LENDING A HELPING HAND
"What we see here isn't all of the trouble by a lot," Max ventured, as
they stood and watched the remarkable sights all around them.
"I should say not," Steve quickly added; "already they've begun to get
reports of washouts down below, where houses have left their
foundations, and gone off on the current; while barns, chicken coops,
pig pens and fences are being swept away by dozens and scores. It's
going to be the most terrible flood that ever visited this section. I
only hope nobody gets drowned in it, that's all."
"I met Gus French a while back," Bandy-legs happened to remember,
though he had said nothing of the circumstance before, there being so
many exciting events taking place right along, "and he told me they
were a heap worried at their house."
"What for?" demanded Steve, who had a weakness for the pretty sister of
Gus, though of late there had existed a foolish coolness between them,
founded on some small happening that grew into a misunderstanding;
"their house stands higher than a whole lot in town, and I don't see
why they'd worry."
"Oh! it ain't that," the other boy hastened to say; "but p'raps you
didn't know that yesterday Mazie Dunkirk and Bessie French went to stay
over Sunday with an aunt of the French girl's about twenty miles down
the river; and they say that the old house is on pretty low ground, so
that if the river rises much more she might be carried off the
foundation!"
Steve gave a half groan, and Max too turned a little white, for the
Mazie whom Bandy-legs referred to was a very good friend of his, whom
he had always escorted to barn dances and singing school, and also
skated with winters.
"If I had a friend who owned a good motorboat now," said Steve, between
his set teeth, "I give you my word I'd like to borrow the same."
"W-w-what for?" demanded Toby, appalled at the thought of any one
venturing out on that swirling river in a puny powerboat.
"I'd take chances, and run down below to see if I could be of any help
to the folks there," Steve went on to say, gloomily; "but I don't know
anybody that I might borrow even a skiff from."
"Yes, and if you did, the chances are he'd think twice before loaning
you his boat," Max told him. "In the first place he'd expect you to
snag the craft, and sink the same, because you do everything with such
a rush and whoop. And then again, the way things look around here
every boat that's owned within five miles of town will be needed to
rescue people from second-story windows before to-morrow night."
"D-d-do you think it's g-g-going to be as b-b-bad as all that, Max?"
"I'm afraid so, Toby, if half of all that rain gets here, with the
river more than out of its banks now. But, Steve, I wouldn't worry
about the girls if I were you. Long before this Bessie's relatives
have taken the horses, and made for the higher ground of the hills.
Even if you did manage to get down there you'd find the house empty,
and have all your work for nothing."
Steve did not answer, but his face remained unusually serious for a
long time, since he was doubtless picturing all sorts of terrible
things happening to the girls who were visiting down the river.
As the morning advanced more and more discouraging reports kept
circulating through the stricken town. The river was rising at a rate
that promised to cause its waves to lap the roadway of the bridge by
night-time; and everybody believed this structure was bound to go out
before another dawn.
It was about the middle of the morning when the four chums, in
wandering around bent on seeing everything that was going on during
such exciting times, came upon a scene that aroused their immediate
indignation.
Several rough half-grown young rowdies had pretended to offer to assist
a poor old crippled storekeeper remove his stock of candies and cakes
from the threatened invasion of the waters, already lapping his door
and creeping across the floor of his little shop. Their intentions
however were of a far different character, for they had commenced to
pounce upon the dainties on his shelves, despite his weak if energetic
protests.
"What you shoutin' about, old codger?" demanded one of the three
bullies, as he crammed his pockets with whatever he fancied in the line
of candy; "the water's coming right in and grab all your stock, anyway;
so, what difference does it make if we just lick up a few bites? Mebbe
we'll help get the rest of your stuff out of this, if so be we feels
like workin'. So close your trap now, and let up on that yawp!"
Max and the others heard this sort of talk as they stopped outside the
door of the little candy shop in which, as small lads, they could
remember having spent many a spare penny.
It filled them with indignation, first because they thought a good deal
of the poor old crippled man who made a scant living selling small toys
and candies to the school children; and second on account of the fact
that they knew this set of rowdies of old, having had many disputes
with them in the past.
