 | V.
THE POND-RAKES COME IN PLAY. Coupon bonds, and other stories |  |
5. V.
THE POND-RAKES COME IN PLAY.
Old man Dracutt was sweeping snow from the dooryard
path when Uncle Jim stopped at the gate.
“Good mornin', Jonathan.”
“Good mornin', good mornin', James!” said Jonathan,
resting on his broom. “What 's the good word this mornin',
James?”
“No good word, Jonathan,” said Uncle Jim, in a constrained
and awkward manner, pulling the gate open and
coming in.
“Hey! what 's the matter? — folks sick?”
“My folks are all well; children are chipper, thank
Heaven!” Uncle Jim cleared his throat. “All well here?”
“Toler'ble, all that 's to home. Clinton 's off to-day.”
“Ah! Where 's Clint?”
“To work on the ice, I s'pose.”
“Sorry to hear that!” said Uncle Jim. “There 's been
an accident, did you know it?”
“On the ice?” cried old man Dracutt, with an anxious
start.
“So I hear. A good many men got in; and it 's feared
they ha'n't all got out again.” And Uncle Jim fixed his
tender blue eyes compassionately on old man Dracutt's
face.
“Not — Clinton?”
“Some of the wet men have come to my house for
clothing. I — I hope for the best, Jonathan. There 's no
knowing yet; but I thought you ought to be prepared.
Dear boy! he was in to see us last night, — so lively, as he
always is! No, no, Jonathan! I can't believe he is
drownded!” But Uncle Jim turned away with a look
that told a different story.
“I understand; you 've come to break it to me.” Jonathan
spoke calmly, though his voice was deep and husky,
and he leaned heavily on the broom. “Tell me the truth
James; is he drownded?”
“So the men say; but they — ” James set out to
explain, but Jonathan cut him short.
“Where?”
“Over by the white ice-houses.”
“Go in and tell her,” said Jonathan.
He himself did not go in (and we will not), but started
at once to walk to the scene of the disaster.
“Drownded! and my last word to him was a harsh
again, ever and anon, as he tramped with difficulty through
the snow, — “Drownded! and my last word was unkind!”
It was a mile to the spot, and the old man was more
infirm than he appeared. He soon came in sight of the
pond, however, and could see, far off, groups of men moving
excitedly about the broken field. Some were clearing
the water of the floating fragments of ice; others, in boats,
or standing on the unbroken edge, were thrusting down
poles, which he knew to be the long-handled, ponderous
pond-rakes, with which the bottom was in summer cleared
of weeds. Up and down, and to and fro, the poles were
pushed and dragged, and he was sure they were searching
for his boy.
With this terrible knowledge, and with this scene full in
view, the old man walked the last half-mile of his toilsome
tramp. He kept the bank of the pond until he was quite
near, then went down upon the ice. Crossing an unbroken
corner, he soon came to the men with the poles. They
continued at work, while others standing by made way
for him with ominous respect, — the respect which even
the rudest persons instinctively show to one in affliction.
There was a hush of voices as he appeared; then
old Farmer Corbett turned to him and said bluntly,
“It 's a bad business, Neighbor Dracutt. If the boys
had only heerd to me, 't would n't 'a' happened. I kep'
tellin' on 'em they worked too clust together; though I 'd
no idee myself but that the ice was thicker. Lucky for
me, I 'd jest drove off when it give way. Your boy wa'n't
alone. We had thirty men and eighteen hosses in to once.
But I flew round, pulled off the ropes from t'other hosses,
and throwed 'em to the fellers we could n't reach. Wooden
scrapers was lucky, — I vow, I believe the boys would have
hitched on to the iron ones, if 't had n't been for me;
broke the ice to the shore, and hild the hosses' heads above
water till they could tech bottom, an' in ten minutes we
had 'em all out.”
“All!” said the old man, with a sudden gleam of hope.
“All the animals, an' all the fellers but your grandson;
at least, he 's the only one missin', fur 's we know.
