Trouble on Rabb Island
The rapidity with which the creek waters had flooded the low area and the
higher ground where the barn was situated, alarmed Mr. Silverton and Sam
Hatfield.
“Where is Fred?” the Cub leader asked anxiously. “And the other boys?”
“We left them at the creek, not far from the log jam,” Dan explained.
“They’ve probably moved to higher ground somewhere along the old logging
road. We told them to wait.”
“We’ve got to get back there and work fast!” Mr. Silverton said, starting
hurriedly away.
“Mr. Silverton, let me dynamite the jam for you,” Dobbs offered
unexpectedly. “It’s dangerous work and you ain’t used to handling the
stuff.”
Mr. Silverton hesitated, apparently on the verge of refusing the request.
“Please let me help,” Dobbs urged. “It’s the least I can do to make
amends.”
“Very well,” the sportsman agreed. “We need your help. The dynamite is in
my car. Be careful it doesn’t get wet, because it’s all I have.”
“I’ll set off the blast,” Dobbs said, starting away. “Just be sure all
the boys are out of range when she goes off!”
“We’ll round the Cubs up now,” Mr. Hatfield said. “What about these
pheasants here in the barn?”
“Dan and I can move them up into the loft,” Brad offered eagerly.
“If we can dynamite the dam, it may not be necessary,” Mr. Silverton
said. “First, let’s see what can be done at the creek. If we fail there,
we’ll have to come back and move everything out.”
Dobbs obtained the dynamite from Mr. Silverton’s car, and the party set
off for the creek. Failing to see Fred, Mack, Chips and Red by the dam,
Mr. Hatfield gave the familiar Pack whistle.
From higher land far up the logging road came an immediate response.
“Round up the Cubs, Brad,” Mr. Hatfield instructed the Den Chief. “Then
keep them all together until after Dobbs sets off the dynamite.”
“Sure,” Brad agreed. “Coming, Dan?”
Leaving the log jam where an avalanche of water was pouring over the pile
of debris, the two boys quickly found the other four Cubs.
“We thought you never would get back,” Red said. He was wet to the waist
and covered with mud, having fallen down on the slippery road. “The creek
came up so fast, we moved out.”
Brad and Dan recounted their own experiences at the barn, and ended by
telling Dobbs’ confession.
“And all the while that guy was trying to put the blame on us!” Chips
exclaimed indignantly. “What a nerve! He drove us away from here because
he was afraid we’d learn the truth.”
“And we did, thanks to Mr. Hatfield’s suspicions about the logging road,”
declared Brad. “But if Dan hadn’t noticed the shipping tag on that crate,
I doubt Dobbs ever would have confessed.”
“What happened to Freeze and Bauer?” Fred questioned. “They got away?”
“Temporarily,” Brad answered. “Mr. Silverton knows their address though.
So unless they wise up and slip out of town, he’ll swear out a warrant
for their arrest.”
Keeping together, the Cubs returned to the creek, the banks of which had
dissolved into a dark, murky, ever-spreading lake.
On the log jam, endeavoring to place the charge of dynamite, were Dobbs,
Sam Hatfield and Mr. Silverton. Seeing the Cubs, Mr. Hatfield shouted to
Brad to come and hold the lighted lantern. The others, he warned to keep
far away.
Carefully Dobbs placed the dynamite charge, having trouble in keeping it
dry until the fuse could be lighted.
“Now everyone get out of here quick!” he ordered. “I’m sticking until the
last minute.”
As the long fuse began to burn, Mr. Silverton, Brad, and Sam Hatfield,
quickly waded back to the waiting Cubs. Together, all retreated a safe
distance.
“Come on, Dobbs!” Mr. Silverton shouted to the workman. “Better get out.
That fuse will burn fast!”
Thus urged, Dobbs leaped off the logs and started at a run through the
water. Gasping for breath, he reached the Cubs.
With increasing tenseness, everyone waited for the explosion. Minutes
passed and it did not come.
“The fuse has damped out,” Dobbs muttered. “I’ll go back and see what’s
happened.”
“No, wait!” Mr. Silverton commanded, placing a restraining hand on the
man’s arm.
Even as he spoke, there came a terrific blast which shook the ground
where the Cubs stood. Logs were hurled helter-skelter as the pile of
debris broke up.
