The splashing cries which came from the feathered edges of the bathing-pool rushed toward her like a great water-wave tipped with foreign foam2, about which there was nothing articulate until, presently, the spray of one clear shriek3 was tossed up: “’Becca! Rebecca!”
The Morning-Glory’s face was a very white flower now, all crumpled4 by fear, as was the flattened5 parcel she hugged, the parcel that was to have worked a metamorphosis.
“’Becca she—she go down, stay down, under de water. She haf eat de green apple—she sick—she down under de water—she not come up—eugh!” So the spray-like shriek spread itself out into a cloud of words as a little French girl of six or seven in a bathing-suit came flying, wild-eyed, toward the one tall figure she saw, the girl with shiny blue glass buttons on her blouse, who frantically6 hugged a small parcel.
“Where? Where? Show me where!” The figure dropped the parcel with a scream and seized the hand of the newsbearer. “Show me where!”
Down into the feathery ripples7—the tiny ripples that broke so gently upon their earthy rim8 as if protesting that their shallow innocence9 couldn’t do any harm—they went together, barelegged child and skirted girl who didn’t even wait to toss off a shoe.
“’Becca she canno’ speak—no’ cry, like me—jus’ ketch her ‘tummy’ an’ fall—no’ come up!” The raving10 child vivaciously11 illustrated12 her meaning by pounding with a wet left fist upon her own little rounded stomach, rather full of unripe13 apples, too.
“Where? Where?” was all the girl could say. “Drowning! She must be drowning in two or three feet of water—lying on the bottom of the bathing-pool!” raged her thought, storming like a thunderclap in her ears.
The sheet-like pool was wide and wan14, covering half an acre, no depth of color anywhere, except where the brilliant afternoon sun created an island sunburst in the water around the fountain and where near the pool’s edge it showed topsy-turvy, moving pictures, pink and yellow, of children standing15 or promenading16 on their heads, as if in fear.
Jessica’s agonized17 promenade18 was short and splashing. Now the water rose above her knees as she dragged herself and her clothing through it! “Where? Where?” was still all her seemingly water-logged tongue could say.
“I’ll t’ink some dere—dere she’ll go down,—’Becca!” answered, at last, the pluckily19 wading20, little French child, who clung to her right hand, pointing to a rainbow-shaft from the fountain leveled downward, too, like an exploring finger.
And there the rainbow and Jessica found her—at the burnished21 point to which she in her dumb play had waded22 forth23 through two feet and a half of water to catch that rainbow—lying all dressed in the old grey frock and broken footwear beneath the island sunburst of the fountain.
Here the girl, looking down, saw a dark spot, a hair-fringed mound24 upon the pool’s bottom, barely covered by a glassy inch or two of ripples—head submerged!
With a choking cry she stooped and dragged it up, lifted it. She was strong and athletic25 for her seventeen years, but her whole girlish framework rocked and shuddered26, almost collapsed27, as she did so, bowed by an unexpected gust28 of weight.
The dumb child was eight years old, stout29 and chunky; now, unconscious, clogged30 by the leaden weight of water in her little clothing, swamped by green fruit, she would have made a taxing burden for a man.
“Father—Father in Heaven, give me strength—help me—strength to carry her out of the pool! Strength, Father—strength!”
Half-aloud, irrepressibly, the cry that ever comes first in dire31 need rocked between the young girl’s parted, gasping33 lips—she rocking with it, to the roots, like a sapling in flood.
The childish mound of weight and water sank again until it touched the glassy ripples, seeming as if it dragged her very flesh with it, while the French child, submerged to her wallowing armpits, moaned beside her.
Then the round, strained arm that flashed with the silver of the Fire Maker’s bracelet34, aided by its fellow, managed, somehow, to gather up that leaden weight again, to hold it above the thin sheet of water, to start with it, staggering toward the earthen bank.
“Is she drowned—dead? How long did she lie there? How far can I carry her?” The questions spun35 like a water-worked wheel in Jessica’s brain, grinding out each staggering step. “Oh! isn’t it horrible? And we were going to dress her up! The frock I made her! Green apples! Cramp36!... Oh, I’m letting her down! It’s too much. I—c-can’t!”
The girl’s dizzy gaze swam before her to the bank. She saw the catalpa tree—a hundred miles off! She saw strange, steely shapes of playground apparatus37 on another continent, as it were. Dimly she beheld38 the forms of other girls, her companions, who had come with her, wading through the light, crisp feathers of water to her help.
Then she saw something else. She heard a shout. Down the playground slope to the innocent looking pool’s edge, like an arrow launched from nowhere, tore a brown figure, coming at the rate of a hundred yards to a dozen seconds.
