bit, and I don’t think I like her as well.”
Fred looked horrified at Rob’s alarming frankness, but Mr. Muir only laughed, as he said,—
“I think perhaps I agree with you, Rob.”
As the boat drew near the landing, no one was in sight about the piazza or lawn of Island Den. Frank Muir pulled out his watch.
“Only half-past three now,” he said, as if to himself; “still, I think I shall risk a call, even if it is rather early, and I am not in full dress. Rob, do you think your cousins would see me now? As long as I am all here, I think I’ll not go away without seeing them.”
“Oh, I’m sure they will,” said Rob confidently, as he offered his arm to Fred, and they turned towards the house. As they came under the windows, he called out loudly,—
“Cousin Bess, come on down here! Fred and I were carried off down the river, and I want to tell you how we got home again.”
“In just a minute, Rob,” answered Bessie’s voice from above.
Rob turned to his new friend with a smile of pleased anticipation.
​“I thought I’d give her a surprise party,” he explained, “and not tell her you were here.”
Now it happened that the day was so warm that the sisters, feeling safe from all interruption, were lounging in Alice’s room, having a long afternoon rest before dressing for dinner. At Rob’s summons, Bess hastily twisted up her hair, put on a long wrapper of some creamy, clinging wool, and thrust her feet into an ancient pair of slippers, whose soles and uppers were rapidly parting company. Thus attired, she ran lightly down the stairs, and out on the piazza, exclaiming,—
“What have you boys been”—
And then stopped aghast, as she caught sight of Mr. Muir, who rose to meet her.
“There! I told you she’d be astonished,” commented Rob triumphantly. “Only think, cousin Bess, he found us floating off down the river, and he knows cousin Alice and all.”
A week later, Rob was waked early one morning by a sound of splashing water. For a moment he lay in that pleasant interval between sleeping and waking, dreamily listening to the morning twittering of the birds, and ​feeling vaguely that something very pleasant was in prospect. But an inquisitive sunbeam would shine directly into his eyes, and, as he rolled over, he opened them to find that Fred was not in bed.
“Why, Fred, where are you?” he exclaimed.
“Here,” responded a voice from the other side of the room. “I haven’t been asleep for ever so long, and my face felt so funny and hot I got up to put some cold water on it. I don’t know what’s the matter, but it feels so queer.”
Rob raised his head from the pillow, and eyed his friend curiously for a moment.
“Queer!” he said then, “I should think it might! You just ought to see yourself, Fred Allen. It’s all red and speckled—I’ll tell you, you must have hit some poison yesterday morning when we were out in the woods.”
“I wonder if that is it,” said Fred rather disconsolately. “My head aches enough to have it almost anything. How long does it last, Bob?”
“Oh, two or three weeks,” answered Rob encouragingly. “I’ve been poisoned lots of times, and it’s horrid. Pretty soon you’ll be​gin to itch, and then you mustn’t scratch it, or it will be worse. Want me to call cousin Bess?”
“Not now,” said Fred, as he struck the repeater that his father had bought for him soon after his return from Boston. “Only five o’clock, three hours to breakfast time. It would be too bad to disturb her.”
Rob subsided into drowsiness for a few moments, but his conscience would not let him sleep, when he knew Fred was so uncomfortable.
“I’ll tell you, Fred,” he said suddenly, “they told me once, just as I was getting over it, that plantain leaves are good for poison. You just keep quiet, and I’ll go look for some.”
And he sprang out of bed and hastily pulled on his clothes, without stopping for shoes and stockings. Out he ran, barefooted, over the dewy lawn, looking here and there for the coveted plant. But it was not in vain that Jack Rogers had a fine gardener for his summer home, and to the water’s edge the smooth, even turf was broken by no weed. At last, out by the back door, Rob discovered two of the ​green leaves, and, seizing them in triumph, he tiptoed up the stairs, past Bessie’s door, to his own room.
“I’ve found two, Fred,” he announced. “I’ve forgotten just how they said use them, but I think it was just to put them on outside. You’d better put one on each cheek, for they are the worst.”
“How shall I make them stay?” asked Fred, after trying to balance the smooth, slippery things on his face.
Bob pondered a moment.
“Wet them,” he suggested. “That ought to make them stick.”
And he crept into bed again, clothes and all, and quite regardless of the mingled dew and dust on his small hare feet.
