"Gee whiz! where is it, Toby?" cried Steve. "And none of us got a gun along, worse luck. Hey, show me the sea serpent, and p'raps my camera ain't so wet but what I might crack off a picture of the same; because nobody's ever going to believe you when you tell that yarn. Show me, Toby!"
Toby was only too willing to comply. He had always had a decided weakness for collecting all sorts of wild animals, and that might explain why he displayed such extraordinary excitement now.
"There, right over past the end of the r-r-raft, where it s-s-sticks up like a c-c-church spire!" he stuttered, pointing as he spoke. "Now watch everybody, when he pokes his old h-h-head up again. There, don't you s-s-see? And s-s-say, he seems to be s-s-swimmin' this way, don't he?"
Steve broke out into a yell.
"Why, bless your old timid soul, Toby, that isn't any snake at all, only one of those big wild-grape vines, like enough, that's ketched on to that floating tree trunk close by. She's all twisted and turned, and I reckon a fellow as crazy over wild animals and things, like you are, might be excused for thinkin' it was a regular sea serpent."
Bandy-legs too was showing amusement.
"Guess that's the way nearly all sea serpents are discovered," he remarked, trying to make it appear as though he had not been almost as excited as Toby, when the other burst out so suddenly with his announcement.
"Well, we haven't lost any snakes," commented Max, "and so we won't try to rescue that floating vine. We've had our turn at saving menageries, seems to me, enough for one season anyway."
What Max referred to was a series of remarkable adventures that came to the four chums at a time when a storm blew down the tents belonging to a circus about to exhibit in Carson, and liberating many of the animals connected with the menagerie; but full particulars of this thrilling experience have already been given in the volume preceding this, so that further explanation would seem to be unnecessary here.
Toby did not make any reply. He rubbed his eyes pretty hard, as though wondering how they could have deceived him so strangely. But then a fellow who was devoting so much of his thoughts to the mania for strange pets in the shape of wild animals might be expected to see things in a different light from his chums, who were not addicted to that weakness.
"For one," said Bandy-legs, "I'm real glad it wasn't a snake, because they always give me the creeps, you remember, I hate 'em so. Just think what a fine pickle we'd be in now if a monster anaconda or a big boa constrictor or python, broke loose from a show, should climb up on our bridge boat, and start to chasin' us all overboard. Things look bad enough as they are without our takin' on a bunch of new trouble. So, Toby, please don't glimpse anything else, and give us fits, will you?"
Steve seemed to be intently watching the shore, especially whenever the revolving timbers brought them in a line with the western bank, because that was more familiar to the boys than the other, since Carson lay on that side of the river toward the setting sun.
"I'm trying to make out where we are, Max," he explained, upon seeing that the other was observing him curiously.
Bandy-legs uttered a loud and significant grunt.
"Say, Steve," he remarked with a touch of satire in his voice, "I can tell you that much, if you're all mixed up. We're squattin' on the remains of our bloomin' bridge, which used to cross the river in front of Carson; yes-siree, and we seem to be takin' an unexpected voyage downstream, without a port in sight. 'Water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink,' as the ship-wrecked sailor used to sing; only wecouldmanage with this muddy stuff if we had to, because it ain't salty, you know."
"How far have we come, Max?" Steve continued, anxious to know, and pretending to pay no attention to Bandy-legs' humorous remarks.
"I'm trying to figure it out myself, Steve," admitted the other, who had also been studying the shore line, though everything was so changed during the high water that it was difficult to recognize land marks that had previously been quite familiar to him; "and the best I can make out is that we must be somewhere near Dixon's Point, where the river makes that first sharp curve."
"And, Max, that's about fifteen miles below Carson, isn't it?" Steve added, as he twisted his head the better to look down-stream again.
"Something like fifteen or sixteen, Steve."
"And if Asa French's place is twenty, we ought to strike in there right soon, hadn't we, Max?"
"Before ten minutes more, like as not," Max told him.
Steve drew in a long breath. He was undoubtedly wondering what the immediate future had in store for them, and whether some strange fortune might not bring him in close touch with Bessie. He doubtless had been picturing this girl friend of his in all sorts of thrilling situations, owing to the rapidly rising river, and always with some one that looked suspiciously like Steve Dowdy rushing valiantly to the relief of the helpless ones.
