REFUGEES OF THE ROOF
"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 am _so_ glad 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.