“I don’t see why I had to go and get poisoned,” said Fred, as he thoughtfully rubbed his puffy countenance. “Just the last of the time we’re to be here, too.”
“Say, Fred,” asked Rob suddenly, “don’t you wish we hadn’t found Mr. Muir that day?”
“I should say he found us,” said Fred. “But I like him ever so much; don’t you?”
​“Not very well. He’s nice enough, but he’s been round all the time. He has been here every single day, and cousin Bess is always playing tennis or going rowing with him, when I want her to do something, and— Hullo! there goes one of your leaves.” And Rob carefully replaced it on the reddest part of Fred’s face.
“Well,” said Fred, “she’s always ready to do things for me. Mr. Muir is here ever so much, I know, and somebody has to entertain him; but Mrs. Rogers is generally busy, so I suppose Miss Bess has to do it.”
“I don’t think she minds much,” replied Rob grimly. “And last night, you know, I told you it was bright moonlight, and they were out on the piazza ever so long. After you went to sleep, I heard them. I don’t want him round in the way, and I am glad we are going home next week. And, you know, Fred, she always dresses up when he comes.”
“I don’t see what that’s for,” answered Fred loyally. “She’s always pretty enough.”
“Yes, I know,” said Rob loftily, from the height of his thirteen years’ experience of life ​and its problems; “but women do that kind of thing, when they like anybody. Say, how do you feel, Fred?”
“Horrid!” said Fred tersely.
“Didn’t those leaves do any good?” inquired Rob, as he sat up in bed.
“Not yet, Bob. But I wish Miss Bess needn’t know, for to-day they’re all going on that picnic up the river, and I’m afraid she won't go.”
“Can’t you?” asked Rob anxiously, for as this was to be the crowning festivity of their visit, his heart had been set on it, and ever since he had discovered Fred’s poison, he had been longing, yet fearing, to start the subject.
“I don’t feel much like it,” said Fred. “I don’t care at all, for picnics aren’t as much fun for me as they used to be.” Here Rob gave his friend’s hand a consoling squeeze. “But you can all go and leave me, Bob. I shall be all right, and I want you to go just the same.”
When Rob entered the breakfast-room, two hours later, he said to his cousin,—
“1 wish you’d go up to Fred, a minute.”
​“Is anything the matter?” asked Bess, who was always anxious about her charge.
“No, only he doesn’t feel very well,” answered Rob, as he followed her out of the room. When they were alone in the hall, he went on hurriedly, “He’s poisoned a little, I think, but he doesn’t feel like going to-day, and he wants us all to go and leave him. You make him think we will, and I'll start with you, and then, after you are gone, I’ll come back to the house again. I truly don’t care about it.”
Bess read her little cousin’s generous motive, and as they went up the stairs, she insisted that he should join the frolic, and let her stay; but Rob held firm, and she had to yield, much against her will, for she knew how the boy had anticipated the day’s fun.
A striking picture met Bessie’s gaze, as she went into the boys’ room. Fred had attempted to get up, as usual, but after dressing, he felt so ill and miserable, that he had thrown himself down again. His face had swollen until his eyes were half closed, and its ruddy hue was heightened by its contrast with his white ​flannel blouse and the two bright green leaves that Rob had again plastered on his face, just before he went down-stairs. The remedy, applied in that way, was so original that Rob was at once dubbed “the doctor,” a name that clung to him, to his disgust, till the end of the visit.
It was hard to see the gay party starting off in their three boats; Mr. Muir rowing Bess in the first. Jack, Alice, and the children in a second, and the third in charge of a servant, with a tent and the lunch. Several friends from the hotel were to meet them, and among them was one little girl, with whom Rob had established quite a friendship. Yes, it would be great fun, but there was Fred, blind, ill, and alone, and the thought of his friend helped him to smile bravely and answer decidedly all their entreaties to go.
“I think Fred doesn’t need you,” Bess had said. “I am glad to have you willing to stay, Robin, but I am sure he really won’t mind being alone.”
“I’d rather stay,” said Rob, and nothing could change his purpose.
​But as the boats vanished around a point of land, Bob’s resolution failed, and for a moment his face twitched. Then he started off, and tramped twice around the shore of the little island, as if running a race with himself. That done, he went into Bessie’s room, took a book that she was reading aloud to Fred, and presented himself before the boy, who, now stripped of his foliage, had settled himself for a long, dull day.
“Got left,” he said briefly, as he seated himself.
And Fred understood the sacrifice.