In which Clarence tells his story and gets the Reverend Rector to take a hand against the Bright-eyed Goddess.

“Suppose,” suggested the College President, as Clarence with a sigh of satisfaction came to an end of his meal, “you tell us your story.”

“It is a long one.”

“Wait till I come back,” implored the Infirmarian. “I want to hear it. I’ve been infirmarian in boarding college a great many years, but I’ve never yet seen any sick boy quite so healthy and with such an appetite as Clarence.”

“Thank you for the compliment, Brother. I often feel like apologizing for that appetite of mine.”

“Clarence,” said the Rector as the Infirmarian went off with the empty dishes, “have you any relations, besides your father and mother, living?”

“Just stacks of them, sir.”

“Where are they?”

“There are some in England; a lot of them, on my mother’s side, in Ireland—and oh, yes, I’ve a cousin and his family in New York.”

“Do you know the address of any of them?”

“I really don’t. You know I’ve been at Clermont Academy, a boarding school in New York State, since I was eleven, and I’ve lost track of all of them pretty much.”

“What about your cousin in New York City?”

“I do not even know where he lives. You see, he just came to this country from Ireland a month ago. He brought his family along, and they were still looking for a house when I last saw them three weeks ago.”

“Anyhow, they’re in New York City?”

“I think that’s pretty certain.”

“Very good,” said the Rector, taking out a small memorandum book and making a note.

“Well, let’s have that story,” cried the big Infirmarian, as he re-entered. He was eager as a small boy waiting his turn for the pie to come down the table.

Clarence began with his departure from McGregor, the climb up and beyond Pictured Rocks, his long ride on the river, his encounter with the gypsies, his friendship for Ben, his long talks and walks with Dora, his troubles with Pete and his shrewish wife, his frequent swims in the river.

“And,” he continued, “when I made up my mind to get away somehow or other, I was hard as nails; I could swim for any length of time, it seemed to me, without losing my wind or my strength; and I could eat like a horse.”

“We all know that,” said the Infirmarian.

“And how did you manage to escape?”

“It came about just the way I wanted. Yesterday afternoon we pitched camp at a place right opposite a long island. I went in swimming and began to brag purposely to Ezra about what I could do. I let him know that I thought I could beat him. As a matter of fact, I really think I can. Ezra bit. He challenged me to race him to the island. That was just what I wanted. The old hag, Pete’s wife, came over and cursed me, just before Ben gave us the signal to go. But I didn’t mind that. Curses, like chickens, come home to roost, you know.

“Well, at Ben’s word we plunged into the water, and I kept under till I thought I’d burst. When I came up, I was some distance down stream; and all the way over I kept drifting down. Of course, it looked as if it were not done on purpose—at least I think it did. By the time Ezra was within a few yards of the island almost straight across from where he had started, I was away down near the end of the island, almost or quite half a mile away. Then I began to pretend I was trying to swim upstream and couldn’t do it. When within five yards or so of the very end of the island where there were lots of willows and bushes, I started to splashing wildly as though I had lost my head. I turned towards the shore, gave one last look, and shouted, ‘Help! help!’ I’ll never forget what I saw in that moment. In front of the tent, Pete’s wife was standing with her hands—clawlike old talons—stretched out, palms down, as though she were trying to force me under water; near the edge of the river, Dora, in her white dress, was kneeling, and I could guess she was praying for me.”

Clarence paused a moment.

“Do you know,” he said gravely, “I feel now as I felt all last night, as though her prayers kept with me like an army of little angels. Tennyson says, ‘More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of.’ I knew the line over a year ago. Now I know the meaning. Anyhow, after giving that yell for help, I let myself sink and then, under the water, I got to those willows which I forgot to tell you were partly under water. It seemed to me as I felt my way from trunk to trunk that I’d explode if I didn’t get air. I’ve stayed under water many a time; but I never stayed under so long before. When I did come to the surface, I came up cautiously, came face upward, so as to get just my eyes, my mouth, and, because I couldn’t help it, my nose out of water. It was all right. Between me and the gypsies was that clump of willows and I was in a little bay surrounded on three sides by trees and bushes. I lay on my back just long enough to get my breath, and kicked myself down till I came near the end of the inlet. Then I took a deep breath, and dived so as to get out beyond the island in the main current. The dive was a success. When I came up, I lay on my back with only my nose sticking out of the water and let the current carry me along until it grew dark.”