It was a knightly39 figure, tall, slimly erect40, with green and red stripes, together with many rich, quivering points of color flashing in an embroidered41 jumble42 upon its right sleeve, the highest color-point green that gleamed like an emerald eye against a blood-red background as the flying water hit it.
And where she wore the silver of rank upon her braceleted arm, tortured in a half-fainting effort to struggle onward43 with her dripping burden, it showed a kindred gleam of silver in the eagle drooping44 from a red, white, and blue ribbon on its left breast.
“Hang on, just a second! Hold up—I’ll take her!” It seemed to be the American Eagle, dangling45 from the tricolored ribbon, that screamed the encouragement.
Another second, and the arm that wore the Fire Maker’s bracelet, typical of the fire at the heart that waters could not quench46, had yielded its unconscious burden—swamping cargo47 of green apples and all—to that stronger right arm with the dancing specks48 of color upon the sleeve.
“Do you know how long she’s been under water? One of the children just told me what was going on here!” panted the newcomer with the silver eagle on his breast as he laid poor little Rebecca, silent forever, as it seemed, face downward, upon the nearest patch of playground grass where the sunbeams mocked her wet, weed-like hair and the broken old shoes, as full of water, now, as she was herself.
“I don’t know how long she lay there—on the bottom of the pool.” Involuntarily Jessica pressed her left hand to her heart which was doing strange “stunts,” while with her right she helped the tired French child to the bank.
“And I don’t know whether there’s life in her still or not!” The lad in khaki had breathlessly flung his broad, olive-green hat upon the grass and was stretching Rebecca’s limp arms out on either side of her head, not a quiver of which gave token that the torch of her dumb existence was still alight in some covert49 corner of her dripping body. He looked up at the other four girls, Jessica’s companions, who, wet about the ankles, were hovering50, pale-faced, near. “One or two of you had better run to the nearest pay-station and telephone for a doctor,” he gasped51, “if there isn’t a doctor’s office near. We may not be able to bring her to! It may take the pulmotor—I could use that if we had it. Turn her face a little to one side, so that she can get the air!” This to his fellow-worker, Jessica, who obeyed, her breath hissing52 between her teeth in long, shivering, yearning53 gasps54.
“Who’d ever have thought of any child drowning in that toy pool—two feet an’ a half of water at deepest?” groaned55 the lad as he knelt astride of the prostrate56 little figure, now looking haggard and horrified57.
“Two feet and a half of water—and green apples!” Jessica corrected him.
His hands were quickly finding the spaces between the rigid58 little limbs. Alternately he pressed with all the weight of his strong young shoulders upon them, then relaxed, setting up a bellows-like motion to expel the playground pool—as much of it as ’Becca had swallowed—from her air-passages and draw in fresh air.
“Could you get at my watch in my vest pocket and time this?”
Jessica obeyed.
“Two of the girls have gone to find a doctor,” she said, glancing at the disappearing forms of Sally and Betty. “Keep away; we mustn’t get too near”—this to the other two—“we mustn’t take the air from her.”
“You know something about first aid then; are you timing59 this work? It ought to be about a dozen strokes to a minute.” The bestriding lad directed his question to the first rescuer—the girl-rescuer—by the motion of an eyelid60, the while his strong hands, tanned to the color of his khaki uniform, rose and fell rhythmically61 upon the framework of ’Becca’s dumb little heart, he trying so hard to breathe for her through those brown hands, to force artificial respiration62.
The silver swooping63 eagle above his heaving heart shook and palpitated with his efforts.
A redness grew under his eyes, as under Jessica’s, where horror and anxiety laid their congesting fingers.
But the many rich points of color upon his khaki sleeve, yellow, green, red, white, each of them a little embroidered design in silk, mingled64 their merits with the sunbeams which wove of them a rich arabesque65 that flashed and played beneath the most noticeable of the badges, the emerald eye against a blood-red background which shone, green as hope, when he took the little victim of the bathing-pool from Jessica’s arms.
No peering eye, indeed, this merit badge, but the green cross of the first aid, awarded for proficiency66 in succor67, hopeful still upon its red ground, enclosed in a green circle.
Suddenly that verdant68 hope of which it spoke69 blossomed! It thrilled and rioted through Jessica.
“Oh! perhaps we sha’n’t need a doctor—or the pulmotor. I saw her eyelids70 quiver. She may not have been three minutes under water.” The timing watch in the girl’s hand shook. “Keep off the other children, Olive—Arline—don’t let them get near, to draw the oxygen from her!”
