CHAPTER II A Rescue

Madge worked grimly at the oars as she endeavored to reach the overturned canoe. What had become of Anne? With a fast beating heart, she watched the water for a glimpse of the girl.

She had nearly given up hope when she caught sight of a struggling form not far from the floating canoe. A hand emerged, only to sink again beneath the surface. Anne could not swim!

The realization drove Madge to even greater exertion. The next powerful sweep of her oars carried her near the struggling girl. She thrust out an oar, but Anne either failing to see it or lacking strength to grasp it, fluttered her hands weakly and went under again.

Without an instant’s hesitation, Madge kicked off her pumps and plunged over the side of the skiff. Three long crawl strokes carried her to the place where Anne had submerged. Bending sharply at the waist she shot down in a surface dive. Groping about under water, she searched frantically for the body and could not find it. She was forced to the top for air but she went bravely down again and this time her hand touched Anne’s hair. She grasped it firmly, lifting the girl to the surface.

Anne was only semi-conscious but as she gulped air it gave her strength to renew her struggles. Madge hooked her firmly under the jaw and did not relax her hold. The waves beat down mercilessly upon the girls and each time the avalanche of water poured over their heads. Anne fought like a wild thing. Madge, encumbered by heavy clothing, found the battle exhausting.

“Hold your breath when you see a wave coming,” she advised. “Don’t struggle or we’ll both drown.”

Anne relaxed slightly and Madge managed to shift her into position for a safe carry. Using a powerful scissors kick and a one arm pull, she towed her slowly toward the skiff which had been carried some distance away.

Madge was nearly exhausted when they finally reached the boat and it discouraged her to know that the most difficult part of the rescue lay ahead. They must climb aboard the skiff, and unless they balanced it perfectly it would upset. The only alternative was to cling to the side until help came.

Madge glanced hopefully toward shore but she could not even see the Brady lodge and the rain likewise hid the lookout from view. Even should the storm abate, it might be fifteen minutes or an hour before Uncle George or Old Bill started out to search. She doubted that they could hold out many minutes in the cold water.

“You must do exactly as I say,” she ordered Anne. “I’ll swim to the other side of the boat. When I give the word we must both climb in at the same time. If we don’t work together, the boat will upset and then we’ll be in a real pickle!”

“Oh, I can’t, I can’t,” Anne half sobbed.

“Yes, you can. Do exactly as I say and we’ll make it.”

Anne nodded that she understood what was expected but Madge wondered if she really had the strength to obey. She swam to the other side of the skiff and at her signal both girls slowly raised themselves up from the water. The boat wobbled dangerously but Anne appreciated the need for caution. Working deliberately, they kept the skiff upright until both were safely over the edge. Exhausted by the effort, Anne sank down in a little heap on the bottom, shivering from nervous excitement and cold. Madge resisted the temptation to drop down beside her and snatched up the oars.

“I’ll make for the island!” she cried, above the roar of the wind. “If we can reach the cove, the waves won’t be so high.”

The center of the storm appeared to have passed over, yet gigantic breakers continued to lash against the boat. The steadily falling rain made it difficult for Madge to see where she was going and she depended largely upon her instinct for direction.

“Let me help,” Anne presently offered, realizing that she was not doing her share.

“We’re almost there,” Madge returned without giving up the oars.

One glance at her companion assured her that Anne was in no condition to assist. She was a frail girl but rather pretty in spite of her bedraggled appearance. Her hair was dark and straight and her features were as regular as those of a statue. Madge judged her to be sixteen or seventeen but it was difficult to guess accurately for Anne’s sober expression undoubtedly made her look older than she actually was. Her face was drawn and strained and she appeared to be still suffering from the shock of her mishap.

A few minutes later they reached the sheltered side of Stewart Island and a flash of lightning disclosed the curving shore line. As the oars struck bottom, the girls scrambled out into the water which came only to their knees, dragging the skiff out upon shore where the waves could not reach it. They made a quick dash for the house.

In the semi-darkness it looked gloomy and depressing. It was a large, rambling affair, more like a hotel than a house, and not at all in keeping with the type of shack or cabin usually erected in the North. Branches of a tall birch tree brushed against the pointed roof and the wind whined most distressingly around the many corners of the building.

“I’d not enjoy coming here alone at night,” Madge thought.

Her companion opened the kitchen door and they stomped in out of the rain.

“There’s a fire in the library grate,” Anne chattered, leading the way to an adjoining room. “Thank goodness I built it before I left.”

They huddled before the glowing embers of the fireplace and Anne tossed on a fresh log which quickly blazed up.