Steve had once tried to play the hero part, and stopped what he believed was a runaway horse, with Bessie in the vehicle, only to have her scornfully tell him to mind his own business after that, since he had spoiled her plans for proving that their old family nag still had considerable speed left in him.
Steve had never forgotten the scorn and sarcasm that marked the girl's face and voice when she said that to him. It had come back to his mind many times since that occasion; and he had kept aloof from all social events ever since, because he did not mean to be snubbed again. And even now, when he was picturing Bessie in real trouble, he kept telling himself that he meant to make sure she was surely in danger of drowning, or something like that, before he ventured to try and succor her. "Because," Steve told himself, "once bit, twice shy; and not if I know it will I ever give any girl the chance again to say I'm trying to show off."
All the same his eyes seldom roved in any other quarter now but down-stream, which was mute evidence that Steve was thinking about other peoples' troubles besides his own.
"We couldn't do anything to help move this old raft closer to shore, could we, Max?" Bandy-legs was suggesting.
"Hardly, though I'd like to first-rate," he was told; "but it's too cumbersome for us to move it, even if we pulled off some boards to use as paddles. So it looks as if we'd have to trust to luck to take us in the right quarter for making our escape."
"Well, we can be ready, and if the chance comes, make the plunge," Bandy-legs continued, "We're all so wringing wet as it is that if we had to jump in and swim a piece it wouldn't hurt any. Just remember that I'm ready if the rest of you are. I'm not caring any too much for this sort of a boat. It keeps on turning around too many times, like a tub in a tub race, and you never know what minute you're going to be dumped out, if it takes a notion to kick up its heels and dive."
"Don't look a g-g-gift horse in the m-m-mouth, Bandy-legs!" advised Toby.
Steve was manifesting more and more restlessness.
"Max, you've been down this far before, I reckon, even if most all our camping trips were to the north and west of Carson?" he asked, turning to the leader.
"Yes, several times, to tell you the truth," admitted Max; "but with the flood on, things look so different ashore that it's pretty hard to tell where you are. Why do you ask me that, Steve?"
"Do you remember whether there's a bend about a mile or so above the French farm house?" continued Steve.
After reflecting for several seconds Max gave his answer.
"Yes, you're right, there is; and I should say it must lie about a mile or so this side of the place."
"I was trying to figure it all out," Steve told him, "and it's this way it looks like to me. The current will sweep us across the river when we swing around that same bend, won't it?"
"Pretty far, for a fact, Steve, because it's apt to run the same way even if the river is far out of its regular channel now."
"Well, don't you see that's going to bring us pretty close to where the French house used to lie?" Steve remarked, inquiringly.
"Yes, it might, just as you say," Max replied; "but why do you speak of it in that way—used to lie?"
"Because," said Steve, moodily, "I'm scared to think what might have happened to that same house by now, and wondering if it's been swept clean away; though it was a strongly built place, and ought to stand a heap of pounding before it went down."
"But even if it isn't in sight, Steve, that doesn't mean the girls have been carried away on the flood, or else drowned. Of course Asa French would be warned long enough ahead to hitch up his horses, and pull-out for higher ground with everybody in his family. They're all right, the chances are ten to one that way."
Max said this for a purpose. He saw that Steve was feeling dreadfully about it, and knew the discovery would be doubly hard should they come upon the place where the French farm house had stood, to find it missing; and so he wanted to prepare the other chum against a shock.
"It's kind of you to say that, Max," Steve faltered, swallowing a lump that seemed to be choking him; "and I'm going to try and believe what you tell me. We ought to know the worst soon, now, because we're just above that bend, and already I can see how the current sets in as swift as anything toward the other shore."
All of them fell silent after that. They were watching the way the floating timbers of the lost bridge were being steadily swept toward the west shore, or rather where that bank had once been, because a great sea of water now covered the fertile farmland for a distance of a mile or so, to where the hills began.
Shack Beggs had recovered his usual ability to look after himself, and while he did not say anything, there was a look on his face that set Max to thinking, as he thrust the strap into the hand of his rescuer, as though he would have no further need of it, and disliked appearing weaker than the rest in that he had to be fastened to the railing.
Shack had just passed through a thrilling experience that was fated to make a decided impression on his mind. He had hated these boys for years, and done all he could to make life miserable for them; it remained to be seen whether there would be any material change in his habits after this, or if he would forget his obligations to Max Hastings, and go right along as before.