Their former leader, Ted Shatter, had been missed from his accustomed
haunts for some time now, and it was whispered that he had been sent to
a reform school by his father, who wielded considerable power in
political circles, but could not expect to keep his lawless boy from
arrest if he continued to defy the authorities as he had been doing.
Since then the "gang" had been led by a new recruit, named Ossie Kemp;
and the other two with him were the old offenders, who have appeared
before now in the stories of this series, Amiel Toots and Shack Beggs.
"Back me up, boys," said Max, hastily turning to his three chums, "and
we'll run that crowd out of there in a hurry, or know the reason why."
"We'll stand by you, Max," replied Bandy-legs, quickly.
"You b-b-bet we will," added Toby, aggressively doubling up his fists.
"To the limit!" echoed Steve, stooping down to secure a stout stick his
roving eye chanced to alight upon, and which appealed to his fighting
instincts as just the thing for an emergency like this.
Max immediately pushed straight into the little store, and, as he
expected would be the case, his eyes fell first upon the raiding
bullies, and then the slight figure of the distressed crippled
storekeeper, wringing his hands as he faced complete ruin, between his
inhuman persecutors and the pitiless flood.
At the entrance of a new lot of boys the poor old man gave a cry of
despair, as though he believed that this would complete his misfortune;
then as he recognized Max Hastings a sudden gleam of renewed hope
struggled across his face; for Max had a splendid reputation in Carson,
and was looked up to as a fine fellow who would certainly never descend
to inflicting pain on a helpless cripple.
"What's going on here?" demanded Max, as the three rowdies turned to
face the newcomers, and, made cowardly by guilt, looked ready to sneak
away. "We're the advance guard of those coming to help you, Mr.
McGirt; what are these boys doing here, and did you tell them to fill
their pockets with your stock?"
"No, no, not at all!" cried the storekeeper, in a quivering voice;
"they burst in on me and I asked them to please carry some of the stock
I've tied up in packages to higher ground, for I shall be ruined if I
lose what little I've got; but they just laughed at me, and started to
taking whatever they fancied. I would not mind if only they saved my
property first, and then treated themselves afterwards."
Max frowned fiercely at the three skulking boys. He had purposely
spoken as if there might be men coming on the run to assist old Mr.
McGirt; for he knew the aggressive natures of at least Shack and Ossie,
though Amiel Toots was a craven who generally struck behind one's back
and then ran off; and Max did not care to engage in any fight at such a
time and with such a crew.
"If you don't empty every pocket, and then clear out of here, I'll see
that you are accused of robbery; and when there's a flood like this
they often hang looters to the lamp-posts, perhaps you know? The
people won't stand for anything like that. Hurry and put everything
back or I'll see that you land in the lock-up. Steve, be ready to step
out and give the signal to the Chief if I tell you to. Turn that other
pocket inside-out, Amiel Toots. You did expect to make a fine haul
here, didn't you? Instead of helping the poor old man save his stock
you thought you might as well have it as the water. Are you all
through? Then break away, and good riddance to the lot of you for a
pack of cowards and thieves!"
Amiel Toots slunk away with a cowed look; Shack Beggs and Ossie Kemp
followed him out of the door, but they were black in the face with rage
and fear; and the look they shot at Max showed that should the
opportunity ever come to even the score they would only too willingly
accept chances in order to wipe the slate clean.
"And now, Mr. McGirt, we're ready to help you any way we can,"
continued Max, once the three young desperadoes had departed to seek
new pastures for exploiting their evil natures; "where could we carry
these packages you've got done up? And while we're on our way, perhaps
you could get the rest of your stock ready. We'll fetch back the empty
baskets."
The poor cripple's peaked face glowed with renewed hope, for he had
been hovering on the brink of despair.
"Oh! how glad I am you came when you did," he said, in trembling tones;
"I would have lost everything I had in the world, between the water and
those young ruffians. One of them even had the audacity to ask me why
I had bothered cleaning out my cash drawer. If I could only move my
stuff up the hill to Mr. Ben Rollins' print shop I'm almost sure he
would find a corner where I could store the packages until the river
went down again, for he is a very good friend of mine."