“She’s moving out!” Dobbs cried jubilantly.
Wading to the stream’s edge, the Cubs watched the splintered logs float
off downstream.
A few of the larger pieces at either side of the jam had not been
dislodged by the blast, but the gap was large enough for the main flow of
the torrent to pour through.
“The water level will lower rapidly now,” Mr. Silverton said in
satisfaction.
Soon the Cubs observed for themselves that damp rings were appearing on
the bases of the trunks of nearby trees, indicating that the flood was
receding.
“The danger here is past,” declared Mr. Hatfield. “But on the river, I
fear it’s a different story.”
“Do you suppose the Holloway place is under water?” Brad asked anxiously.
“Not the house,” the Cub leader replied. “But the cabin may be flooded.
If not by this time, it may a little later. The river rises slowly, but
for days now it has been almost at bank level.”
“Shouldn’t we go there and see if Mr. Holloway needs help?” Dan
suggested. “A lot of Cub stuff is stored in the cabin.”
“Including that Indian headgear Red and I made!” Chips contributed. “I’d
sure hate to lose it just before the Pack handicraft show.”
“Speaking of that feather headgear, I owe the Cubs an apology,” Mr.
Silverton said. “Several of them, in fact. There’s no time to speak of
certain matters now, but later on, you’ll hear from me. In the meantime,
thanks for everything you’ve done tonight!”
The Cubs, eager to reach Mr. Holloway’s place, said good-bye and left the
sportsman and Dobbs at the creek. Returning to Mr. Hatfield’s parked car,
they rode with the Cub leader into Webster City, and on toward the
outskirts.
As the highway curved near the river, the Cubs noted with increasing
anxiety that large areas of low-lying shore had been nibbled away.
Finally, at the Holloway residence, they piled out of the car to see
lighted lanterns moving in the vicinity of the log cabin.
Mr. Hatfield and the Cubs trooped down the slope to find Midge, his
father, and Mrs. Holloway, moving bedding, furniture and knickknacks from
the cabin.
“Glad you’re here!” Midge’s father greeted the newcomers. “From the look
of your clothes, you’ve already had a bout with this flood.”
“A winning one, we’re glad to report!” the Cub leader laughed. “Need help
here?”
“We certainly do, although for the moment the situation is fairly well in
hand. But I’m worried about the folks on Rabb Island.”
The island of which Mr. Holloway spoke was situated in mid-river only a
short distance downstream from the Cub’s cabin. Until recently it had
been unoccupied.
“Why, I didn’t know anyone lived there,” Dan said in surprise.
“A family of four moved in about three weeks ago,” Mr. Holloway revealed.
“They’re living in a shack there—the mother and father and two
youngsters.”
“Rabb Island is low,” the Cub leader said. “And the river has risen
several feet in the last few hours.”
“The Dustin family has a boat of sorts,” Mr. Holloway said. “I wouldn’t
worry, only I know Mr. Dustin went away late this afternoon just before
the storm broke. Whether he got back or not, I don’t know.”
“Then Mrs. Dustin and the two children might be on the island alone?” Mr.
Holloway asked.
“That’s what’s worrying me. I don’t know.”
“Any way we can find out?”
“I intend to row over there as soon as I get things cleaned up here. But
the water’s risen so fast I haven’t had a chance.”
“I’ll go over right away and check up,” volunteered the Cub leader. “That
is, if I can borrow the boat.”
“Midge and I hauled it up by the boat house. The dock is under water
now.”
“We’ll help you get it out,” Dan offered eagerly. “Need anyone to go
along?”
“I can only take one Cub, because I may need to bring passengers back.”
“Take me,” urged Chips, who had just come out of the flooded cabin after
having rescued the Indian feather headdress. “I’m a good rower.”
“Better than I am,” conceded Dan as he saw Mr. Hatfield hesitate.
“Why, yes, Chips, you may go along,” agreed the Cub leader. “Now let’s
launch the boat.”
The Cubs carried the craft to the water’s edge. Chips climbed in with Mr.
Hatfield who took possession of the oars. The Cubs then gave a mighty
shove which sent the boat well on its way.
“That dope!” Red exclaimed belatedly.
“Who is?” demanded Brad who stood near the submerged dock watching the
boat disappear into the darkness of the river.