Max would have pondered this matter, for it must have presented exceedingly interesting features to a fellow like him; but there was really no time for considering such things now. They would have all they could do to find a way to gain the shore, and cheat the flood of its prey. Max could not forget that some twenty miles below where they were now the river plunged over a high dam; and even in time of flood this might prove to be their Waterloo, if they were prevented from getting on land before the broken bridge timbers reached that obstruction.
"Now, look, everybody, because we're turning the bend!" Steve called out, in his great excitement hardly knowing what he was saying.
Eagerly they strained their eyes. The strange craft swung around the bend, and continued to keep edging toward the west side of the river. A broad expanse of turgid water met their eyes, broken here and there with a few objects such as treetops.
Once there had been numerous barns and out-buildings connected with the French farm, but everything had apparently been swept clean away saving the house itself, and that still stood, although the flood was even then three quarters of the way up to the gutters of the roof, and must be exerting a tremendous pressure that could not much longer be baffled.
"Oh! it's still standing, Max!" shouted Steve, hoarsely; "who'd ever think it could have held out so long? I tell you that's a bully old house, and built like a regular Gibraltar. But, Max, don't you glimpse something up there clinging to the roof? Somehow I don't seem able to see as clear as I might; I don't know what's the matter with me."
But Max knew that Steve was blinking as fast as he could, to dry the tears that had come unbidden into his eyes under the excess of his emotions.
"I honestly believe it's the girls!" he exclaimed, startled himself at making such a thrilling discovery.
Steve gave a cry of dismay.
"Whatever can they be doing up there; and where's Bessie's Uncle Asa, that he's left them all alone in the storm? Oh! Max, we've just got to work over to the house and help them. Do you think we're heading that way fast enough? Ain't there any way we could help the old raft to hurry up, and strike the house so we could climb up there? Well, if the worst comes I'm meaning to swim for it, current or no current."
"Wait and see!" cautioned Max; "I'm still thinking we'll swing far enough around to strike against the upper side of the house. I only hope the blow doesn't finish things, and topple the submerged building over."
This gave Steve something new to worry over. He started to shouting, and waving his hat vigorously, and received answering signals from those who were perched on the sloping roof of the farmhouse.
Doubtless the ones in peril may have been praying for rescuers to heave in sight, but certainly it could never have entered into their heads to conjure up such a strange way for assistance to come to them, in the shape of a raft composed of the timbers of the wrecked Carson bridge.
But so great had been their terror, when surrounded by those wild and rising waters, that no doubt they gladly welcomed the possibility of help in any shape. Besides, the coming of those four husky and resourceful lads was a thing not to be despised. Though they may not have owned a motorboat, or even a skiff, they had sturdy arms and active brains, and would surely find some way to serve those who just then seemed to be in great need of assistance.
"Hi! here's more trouble!" cried Bandy-legs, while they were approaching the inundated farmhouse, borne on the sweeping current of the flood.
"What's the matter now?" called Steve, so anxious about the safety of those who clung to the sloping roof of the doomed building that he would not even turn his head all the way around, but shot the words back over his shoulder.
"Why, the blooming old wreck's going all to pieces, so that we'll each have to pick out a timber, and straddle mighty soon, if it keeps on this way!" Bandy-legs informed him.
This caused Max to take a little survey in order to satisfy himself that what the other said was true. What he discovered did not bring much assurance of comfort. Just as the sharp-eyed chum had declared, the remnant of the broken bridge was being by degrees torn apart by the violence of its fall and the subsequent action of conflicting currents of water.
It materially changed his plans, formed on the spur of the moment, when they had discovered the victims of the flood on the roof of the farmhouse. Instead of taking them off, as he had at first intended, it now began to look as though he and his comrades would be compelled to seek refuge alongside the girls.
This was not a pleasant thought, for Max could see that the building was very near the collapsing point as it was, and might topple over at any minute.
Max was, however, a boy who would accept what fortune offered, and do the best he could with it. Once on the roof, they could turn their attention to some other method of escape; at any rate they had no choice in the matter.
"We've got to climb up where they are, that's plain," he observed; "and if this stuff strikes the end of the house we'll be lucky enough."
"Then do we have to let it go, and be marooned up there?" asked Bandy-legs, in a forlorn tone.