“We can’t stand around in wet clothing,” she observed, looking appraisingly at Madge. “You’re my size. I’ll see what I can find for you.”

Waiting for her to return, Madge gazed curiously about the library which was lined to the ceiling with books. The fireplace gave the room a cheerful appearance but she could not fail to notice the threadbare rug, the scanty furniture.

“Strange,” she thought, “I always understood the Fairadays were well-to-do.”

Her reflection was cut short by Anne’s return. She had found a change of clothing for Madge who accepted it gratefully. After hanging up their garments to dry, the girls made coffee, sipping it luxuriously before the fire. As they chatted, Anne brought up the subject of the rescue and in halting phrases tried to thank Madge.

“Please don’t thank me,” the latter protested. “It was nothing. Only if I were you, I’d certainly learn to swim.”

“I should,” Anne acknowledged ruefully. “I’ve always wanted to but never had the chance. Until lately, Father took so much care.”

Madge nodded sympathetically and after explaining that she had only that day learned of Mr. Fairaday’s death, invited Anne to stay at the Brady lodge.

“It’s good of you to ask me,” the Fairaday girl murmured, “and truly, I would like to accept. Just now I’m afraid I can’t. You see, there’s a special reason why I must stay here—for a few days at least.”

She hesitated and did not explain. Madge looked troubled.

“I’ve written to an aunt in New York and as soon as things are settled I expect to live with her,” Anne went on hurriedly. “I do appreciate your kindness only I know I’ll be safe here. It’s lonely but I’m used to that. The one thing that worries me is what I shall live on after the estate is settled. Father left only this house and a few hundred dollars.”

Madge was startled by this frank disclosure. The shabby appearance of the interior of the house had warned her that the Fairadays were not as wealthy as rumor would have it, but it was difficult to believe that Anne faced poverty.

“Father was never practical about money matters. He built this expensive house and installed a laboratory on the second floor that would do credit to a scientific institution. He spent so much on experimentation too.”

“You must be proud of the name your father made for himself,” Madge said politely.

“Yes, I am, and he was a dear, too. But if only he hadn’t been so careless about details! Several times he made important discoveries, only to let others reap the commercial reward. Before his death he worked out some preparation which when applied to iron and steel prevented rust—several large companies were interested in it too. He promised me faithfully he would register the formula in the patent office.”

“He never did?”

“No, he kept putting it off. He always said the formula wasn’t perfected. He always assured me no one could steal it for he kept the experiments to himself and hid all the data where it would never be found.” Anne laughed shortly. “Well, he did a good job of it! I’ve searched this house high and low and can’t find a trace of it.”

“You’re certain the formula is valuable?”

“I’m sure of it.” Anne arose and moved to the desk, returning with a letter which she dropped into Madge’s lap. “Last week this came from the Alton Chemical Company—one of the firms Father negotiated with. You see the letter is signed by the president of the firm—G. H. Brownell—and he says he is coming here soon to see me about the formula. If only I had it! I’m sure he would pay me a good figure for it. What became of the thing?”

“Ask me something easy. You searched the laboratory I suppose?”

“A dozen times. I haven’t given up though. I know I’ll find it somewhere and I intend to stay here until I do.”

“I wish I could help,” Madge returned. “Aunt Maude says I have a talent for finding lost things. She always calls on me when anything is missing.”

“Then consider that I’m calling on you now. We might start turning the house upside down this minute!”

Madge’s eye had fallen upon the clock and she sprang to her feet with an exclamation of dismay.

“The search must wait until another day. Goodness! That clock must have skipped an hour or so! Aunt Maude will think I drowned in the lake. I must run. Mind if I wear your dress?”

“Of course not. It’s only an old rag.”

At the door, Madge hesitated.

“See here,” she said bluntly, “my aunt will be put out because you feel you can’t stay at the lodge. If anything should go wrong here—”

“Nothing will.”

“You can’t be certain, Anne. If you need help at any time or want to talk with me, fly a white flag from the boat landing. I’ll see it from the lodge if the day is clear and come as fast as I can.”

“All right,” Anne agreed, “I have an old white skirt I can use.”

She accompanied Madge to the beach, helping her launch the skiff. The rain had ceased falling and the sky was slowly clearing. Before saying goodbye, Madge promised Anne that she would have Old Bill search for the overturned canoe. Anne thanked her again for her kindness, urging her to return soon.

“Don’t forget,” she called, as her friend floated slowly away from the beach.

“I’ll be likely to forget!” Madge chuckled softly to herself. “Even if I didn’t like Anne, that missing formula would be sufficient bait! This has been an exciting day and unless I miss my guess the fun is only starting!”