Yes, slowly the breath of life was wavering back into its dumb tabernacle: through ’Becca’s blue, swollen71 lips came a slow, uncertain shiver, drawn72 from the hands working upon her, a quivering gasp32.
“Oh! can’t I rub her a little now, toward the heart—to start it up—I know just how; I have a Red Cross diploma for first aid—I’m a Camp Fire Girl!” The sobbing74, gurgling exclamation75 burst from Jessica; on the heels of the sob73 came a little whistling, thrush-like note like the beginning of a song, a song of succor.
“Yes, I think you might—now—while I ‘piece in’ her breathing.”
“Here, Olive, you hold the watch; it isn’t so important to time the pressures any more; she’s coming round—coming round all right!”
With the timepiece upon her palm ticking little Rebecca’s life back, measuring the intervals76 between her reviving gasps, Olive stood and watched.
Golden lad! Dripping girl, a year his junior! Camp Fire Girl! Eagle Scout77! Together they worked and rubbed. And life, kindly78 life, so reluctant to quit even a dumb tabernacle, answered their call, stealing upon slow wings of returning circulation through the silent child’s body.
Suddenly the timepiece trembled in the hand that held it. That of which Olive had spoken in the library as swelling79 up so big in her at times; the nameless tide of a young girl’s ideals, of her rapture80 at beauty, her adoration81 of the Father’s Presence she saw in it, her dim drawings toward service and hero-worship; that impulsive82 tide rose so high in her now that it had to find a temporary outlet83 in the tears of agitation84 and relief stealing down her cheeks.
Only a temporary one! Olive had groped girlishly to find a channel of self-expression for that tide; she had tried to let it ooze85 out of her in rhyming, to work it off in painting—or attempts thereat.
But here she was quivering from head to foot with the sudden discovery that in the living picture before her, the prostrate child and those two kneeling figures upon the playground grass, there was something nobler than pen or paint-brush could depict86, the highest form of self-expression.
And her heart surging up within her vaguely87 named that picture, “Succor.”
Succor was in the healing warmth of the sunlight that, now again, made its brightness felt.
Succor seemed waving its wings among the branches of the near-by willow-tree that brooded over the scene—not one helpless wing, but two: the Will to help and the trained Ability to do it.
Three hours later two girls sat one on each side of a cot in the children’s ward1 of a city hospital. Things had happened in the meantime. A doctor had arrived in an automobile88 and after some gentle soundings and poundings of ’Becca’s anatomy89 to locate the undigested fruit that swamped her, had carried her off to the hospital, declaring that her after treatment was important.
The after treatment she was receiving now was in the shape of a big waxen queen doll from Olive, a creature that could mechanically call upon its royal parents by the titles of “Papa” and “Mamma,” as its little human owner couldn’t.
“It seemed too bad that she shouldn’t have some present, seeing that we couldn’t dress her up to-day—or for many days to come,” remarked Olive Deering, looking across at Jessica who was holding the dumb child’s stubby little fingers. “I wish we knew the name of the Boy Scout who helped you to save her!”
“’Twas I who helped him; he worked over her until he brought her to. He was an Eagle Scout, too, the highest rank among the Scouts90.”
“Think of it!”
“All those little colored designs embroidered on his sleeve were his twenty-one merit badges.”
Silence for a few minutes while ’Becca’s right hand fondled the doll.
“Glory!” In a low and thrilling voice Olive broke the stillness of the ward where most of the children slept, calling the other girl by the pet name of her childhood. “Glory! the ladder has dipped once for all toward the Sugarloaf; no, I don’t mean that; I mean that the Sugarloaf and Camp Morning-Glory and camping out with the girls of the Morning-Glory Camp Fire are all on top for me—and for Sybil, too, if I can make her; the hotel is nowhere!”
“Do you really mean it, that you want to become a Camp Fire Girl at last?”
“I want to do something worth while!” Olive’s lip quivered; she spoke passionately91. “I want to do something with—with spice in it! I felt that, to-day, when I saw you working to bring ’Becca round—you and that boy.... I want to dance the Leaf Dance and, maybe, to inflict92 my rhymes on other girls without their laughing at me,” emotion dwindling93 down to laughter.
“But perhaps your father will wish you to go to that hotel, Sybil and you, with Cousin Anne.”
“Father, no! He approves of the Camp Fire movement; I’ve heard him say so. He thinks with Captain Andy”—laughingly—“that it’s a pretty good incubator for the growth of new wing-feathers—unusual power to do things.”
“Or power to do unusual things, eh?”