"Looks that way," Steve went on to say, and somehow he did not seem to share the gloom that had gripped Bandy-legs, possibly because it began to look as though the glorious chance had come at last to show the girls he could do his duty without any boasting, and never meant to pose as a great hero.
"But why can't we hold on to some of these timbers, and make a jolly old raft?" Bandy-legs continued eagerly.
"Hurrah! that's the t-t-ticket!" Toby was heard to remark; "I never yet read about a R-r-robinson C-c-crusoe but what he made him a r-r-raft!"
"It might be a good idea, boys," admitted Max, "but I'm afraid you'll find it more than you can manage. Then besides, even if you did get some of the timbers to stick there, how could you fasten them together so as to make that raft? Show me your ropes and I'll join in with you mighty quick. But it isn't going to be the easiest thing going to climb up that wobbly roof; and we'll all be glad to find ourselves perching up on that ridge-pole with the girls, I think."
That dampened the enthusiasm and ardor of Bandy-legs considerably. Like the rest of them he realized that what Max said was about true, and that they could not expect to pay much attention to the parting timbers, once they reached the house. It would be all they could do to get up on the roof.
"Are we going to hit up against it, Max?" asked Steve, struggling between hope and fear, as they rapidly bore down toward the partly submerged farm building.
"Yes, there's no doubt about that," came the quick reply; "and come to think of it, we can get up where they are better by working our way around to that lower end to the right. Every fellow look out for himself when the time comes."
"Give us the word, Max?" Steve asked.
"All right, when you hear me shout 'now,' make your jump, and be sure you've picked out the right place beforehand, or you may drop back again."
Max could say no more, because they were so close to the little island in the midst of the raging flood that he had to conserve his breath in order to make a successful leap himself.
On the roof crouched the two girls, Bessie French and Mazie Dunkirk, together with a little lame cousin of the former, a girl of about eight. All of them were greatly interested in the coming of the boys, and stared eagerly at the remarkable craft that was bearing them on the surface of the flood. Perhaps they may have already jumped to the conclusion that the whole town of Carson had been inundated and swept away, and that these five lads might be the sole remaining survivors. That thought would in part account for their white faces; though of course their own perilous situation was enough to give them pale cheeks.
Max was on the alert. Just as the timbers came alongside the lower edge of the roof he shot out that one energetic word:
"Now!"
Immediately every fellow was in motion, and as they had selected their landing places beforehand, they fortunately did not interfere with each other's movements. Such a remarkable scrambling as followed; if you have ever watched a cat that has made too risky a jump, barely get her claws fastened on a limb, and then strain to clamber up, you can imagine something of the efforts of Toby and Bandy-legs in particular, as they did not seem to be quite as fortunate as the others.
But none of them dropped back into the river, and that was worth noticing. The girls continued to utter various exclamations of alarm and excitement as they watched their supposed-to-be rescuers trying to join them on the roof. Bessie even clapped her hands when Bandy-legs after a series of contortions that would have done credit to a professional athlete, managed to crawl over the edge, assisted by a hand given him, not from Max, nor yet Steve, but the despised Shack Beggs, who seemed to have had no difficulty whatever in making the landing, for he was a muscular fellow, and as wiry as a cat.
So they climbed up the slope of the submerged farm house, and joined those who were already perched along the ridgepole, like so many birds awaiting the time for flight.
Bandy-legs watched the timbers bumping against the side of the house until they parted company, and floated swiftly away in smaller sections. He felt like waving a sad farewell after the strange craft that had borne them all the way down the valley; never would he forget how it looked, passing away in pieces, as though its mission had been completed after allowing them to reach the farm-house.
There had been three refugees of the flood on the roof before; now their number had increased to eight. But whether the coming of the boys added anything to the hopefulness of the situation remained to be proved.
At least it seemed to have cheered up both girls considerably. Mazie welcomed the coming of Max when he climbed to a place beside her, with a look that was intended to be sunny, but bordered on the pitiful. Truth to tell the poor girl had just passed through the most terrible experience of her young life, having had responsibility crowded upon her in the absence of older heads.
"Oh! I amsoglad you have come to help us, Max!" she told him, after they had shaken hands like good friends, which they always had been.
Max tried to laugh at that; he thought there was altogether too much gloom in the gathering, and it would be better for all hands to discover some sort of rift in the clouds.