There wa'n't no need o' his bein' drownded at all; but
he 'd been to git some hammers to knock off the balls from
the hosses' hoofs with, an' 'pears the foolish feller tucked
'em in his pockets. They took him right to the bottom,
of course. An' what I 'm feared on now is, we sha' n't find
him at all. This here shore slants right down steep, to
about seventy or eighty feet deep, off here; an' with them
hammers in his pockets, with every struggle he made, he 'd
be liable, don't ye see? to work his way furder an' furder
down that pitch. That 's what I tell 'em; but they don't
seem inclined to believe a word I say. If they 'd believed
me when I telled 'em they ought to scatter more, an' not
crowd together so on sech young ice, 't would 'a' been
better for all on us, I vow.”
Mr. Dracutt watched the men raking the pond for some
time, without speaking, though his lips moved now and
then inaudibly. At last he asked for Kermer.
“That 's him with the pole, in the bow of that furder
boat there,” said Farmer Corbett. “He 's done his duty
sence he 's been here; but if he 'd been here afore, 't would
'a' saved all this. Nobody knowed how to go to work.
Nobody would hear to me, though I telled 'em —” and so
forth; the worthy farmer appearing by this time to have
convinced even himself that he had foreseen the danger,
and to find a dismal satisfaction in uttering prophecies
after the fact.
“Don't handle your rake that way!” said the old man,
spot beneath the ice. “Be more careful; be more tender!
You may hurt the boy!”
“He 's past hurtin' by this time, I guess likely,” said
Farmer Corbett. “The main thing now is to fish him out.”
“Wal, wal! be gentle! I would n't have ye mar his
featur's, nor any part of him, more 'n I 'd have ye tear my
own flesh. If he 's drownded, he 's drownded; but don't
mangle him. Whereabouts was he when he went down?”
“That nobody knows. It 's as much as a chap wants
to do, sech a time, to keep the run of himself, with an
acre of ice slumpin' down under him, and the water
spurtin' up about his legs; he can't keep many eyes on
to his neighbors, nor do much else but mind his own business
for a spell. Two or three o' them that got the duckin',
— they 've gone off now for dry shirts and breeches, —
they said they seen Clint a standin' on the ice not more 'n
a few seconds 'fore it split up, though, of course, they
can't tell jest where. A sudden casouse over neck an'
heels into ice-water makes a feller feel curis, I tell ye, for
about a minute, an' forgit things. I tried it once myself.”
“How long 'fore you missed him?” the old man asked.
“I vow, I don't know as we sh'd 'a' missed him till this
time,” said Farmer Corbett, getting down on his knees, and
feeling with his rake to the utmost depth it would fathom;
“but Kermer missed him. He asked for Clint Dracutt,
a'most the fust thing, 'fore ever we 'd got half the men
out. He knowed about the hammers in his pockets, ye
see. No use!” (Drawing up the rake.) “The bottom 's
gittin' down out o' my reach, and I go about two-an'-twenty
foot. We shall have to lash poles to the rake-handles;
an' then, if we don't find him, cut holes in the ice here
behind us, an' fish for him through them.”
“Don't git discouraged,” cried the old man, seeing that
efforts. “Let me take the rake.”
Farmer Corbett was quite willing to give it up; and the
old man found a temporary relief to his distress of mind
in the physical exertion of searching for the body. It was
hard work, however, and his strength was soon exhausted.
He was feebly hauling up the weed-entangled rake from
under the verge of the ice, when some one came and took
him by the arm. It was Phil Kermer, sober enough by
this time.
“This is no work for you, Mr. Dracutt. Come away;
let me send you home.”
“No, no! I can't go till he is found,” said the old man.
“I will see that everything is done that can be done,”
said Phil. “Come; my sleigh is here.”
Still the old man refused to go. And now the foreman
was called away from him by the arrival of the president
of the Ice Company, driving down in a cutter to the edge
of the pond, where two of the directors, who were already
on the spot, went to meet him.
| V.
THE POND-RAKES COME IN PLAY. Coupon bonds, and other stories | |