Boy Scouts of the Air on Lost Island | Page 6

you suppose," he began with a kind of despairing eagerness, "that he could have stayed in the boat?"
Aikens shook his head. "Not a chance in the world," he declared.
"But I thought----" began Jerry, to be interrupted by Mr. Aikens, who finally contented himself with merely repeating:
"Not a chance in the world." They were silent until at last Mr. Aikens, moved by some impulse of kindliness, for he could hardly help guessing how miserable the boy's thoughts must be, added:
"You thought what, lad?"
"The boat was full of water, of course, but when she popped up, it looked like there was something black in the bottom----"
"You saw the boat go over, didn't you! It must have turned over and over a dozen times down there in that whirlpool, even if he had stayed in till she lit. But he couldn't have. And even if----"
"Yes" urged Jerry, but without enthusiasm.
"If he was in the bottom of the boat he would have been drowned just the same, knocked senseless as he probably was by the terrific force of the fall and the tons of water plunging on top of him. Mind you, I don't think there was one chance in a million but that he was dashed out long before the boat hit bottom."
"But where's the--the body, then?" objected Jerry miserably.
"If grappling hooks and seines and dynamite couldn't answer that question, don't expect me to. Look here, lad, I know you feel all cut up over it, but think of how his poor father feels----"
"I am--that's what makes me feel as if it was partly my fault."
"Now--now--don't take it like that. Man and boy I've lived on this and other rivers a good many years over forty, and a drowning I've known for every one of those years. The water's a treacherous dame-- she smiles at you in the sunshine, and the little waves kiss each other and play around your boat, but the shadows lurk deep and they're waiting, waiting, I tell you. The old river takes her toll. It happened to be your friend, that's all. But it wasn't anybody's fault. Mr. Fulton would be the last one in the world to think so."
Jerry looked over at Mr. Fulton, who had finally ended his mute pacing up and down, and now sat, chin in hand, staring out across the water. A sudden impulse made the boy go over and stand for awhile, silent, beside the grief-stricken man. He wanted to say something, but the words would not come. So, after a little, he walked upstream to where Dave and Frank huddled against an overturned boat; the night was growing a bit chill.
"Moon's coming up," remarked Frank as Jerry settled down beside them. No one answered.
"It's awful to sit around and not move a finger to find him," shivered Dave at last. "Seems as if there ought to be something we could do."
"Do you know what I think?" replied Jerry, almost eagerly. "I think I was right about that boat. I've been trying to remember what we left in the boat that could have looked like--like what I saw when she came up. There wasn't a thing in the boat--not a thing. It was Tod I saw--I know it was!"
"But he never could have stayed in," objected Frank.
"That's what Mr. Aikens said--and everybody else. But tell me what else it could have been I saw. I saw _some_thing, that I know."
"We ought to have gone after the boat," admitted Dave, slowly. "We didn't do a bit of good here, that's sure."
"But we didn't know that at the time," Frank argued. "Everybody'd have blamed us if we'd gone on a wild goose chase down the river after an empty boat----"
"But nobody would have said a word if we'd found him in the bottom of a boat everybody else thought was empty. If the moon was only higher----"
"You don't catch me drilling off down Plum Bun at night, moon or no moon. There's a rattlesnake or copperhead for every hundred yards!" It was Frank who took up Jerry's thought. "Besides, it would be different if we hadn't waited so long. Tod--Tod's--he's dead now," voicing at last the feeling they had never before put into words.
There was a gruffness in Jerry's voice as he answered, a gruffness that tried hard to mask the trembling of his tones. "I know it, but-- but--I want to do something for Mr. Fulton. Won't you fellows go along with me? I guess I--I'll go."
"Down river?" asked both boys, but without eagerness.
"Till we find the boat."
"It's no use," said Frank. "Our folks'll cane us now when we get home. Going along, Dave--with me?"
"How far do you s'pose the boat's drifted by now, Jerry?" asked Dave instead of answering Frank.
"Can't tell. She's probably stuck on a sandbar or a snag, anywhere from