"A queer old way of coming to help you, I should say, Mazie," he told her. "What you saw floating off after it carried us here was all that is left of the Carson bridge, which was carried away by the flood an hour or so ago."
"Oh! were there many people on it when it fell?" asked Bessie French, her eyes filled with suspense; she had pretended not to pay any attention to Steve, who had deliberately found a place beside her, and was sitting there as though he had a perfect right, and that nothing disagreeable had ever come up between them; but in spite of her seeming indifference she was watching him out of the tail of her eye all the same, just as a girl will.
"I'm glad to say that we were the only ones who went down with the bridge," Max hastened to tell her, knowing that she had loved ones in Carson, about whose safety she must naturally feel anxious.
"And all of you managed to cling to the timbers of the bridge?" questioned Mazie, looking with open admiration, first at Max, and then those with him, until a puzzled frown came on her pretty face, for she had finally noticed Shack Beggs, and could not understand how a boy of his bad reputation chanced to be in the company of Max and his chums.
"Yes, it wasn't so hard, after we got settled in the water," Max explained. "We had the railing to help us out. And a little later we managed to help Shack in out of the wet, for he was on the bridge at the same time, being thrown into the water when it collapsed."
"What a strange thing that you should be carried right down to where we were in such dreadful need of help; and on such a remarkable boat, too," Mazie went on to say, with a tinge of color in her cheeks now, which spoke volumes for the confidence she felt in the ability of this particular boy to discover some means for bringing about their eventual rescue.
"Well, it does seem so," Max replied; "and the funny thing about it was that Steve here, just a short time before the bridge fell, was saying he would give anything he had in the wide world for the loan of a motorboat, so he could run down here and see if you girls needed help."
That was cleverly meant for Bessie's ears; trust Max to put in a good word for his chum, because he knew how matters stood, and that Bessie was treating poor Steve rather shabbily. The girl flushed, and then slowly turning her face until her eyes, now dim with unshed tears, met the eager ones of the boy at her side, she leaned her head forward and said in a low voice:
"I'm going to ask you to forget all that's happened between us, Steve; and let's start over being friends. I'll never laugh at you again when you're honestly trying to do something for me. I was a little fool that time; but it'll never happen again, Steve. You'll forgive me, won't you?"
Of course, when Steve felt that little hand in his, he laughed good-naturedly, and was heard to say in return:
"Never bother myself thinking about it again, Bessie; give you my word on it. When I got home that time, and saw myself in a glass, I made up my mind that I looked like a scarecrow, and that any girl would be ashamed to have such a tramp stop her horse, whether he was running away or not. And we're all mighty glad we were on the old bridge when she took that drop, because it's been kind enough to carry us to you girls down here."
All this may have been very interesting, but Max knew they had no business to be wasting time in talking when confronted by a renewal of perils. The farm-house had stood out against the pressure of the flood in a way that was wonderful; but it must have a limit to its endurance, which he did not doubt had been nearly reached.
What would happen to them if it should suddenly collapse was not a pleasant subject for thought; and yet there could be no dodging the responsibility.
At the same time he was curious to know how it happened that the two girls and the little crippled cousin of Bessie came to be there alone; when it might have been expected that Asa French, or his farm hand, would be along, capable of rendering more or less assistance.
"How do you come to be here alone, you girls?" he hastened to ask of Mazie.
"It was just through a succession of accidents," the girl replied. "You see, Mr. French and his wife received a message from Alderson yesterday calling them over in great haste to visit an old aunt who was sinking, and from whom they expected to inherit quite a large sum of money. They disliked leaving us here, but we insisted on it; and besides the faithful old man who had been with them for just ages, Peter Rankin, promised to guard us well. They were to come back this morning, but I suppose the floods kept them from setting out, as the roads must all be under water between here and Alderson."
"And you've had a night of terror, with the water creeping up all the while," observed Max; "but what became of Peter Rankin; I hope he wasn't drowned?"
"We don't know," replied Mazie, with a tremor in her voice. "Three hours ago he left us, saying that the only hope was for him to try and swim to the shore, so as to get a boat of some kind, and come to our rescue before the house was carried away. We saw the brave old man disappear far down the river, and we've been hoping and praying ever since that at least he managed to get ashore. Then we discovered all that timber coming around the bend above, with people aboard, and none of us could even guess what it meant."
