PERILS OF THE FLOOD
"Dave! Dave!" yelled Ben, as he saw our hero disappear into the
swiftly-flowing river. "Look out, or you'll both be drowned!"
"What's the trouble?" yelled Jerry Blutt, as he turned back for the
first time since leaving the island.
"Buster slipped in, and Dave went after him," answered Ben. "Oh, what
shall we do?" he went on, despairingly.
"Here--we'll throw out the rope!" answered the camp-worker, and took
from his shoulder a rope he carried.
In the meantime Dave had come up and was striking out with might and
main for his chum. Our hero realized that Buster must be hurt,
otherwise he would swim to save himself.
"Must have struck on his head, when he went over," he thought, and he
was right, poor Buster had done just that and now lay half-unconscious
as the current swept him further and further from his friends.
It was too dark to see much, and Dave had all he could do to keep in
sight of the unfortunate one. But presently the stout youth's body
struck against a rock and was held there, and our hero came up and
seized the lad by the arm.
"Buster! Buster!" he called out. "What's wrong? Can't you swim?"
"Hel--help me!" gasped the fat youth. "I--I got a knock on the head.
I'm so--so dizzy I do--don't know what I--I'm do--doing!"
The current now tore Buster away from the rock, and he and Dave
floated along on the bosom of the river for a distance of fifty yards.
It was impossible to do much swimming in that madly-rushing element
and Dave wisely steered for shore. He continued to support his friend,
who seemed unable to do anything for himself.
At length, when our hero was all but exhausted, his feet struck a
sandbar. At once he stood up, finding himself in water that reached to
his waist. He caught up Buster and placed the weakened lad over his
shoulder. In a dim, uncertain way he saw the shore loom up in front of
him, and struck out in that direction.
It was a short but hard struggle. Twice Dave went down, once losing
his hold on his chum. But he got up each time and went after Buster in
a hurry. Then he made a final dash, came in contact with some bushes,
and hauled himself and his burden to temporary safety.
All was dark around the two boys, and the rain came down as pitilessly
as ever. But for this they did not, just then, care. They had been
close to death, and now they were safe, and that counted for
everything.
Poor Buster had received a severe bump on the forehead and had a
swelling there of considerable size. But the stunning effect was
passing, and he was able to sit up and peer around him.
"Oh, what a crack I got, when I fell over!" he murmured, and then he
added, gratefully: "It was a fine thing for you to jump in after me,
Dave!"
"Well, I couldn't stand there and see you drown, Buster," answered our
hero. "I had to do something."
"Where are the others?"
"Up the stream--unless they went overboard, too."
"Then I suppose we ought to walk that way."
"We will--after we get our breath and you feel strong enough."
"Maybe you can call to them?"
"I'll try."
Dave yelled at the top of his voice, not once but several times.
Presently an answering hail arose from a distance, and then Ben came
running up, followed by Jerry.
"Dave! Buster! Are you safe?"
"Yes," answered both.
"Oh, I am so glad! We were afraid you were both drowned! How did it
happen?"
The two told their story, and then the others told how they had thrown
out the rope and had seen Dave disappear in the darkness after
Buster.
"I would have jumped in, too, but I didn't see how I could do any
good," went on Ben. "Jerry said we had better come ashore and look for
you down here. So we did that. My! but it's a fearful flood, isn't
it!"
"Yes. I wish we knew where Phil was," and Dave heaved a deep sigh. Had
their chum lost his life in that rapidly-rising river?
"Ain't no ust to stay here--gitting wetter an' wetter," said the
camp-worker, after a pause. "Besides, if that flood gits wuss it is
bound to come up here. We better git further back--up the hill."
"Is there any shelter around here? I mean on high ground?" asked
Dave.
"Yes, I know of a cabin up on the hill," answered Buster. "I don't
know if I can find it in the rain and darkness, but I can try."
He walked along, through the trees, until he reached a footpath
running up from the shore. They followed the path for about a hundred
yards, and then came in sight of a long, low, rambling cabin, the home
in years gone by of some lumbermen. It was in a dilapidated state,
with doors and windows gone, but it would provide a roof over their
heads, and that was something.
Entering, the lantern was hung on a nail, and they looked around them.
There was a fireplace, with some dry sticks handy, and soon they had a
fire started, which added much to the comfort of the surroundings.
They hung up the majority of their wet garments and sat close to the
blaze, drying themselves.
"If I only knew where to look for Phil, I'd go after him," said Dave.
"But to look for him in the darkness is like looking for the
proverbial needle in the haystack."
"We'll have to go out first thing in the morning," returned Ben.
"Yes, as soon as we can see," added Buster.
The boys who had run away were anxious to learn what Dave had to say
about affairs at Oakdale, and in a low voice, while the camp-worker
was preparing hot coffee and something to eat, he related what had
happened since their departure.