“Chips! Didn’t he take our Indian headdress with him?”
“He did have it in his hand,” declared Dan. “But it should be safe
enough.”
“Unless he absently drops it into the river! Or the boat may leak and the
feathers get wet. We did a lot of work on that headdress. Only this
morning Mr. Holloway told me he thought it might be one of the best items
entered in the Pack exhibition.”
“Well, don’t worry about it,” Brad advised. “Chips thinks a lot of that
headdress too. Depend upon it, he’ll take care of those precious
feathers!”
After the boat had vanished beyond view, the Cubs returned to the cabin
to see if anything had been left undone.
Every object which possibly might suffer damage from the rising water,
already had been removed to the Holloway home on the hill.
“The cabin itself can’t be injured by water,” Mr. Holloway told the boys.
“But it’s likely to be left in a dirty mess.”
“We’ll make a date right now to help you clean the place,” Dan offered.
“Everyone show up at the next Cub meeting armed with a mop!”
Because Brad and Dan were soaked through, Mrs. Holloway insisted that
they change clothing before starting home. Midge’s extra Cub uniform was
a fair fit for Dan, while Brad borrowed garments from Mr. Holloway’s
wardrobe. The other Cubs were provided with changes of socks.
“Sorry I can’t give you all complete outfits,” Mrs. Holloway said
regretfully.
“Don’t bother,” Mack told her. “Our folks will be coming for us in a few
minutes anyhow.”
While the Cubs were waiting for the arrival of their parents, Mrs.
Holloway brewed hot chocolate and made sandwiches. In the warm kitchen,
the boys consumed great quantities of food, and recounted the story of
their exciting pheasant hunt at Mr. Silverton’s farm.
“Say, shouldn’t Mr. Hatfield and Chips be getting back?” Dan presently
asked, glancing at the kitchen clock. “They’ve been gone a long while, or
so it seems to me.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” agreed Mr. Holloway. “Suppose we go down
to the river again and see if the boat is coming.”
Leaving the others to dry out by the stove, Dan and Mr. Holloway went
down to the water’s edge. The river lapped angrily at their feet. As far
as they could see there was no sign of a returning boat.
“No use to worry,” Mr. Holloway said. “They’ll be coming along any
minute—unless they should have run into a bad situation on the island.”
“The river’s still rising,” Dan observed. “Though not as fast as it was
an hour ago.”
He and Mr. Holloway took a last look out across the river toward Rabb
Island and then turned away. On the steps leading to the house, Dan felt
a strange compulsion to pause and once more gaze over his shoulder.
As he did so, he saw several flashes of light from the direction of the
island.
“Wait, Mr. Holloway!” he exclaimed. “I saw something just then!”
Excitedly, he indicated the direction from whence the flashes had come.
“I couldn’t tell exactly what it was, sir.”
Once more the pair returned to the water’s edge, watching intently and
waiting. Perhaps three minutes elapsed and then a dim light blinked on
and off several times.
“That might be a flashlight!” Mr. Holloway said. “It’s certainly coming
from Rabb Island or close to it.”
“Maybe Mr. Hatfield is trying to signal us! I know he had a flashlight in
his pocket.”
“It looks like code,” Mr. Holloway declared as the signals again were
seen. “Morse code. Can you read it, Dan?”
“No, but Brad can. He studied it in scouting last year.”
“Then get him! But be quick about it. Those flashes are becoming weaker.”
Requiring no urging, Dan darted up the stone steps two at a time,
bursting into the Holloway kitchen.
“Come quick, Brad!” he urged. “Someone is signaling from Rabb Island in
Morse code. We need you to read it.”
Not only Brad but all the Cubs poured out of the kitchen and ran down to
the river.
The flashes of light still were visible from across the water.
“Can you make them out, Brad?” Mr. Holloway asked. “It’s important that
we read the message. Mr. Hatfield and Chips may have run into trouble.”
“The flashes are so weak,” Brad said. “I can’t get it. Yes, now I can.”
“BOAT LOST. SEND—”
“Boat lost! Send help!” Dan finished as the flashes faded completely and
did not reappear. “Chips and Mr. Hatfield must have reached the island,
but they’re in trouble. We’ve got to get to them right away!”