"Well," said Max, "we're here, all right, and the next thing to do is to find some way of getting to the bank below."
"Then you're afraid the house will go before long?" Mazie asked him; "and that's what I've been thinking would happen every time that queer tremble seemed to pass through it. We shrieked right out the first time, but I suppose we've become partly used to it by now. But, Max, what can we do?"
"I suppose there's nothing inside that could be used in place of a boat?" he asked, thoughtfully.
"Nothing but the furniture that is floating around the rooms; though some of that has been washed out, and disappeared," Mazie told him.
"Then we'll have to look around and see what can be done to make a raft. There are five of us boys, all stout enough to do our share of the work. We might manage to get some doors off their hinges, and fasten them together some way or other, if Bessie could only tell us where a clothes line was to be found."
Max tried to speak quietly, as though there was no need of being alarmed; but after experiencing one of those tremors Mazie mentioned, he realized that the foundations of the farm-house were being rapidly undermined by the action of the swift running water, so that it was in danger of being carried away at any minute.
No one could say just what would happen when this catastrophe came to pass; the house might simply float down-stream, partly submerged; or it was liable to "turn turtle," and become a mere wreck, falling to pieces under the attacks of the waters.
And if they were still clinging to that sloping roof when this occurred they would find themselves cast into the flood, half a mile away from shore, and at the mercy of the elements.
Yes, there was sore need of doing something, by means of which they might better their condition; and Max Hastings was not the one to waste precious minutes dallying when action was the only thing that could save them.
Upon making further inquiries Max learned that there was a trap in the roof, through which the girls had crept, with many fears and misgivings, when the encroaching water within warned them that it was no longer safe to stay there.
Looking through this he could see that the place was fully inundated. Chairs and table were floating, and even the ladder which the girls had used was partly washed out of a window.
"Nothing much doing down there for us," Max informed Bandy-legs, who had crept over to the hole in the roof along with him, in order to satisfy his curiosity.
He had heard Max ask questions of the girls, and was deeply interested in learning what the next step might chance to be. Bandy-legs was still secretly mourning the fact that they had been compelled to let all that wreckage of the bridge get away from them. It had served them so splendidly up to that time, and still thinking of the Crusoe affair, he could not help believing that it had been a big mistake not to have at least made some effort to hold on to what they could.
"And to think," said Bandy-legs, sadly, "I've got the best sort of a life preserver at home you ever saw; but what good is it to me now?"
"But you can swim, all right," remarked Max.
"Oh! I wasn't thinking about myself that time, but what a fine thing it'd be to strap it around one of the girls right now. I say, Max, whatever are we agoin' to do with the three, if the old coop does take a notion to cut loose?"
"Not so loud, Bandy-legs," warned Max, with a little hiss, and a crooked finger. "We don't want them to know how tough things really are. If the worst does come we'll have to do what we can to keep them afloat; but I'm still hoping we may get some doors out that would be better than nothing, to hold on to in the water."
"I heard Bessie tell you that there was a clothesline hanging to a hook inside there, before the water came, and that it might be there yet if not washed away," Bandy-legs went on to remark.
"Yes, it wasn't very encouraging," Max informed him; "but I'm going inside and see if I can find it."
"You'll want help with the doors, too, of course, Max?"
"And I know where to look for it when you're around, Bandy-legs, because you're one of the most accommodating fellows on earth," the other told him.
"I'm about as wet as can be, so it doesn't matter a whiff what happens to me from now on," remarked the other boy; "but if we have to do more or less swimmin' while we're in there, Max, hadn't we better take our shoes off? I never could do good work with the same on."
"That's what I'm meaning to do, Bandy-legs; and there's no need of our waiting around any longer, so here goes."
Saying which Max proceeded to remove his wet shoes and socks, rolling his trouser legs up half way to his knees.
"What's all this mean?" asked Steve, crawling over to where the other two had gone; "looks like you had a scheme in mind."
He was quickly told what Max purposed doing.
"It doesn't seem like it'd amount to a great deal," he suggested.
"Huh! can you knock your coco and think up anything better, then; we'd sure be delighted to hear it," Bandy-legs told him; but Steve was not very fertile when it came to planning things, and he shook his head sadly.
"Wish I could, that's right," he said; "I'd give a heap right now to be able to snap my fingers, and have a nice little, power-boat happen along, so I could invite everybody to take a cruise with me. But there's no such good luck, And, Max, when you duck inside here, count on me to be along with you to do whatever I can."