"All right," said Steve, "and we know Mr. Rollins well, too. I've even
helped him gather up news for his weekly paper, _Town Topics_. So load
up, fellows, and we'll see what can be done. It wouldn't only take a
few trips to carry this lot of stuff up there."
Each boy took all he could carry and started off, while the
store-keeper commenced hurriedly packing the balance of his stock in
trade into bundles, pleased with the new outlook ahead, and grateful
for these young friends who had come so unexpectedly to his assistance
in his darkest hour of need.
After all it was hardly more than fun for Max and his comrades, because
they were all fairly stout fellows, and accustomed to an active outdoor
life. They were back again before the owner of the little shop
expected they could have gone half the distance.
"It's all right, sir," Bandy-legs hastened to assure Mr. McGirt; "the
editor of the paper happened to be there, hurrying out some handbills
warning people to prepare for the worst that might come; and he said
you were quite welcome to store your stuff in his shed. He only wished
everybody else down in the lower part of town could save their
belongings, too; but there's bound to be an awful loss, he says. Now,
let's load up again, fellers; I feel that I could stagger along under
what I've gathered together here; and this trip ought to pretty well
clean things up, hadn't it, Max?"
"I think it will," replied the other, also collecting a load as large
as he believed himself able to carry. "And if I can find our man with
his wagon, Mr. McGirt, I'll have him take what furniture you've got in
that little room back there, and put it with your stock in the print
shop."
"Thank you a thousand times, Max," said the old cripple; and somehow
those four lads fancied that they had been repaid many times over for
what they had done as they saw his wrinkled face lose its look of worry
and taken on a smile of fresh hope and gratitude.
It happened that Max did run across their hired man busily engaged in
carrying some one's furniture up the hill; and he agreed to look after
the cripple the very next thing.
"Be sure you make him ride with you, Conrad," was the last thing Max
told the man, who faithfully promised to look after the little old
storekeeper, and see that he got to a place of-safety.
It was now getting along toward noon. No sun shone above, indeed, they
had seen nothing but a leaden sky for a number of days; which of course
added to the gloom that surrounded the unfortunate town, as well as the
farms and hamlets strung along the valley through which the Evergreen
River flowed.
"Get together again after we've had some lunch!" Steve told his three
mates, as they started for their respective homes--rather reluctantly;
because so many exciting things seemed to be happening every half hour
that none of them wanted to miss any more than they could help.
Indeed, it is a question whether anything less serious than satisfying
the cravings of hunger, always an important subject with a growing boy,
would have induced them to go home at all.
"How high was it the last report?" asked Bandy-legs; for somehow there
always seems to be a peculiar fascination about learning the worst,
when floods rage, and destruction hovers overhead.
"Two feet, nine inches above the danger line, and still coming up an
inch an hour, with another big rain promised soon!" replied Steve,
promptly, though he did not seem to take any particular pride in the
fact that all previous records had already been broken by the usually
peaceful Evergreen stream.
"G-g-gosh!" gasped Toby, "there never was, and never will be again such
a fierce time in old Carson. B-b-beats that morning I found all them
animals from the c-c-circus a gathered in my back yard where I had my
own little m-m-menagerie. S-s-see you later, everybody," and with that
he actually started on a run for home, doubtless only thinking that he
might in this way shorten the time he would be forced to stay away from
the river front, where things were happening it seemed, every minute of
the day.
Few regular meals were served in Carson that day. People were too much
alarmed over the dismal prospect facing the manufacturing town to think
of taking things easy. They stayed on the streets, and gathered in
groups, talking about the flood, and trying to find some loophole of
hope; but many pale faces could be seen among the women, and there was
an increasing demand for wagons to haul household goods from the lower
sections to places of safety.
That was certainly a day never to be forgotten in Carson; and what made
it even worse was the gloomy outlook which the weather predictions held
out to those already in the grip of the greatest flood in the history
of the valley.