“Either will answer! I’m sure Cousin Anne would be delighted to get off on her own hook this summer, without any of us girls. And ’twill be lots better for Sybil than going to an hotel and lording it over half-a-dozen boys, whose parents are staying there, and who wait on her all the time—fight over her, maybe, as two of them did, last year—because they think she’s fairy-like and pretty.” There was a look of her beautiful mother in Olive’s eyes now.
“As for me, I’ve quite made up my mind; I’m not going to lose my hoot94 through not using it, like that poor old straw-eyed owl,” wound up the Camp Fire recruit. “I don’t care”—rising to a dramatic outburst—“if there should be a dozen tingling95 Penelopes and half-a-dozen witchetty nieces of Captain Andy’s, each with a pig for a pupil, in the camp, I’ll—what is it you say—I’ll ‘cleave to my Camp Fire Sisters whenever, wherever I find them!’”
Half laughing, half crying, she stretched her hand across the cot. Jessica grasped it. The pledge of sisterhood was made and ratified96 upon the heart of a dumb child.
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1
ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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4
crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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flattened
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| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
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frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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ripples
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| 逐渐扩散的感觉( ripple的名词复数 ) | |
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rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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raving
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| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
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vivaciously
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| adv.快活地；活泼地；愉快地 | |
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illustrated
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| adj. 有插图的，列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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13
unripe
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| adj.未成熟的；n.未成熟 | |
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wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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promenading
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| v.兜风( promenade的现在分词 ) | |
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agonized
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| v.使（极度）痛苦，折磨( agonize的过去式和过去分词 )；苦斗；苦苦思索；感到极度痛苦 | |
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promenade
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| n./v.散步 | |
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pluckily
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| adv.有勇气地，大胆地 | |
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wading
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| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的现在分词 ) | |
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burnished
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| adj.抛光的，光亮的v.擦亮（金属等），磨光( burnish的过去式和过去分词 )；被擦亮，磨光 | |
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waded
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| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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athletic
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| adj.擅长运动的，强健的；活跃的，体格健壮的 | |
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26
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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clogged
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| （使）阻碍( clog的过去式和过去分词 )； 淤滞 | |
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dire
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| adj.可怕的，悲惨的，阴惨的，极端的 | |
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gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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bracelet
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| n.手镯，臂镯 | |
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spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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cramp
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| n.痉挛；[pl.](腹)绞痛；vt.限制，束缚 | |
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apparatus
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| n.装置，器械；器具，设备 | |
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38
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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39
knightly
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| adj. 骑士般的 adv. 骑士般地 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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41
embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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42
jumble
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| vt.使混乱，混杂；n.混乱；杂乱的一堆 | |
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43
onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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44
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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45
dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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46
quench
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| vt.熄灭，扑灭；压制 | |
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47
cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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48
specks
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| n.眼镜；斑点，微粒，污点( speck的名词复数 ) | |
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49
covert
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| adj.隐藏的；暗地里的 | |
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50
hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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51
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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52
hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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53
yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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54
gasps
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| v.喘气( gasp的第三人称单数 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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55
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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56
prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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57
horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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58
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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59
timing
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| n.时间安排，时间选择 | |
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60
eyelid
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| n.眼睑，眼皮 | |
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rhythmically
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| adv.有节奏地 | |
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respiration
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| n.呼吸作用；一次呼吸；植物光合作用 | |
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swooping
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的现在分词 ) | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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arabesque
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| n.阿拉伯式花饰；adj.阿拉伯式图案的 | |
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proficiency
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| n.精通，熟练，精练 | |
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succor
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| n.援助，帮助；v.给予帮助 | |
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verdant
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| adj.翠绿的，青翠的，生疏的，不老练的 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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70
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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scout
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| n.童子军，侦察员；v.侦察，搜索 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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adoration
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| n.爱慕，崇拜 | |
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impulsive
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| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
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outlet
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| n.出口/路；销路；批发商店；通风口；发泄 | |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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ooze
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| n.软泥，渗出物；vi.渗出，泄漏；vt.慢慢渗出，流露 | |
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depict
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| vt.描画，描绘；描写，描述 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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automobile
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| n.汽车，机动车 | |
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anatomy
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| n.解剖学，解剖；功能，结构，组织 | |
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scouts
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| 侦察员[机，舰]( scout的名词复数 )； 童子军； 搜索； 童子军成员 | |
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passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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inflict
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| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
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dwindling
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| adj.逐渐减少的v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的现在分词 ) | |
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hoot
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| n.鸟叫声，汽车的喇叭声； v.使汽车鸣喇叭 | |
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tingling
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的现在分词 ) | |
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ratified
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| v.批准，签认（合约等）( ratify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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