"You made a big mistake to run away," he said, earnestly. "Just
because you did that, many folks feel sure you must be guilty. You
ought to go right back and face the music."
"I guess you are right, Dave," answered Ben, shamefacedly. "But when
Phil said 'run,' I didn't stop to think, but just got out."
"And that is what I did, too," added the stout youth. "But I don't
blame Phil any more than I blame myself," he added, hastily.
"Nor do I," said Ben. "We made a big mistake. We should have stood our
ground, like you and Roger did."
"Well, you come back with me, and we'll face this to a finish," went
on our hero. "But, of course, we've got to find Phil first."
Only the camp-worker slept well that night. The boys were restless,
and several times one or another got up, to go to the doorway and
listen, thinking he had heard a call from Phil. But the calls were
only imaginary, and morning dawned without a sign of the missing one.
It was still raining, but not so hard as before, and by eight o'clock
the clouds broke away and the sun commenced to shine. All had an early
breakfast, from the stores brought along, and then the party hurried
down to the river.
That the dam above Camptown Falls had broken was plainly evident on
all sides. During the night the river had risen seven or eight feet,
bearing on its bosom many trees and bushes, with here and there the
remains of camps that had been located on low ground. Moosetail Island
had been swept from end to end, only the higher spots escaping the
flood. The waters were now going down, the rush from the broken dam
having spent itself.
The boys gave scant heed to the destruction effected by the rain and
the broken dam. All their thoughts were centered on Phil. What had
become of their chum? Was he dead or alive?
"I wonder if it wouldn't be best to get over to the island and look
around?" suggested Dave. "Most likely he went there--thinking you
would be at the cabin."
"But how are we to get to the island?" asked Buster. He had no desire
to fall into the turbulent stream again.
"Oh, the water is going down rapidly, Buster. I think we can make it
by noon."
All walked up and down the river bank, looking in vain for some trace
of the shipowner's son. Once they met some people from another camp
and asked about Phil. But these folks shook their heads.
"Didn't see a soul," said one of the men.
Jerry Blutt had been looking the situation over carefully, and he said
he thought they could get to the island by going up the river a
distance.
"Then the current will help us along, and we won't have to fight so
hard," said the camp-worker. He did not like the idea of crossing the
water, but did not wish to desert the boys.
On the trip they carried the rope, with Jerry at the head and Dave at
the rear. All took tight hold, so that if one slipped the others might
pull him up.
"Now, take it easy," cautioned the camp man. "This water is runnin'
putty swift, even yet."
He had mapped out a course with his eye, and proceeded slowly and
cautiously. Once away from the shore, they felt the full force of the
onrushing waters and were all but swept from their feet. It was well
that they were a good distance above Moosetail Island, for to reach
this spot by going straight out in the stream would have been
impossible.
It was a long, hard, and dangerous trip, and all drew a deep breath of
relief when they finally set foot on the island. At times they had
been in water up to their waists and it had looked as if they must
surely be swept away. Once a tree branch, coming swiftly along, had
caught Dave and literally carried him off his feet for several yards.
They landed at one end of the island, at a point where the bushes were
still two feet under water. The evidences of the flood were on every
hand, and the water was muddy and filled with broken-away brushwood
and trees.
"I guess we had better strike out for the camp," said Dave. "Phil
would go there if he went anywhere."
As they advanced one or another gave a loud call. But no answer came
back, and this made them look gravely at each other. Was the perilous
trip to the island to prove a vain one?
In a quarter of an hour they came in sight of the camp. The cove had
been blotted out, and the water was eddying around the cabin to a
depth of several inches. Mud was everywhere, inside the place and out,
and this showed that the flood had swept the spot at a height of
several feet.
"We might have stayed here," was Buster's comment. "It didn't hurt the
big tree."
"But we didn't know how bad it was going to be," answered Ben. "It
might have washed away the whole island."
"Let us go up to the high ground and look for Phil," suggested Dave.
"Maybe he went to the highest spot he could find."
The others agreed, and leaving the camp-worker at the cabin, the boys,
led by Buster, tramped through the wet and mud to a little hill. Again
they set up their calls, but, as before, no answer came back.
"I don't believe he came here," said Ben, at last. "If he was here he
would surely hear us."
"Unless he was hurt and couldn't answer," returned Dave.
From the top of the little hill they could see both ends of Moosetail
Island and also both shores of the river. As they gazed about them,
Dave suddenly gave a shout.
"Look! look!" he cried, pointing to the shore which they had left but
a short while before. "There is somebody waving a handkerchief at
us!"
"It's Phil!" returned Ben.
"Are you sure?" questioned Buster. "I can see it is a man or a boy,
but that is all."
"It looks like Phil," said Dave. "Oh, I hope it is!"