"I knew you'd say that, Steve," observed the other, as though pleased to hear such a hearty response to his mute appeal.
Then came the other two, wondering what the plan of campaign might be; for even Shack Beggs, finding himself so strangely thrown in with these boys whom in the past he had hated and scorned; was already as deeply interested in the outcome as any of the chums might be; and Bandy-legs no longer frowned at his proximity, for he could not forget how it was Shack's strong hand that had helped him make a landing on the sloping roof just a short time before.
They dropped inside the house, and immediately found themselves up to their necks in water. Max took his bearings, and was pleased to discover that the coil of clothes line still hung from the hook, the water not having disengaged it as yet. Somehow the small success of finding this seemed to give him renewed courage.
"Things are beginning to come our way, fellows!" he called out, as he held the coil up above his head triumphantly.
"Hurray!" gurgled Toby, for it happened that just then he made a slip, and had a mouthful of muddy water come aboard, almost choking him.
"And here's this door swung loose," called out Steve, who had been working for several minutes, with the aid of Shack, to get the article in question off its hinges.
"Wait till I tie one end of the line to it," Max told them, "and then we can push it out and let it float behind the house. There isn't so much strength to the current there, on account of the eddies."
This was speedily done, and the floating door anchored, thanks to the friendly offices of the clothes line.
"That might do to hold up one of the girls," remarked Bandy-legs.
"It will," put in Steve, quickly; "and pretty fairly at that, because Bessie isn't so very heavy, you know."
Well, no one blamed Steve for pre-empting the first raft for the use of Bessie, because he had been chiefly instrumental in securing it.
"We ought to have two more, anyway," suggested Bandy-legs.
"And we'll get 'em, never fear," Steve assured him; "because there's just that many in sight. Here, Shack, give me another lift, will you? There isn't a fellow along got the strength in his arms you have, and that's the truth."
Shack Beggs looked pleased. It must have been a novel sensation for him to hear his praises sung by one of the chums of Max Hastings. They had called down anything but blessings on his head for many moons, yes, years, on account of the way he had annoyed them.
It was no easy task removing those doors, what with having to wade around in water almost up to their necks, so that at times they were even swimming. But it was no time to be squeamish, and every one of the boys meant business; so that in the end they had three doors anchored back of the shaky building.
They looked only a poor apology for boats, and no wonder the girls shuddered at the very idea of finding themselves afloat on the raging flood, with only a bobbing door to buoy them up.
Max was plainly worried. He admired the spirit which both Bessie and Mazie displayed when they declared that they would feel quite safe, if only the boys kept swimming alongside, to direct the floats toward the shore; at the same time he realized what tremendous difficulty they would have to keep the doors from "turning turtle," for there were many cunning eddies in the flood, that would strive to baffle their best efforts.
Besides, the girls would quickly find themselves wet through, and altogether the prospect was a pitiable one. Again and again did Max try to conceive of a better plan. He even went prowling around down below again, hoping to make some little discovery that would turn out to be of benefit to the three girls; but when he once more rejoined the others on the roof his face failed to announce any success.
Still Max did not allow himself to show signs of anything bordering on despair. In the first place the boy was not built that way, and had always shown a decided disposition to hold out to the very last gasp, as every fellow should, no matter how fortune frowns down on him. Then again Max understood that his face and his manner were bound to be considered a barometer by the others; who would be sure to gauge the prospects for a safe landing by what they saw reflected in his demeanor.
For this reason, if no other, Max forced himself to smile once in a while, and to assume a confident manner that he was far from feeling.
The question now seemed to be in connection with their leaving their perch. Of course they were better off on the roof than could possibly be the case once it had to be abandoned; but there was also the possibility of a sudden collapse on the part of the farm-house to be taken into consideration.
Max would not like to have this happen while the girls were still crouching on the shingled roof; because there could be no telling what would happen, once the building began to roll onward with the flood. All of them might be pitched headlong into the water, and it would be a difficult thing for them to save Mazie and the other two girls. Besides, the anchored doors might be lost, and though only makeshifts for boats, these were bound to be much better than nothing to help keep the helpless ones afloat.