“What were the gypsies doing?” asked the Brother Infirmarian.

“I don’t know. I suppose they took it for granted I was drowned. You see, I wasn’t such a bad actor, and I did my part all right; and besides, they are very superstitious and believe that Pete’s wife has all kinds of power. She told them I was to drown, and that made it doubly certain to them. From what I know of them, I guess Ben came over and searched for my body half the night.”

“And what did you do when the dark came on?” asked the Rector.

“I reversed myself and began swimming. After a while I got awful chilly; so I went to the bank and went through all sorts of Delsarte movements to get warm. This took me from fifteen minutes to half an hour. Then I went in again and swam and floated till I felt I was freezing. I took to the shore again, and ran and jumped as long as I could, and that’s the way it went on the whole night. It was the longest night ever. Every minute got me hungrier and chillier. I didn’t notice the hunger so much; but it seems to me that I’d never, never be warm again. Oh, wasn’t I glad when the dawn came, and didn’t I pray for a hot sun. When the sun did rise, I saw that I was getting near a big town, and I looked about for some place to land. Somehow, I couldn’t quite make up my mind.”

“Why not?” asked the Rector.

“I didn’t like the way I was dressed. Bathing suits are all right for the water, but for company—I may be all sorts of an idiot, but I’m not as nervy as the average summer girl. No decent boy is.”

“Oh, Lord!” gasped the Rector.

“I beg your pardon, sir?”

“Go on, my boy.”

“Well, I got past the city which, I saw on a sign at a boat landing, was Prairie du Chien, and—no, not quite past. A little after swimming under the bridge, I saw a building—a great big building that looked like a college. It was just beyond the railroad tracks, and it had a beautiful grove of trees just below the building itself. Right on the shore was a lot of weeds that had been cut and been lying there long enough to dry. There was nobody in sight, and so I slipped ashore and covered myself up in the weeds, and tried to get warm. I was there a long time; and it was a long time before I began to get anyways warm. Oh, it was delicious that feeling of warmth coming back slowly but surely. Really, I’d have gone to sleep, only something else began to go wrong.”

“Did the jiggers get you?” asked the Brother.

“No; it wasn’t ants or jiggers or bugs of any kind. It was my little ‘tummy.’ The warmer I got, the hungrier I got. If I had a thousand dollars then, I’d have handed it over gladly for a hunk of bread. After a while, I forgot I had ever been cold, but I was famishing. So I threw off the weeds, put on my bathing suit, and started for that building. I was afraid of my life of being seen by women-folks, so I crawled and walked and crawled. It was slow work. Well, anyhow, I got to the fence leading into those grounds and was just climbing over when down from the building came running and dancing a whole raft of little girls!”

“You struck St. Mary’s Academy, a boarding school for girls,” said the Brother, sympathetically. The Rector’s face was buried in his handkerchief. He was not weeping.

“One little devil—Oh, excuse me—one little double-pigtailed, blue-ribboned thing in the lead saw me and let out a yell. That got me going, and I jumped off that fence and sprinted for the river at the rate of one hundred yards in 9-4/5 seconds—at least, that’s what I thought I was doing, and the screams of all those girls behind me helped me to keep up my clip to the end. I’m sure they thought I was a burglar.”

“Anyhow,” said the Rector consolingly, “they won’t know you again.”

“I should say not. After this I intend paying visits in regulation costume. Well, then, I got into the river, clean blown. I was too tired to swim; so I just lay on my back, and paddled now and then with my feet. The cold got me again in a few minutes; my teeth began to chatter. Oh, it was awful.............