The water must be rising still; at least it seemed to be coming against the exposed side of the partly submerged building with greater energy than before, Max was certain. The waves would strike the wall, and leap upward as though eager to engulf those who were just beyond their reach; so it seemed to the frightened girls at the time; though their terror would undoubtedly have been much greater but for the presence, and the inspiring words uttered by the boys.
There seemed nothing else to be done but embark, dangerous though that undertaking must prove. Max hated to announce this dictum to the girls, for he could easily understand what a fresh source of alarm it must cause to sweep over them. They had already gone through so much, calculated to inspire terror in their hearts, that any addition looked like rank cruelty; and yet what other solution could there be to the problem?
Just then Max and his chums would have gladly given every cent they had in the bank—and it was quite a goodly sum, for they had received rewards on account of certain services performed, as well as sold the pearls found in the fresh water mussels for a fine price—if they could only have been able to secure any kind of a boat capable of transporting those helpless ones safely to land. At another time they would have probably been more particular, and demanded a high-powered motor launch; or at the least one of those Cailie Outboard Motors to clamp on the stern of a rowboat; but right now it was a case of "my kingdom, not for a horse, but any sort of boat capable of floating."
Max heaved a sigh. He felt that he might as well wish to be given wings with which to fly ashore, as a boat. What few there were along the Evergreen River under normal conditions must either have been swamped in the sudden rising of the waters, or else be kept busy succoring imperiled people who had been caught in their homes by the flood, and threatened with drowning.
Just then the sun peeped out from a rift in the clouds. Strange what a remarkable difference even a fugitive glimpse of the sun may have on people, after the king of the day has refused to shine for forty-eight hours, while the rains persist in descending.
Like magic everybody seemed to become more cheerful. Things lost some of their gloomy aspect; even the rushing water looked far less bleak and threatening when those slanting shafts of sunlight glinted across the moving flood.
"Now, I take it that's a good sign!" said Steve, who persisted in remaining as near to Bessie as he could, in all reason, considering that he was dripping wet, and certainly could not look very presentable; but fortunately Bessie had come to her senses now, and to her mind Steve never appeared to greater advantage, because she knew he was doing all this on account of his friendship for her.
Really Steve did not know at what minute the calamity might swoop down upon them, and he wanted to be handy so that he could look after Bessie. Max would take care that Mazie Dunkirk did not suffer; and the other two chums had been privately told to attend to the lame child, so that all were provided for.
"And I do believe there's going to be a rainbow over in the west!" exclaimed Bessie, showing considerable interest, which seemed a pretty good sign that hope was not lying altogether dead within her girlish heart.
"I'm glad of that," said Max; "not because it will help us any, but if the rain that was promised passes over, there'll be a chance of the flood going down sooner. In fact, I don't believe it's going to get much higher than it is now."
"You never can tell," Bandy-legs remarked, showing a strange lack of proper caution, though Max tried to catch his eye, and would have given his foot a vigorous kick had he only been closer; "it all depends on whether they got the rain up in the hills where most of the water that flows down our old river comes from."
"Well, let's hope they didn't get any, then," said Max, quickly, as he saw a slight look of new fear creeping across the faces of the listening girls; "and on the whole I think we've got a heap to be thankful for. As long as we're here we'll see to it that the girls are taken care of; and if we do have to go ashore, why, we can make a regular picnic out of it; and you fellows will have a chance to show how much you know about camping in the woods without making any preparations beforehand."
"I'd just like to do that same!" exclaimed Steve, bravely; "nothing would please me better than to make a camp-fire, build a bark shelter for the girls, forage through the surrounding country for something to cook, and prove to everybody's satisfaction that we knew our business as amateur woodsmen. Don't you say the same, Bandy-legs and Toby?"
"I sure do," replied the former, with considerable fervor, as the pleasant times spent in former camps seemed to flash before his mind; "but what ails Toby here, fellers; he's going to have a fit if he don't get out what's sticking in his throat! Look at him gasping for breath, would you? What's the matter, Toby; seen another sea serpent have you; or is it a hippopotamus this time; perhaps a twenty foot alligator. Here, give one of your whistles, and get a grip on yourself, Toby!"
And the stuttering boy, brought to his senses by the admonition of his chum, did actually pucker up his lips, emit a sharp little whistle, and then working the muscles of his face as though trying to make a grimace, managed to utter just one word, which however thrilled the balance of the shivering group through and through, for that word was the magical one:
"Boat!"