THE SAVING OF NODDY
“How did it happen, Andy?” asked Jerry, as he ran along.
“Yes, tell us more about it,” urged Bob.
“Is it the big reservoir dam that’s broken?” asked Ned. “If it
is, there’ll be a lot of damage, and yet I don’t hear any great
excitement,” and he paused a moment to listen if he could catch the
roar of rushing waters. But there came no unusual sound from the
direction of the river which bordered the town of Cresville, where the
boys lived.
“I don’t know--didn’t see it!” panted Andy. “Old Pete Bumps told
me--said it was the dam--terrible--everything washed away--come
on--wow!”
“Oh, if it was old Pete Bumps, our hired man, who told you, it can’t
be so bad,” returned Bob Baker. “Pete always makes a big fuss over
everything. Let’s take it easy, fellows.”
“You can’t tell,” interposed Jerry. “Something must have happened. I
see a lot of fellows running toward the river,” and he nodded toward
a side street, through which could be had a glimpse of a thoroughfare
parallel to the one on which our friends were, both extending to the
stream. “Come on,” finished the tall lad. “We’ll see what it is,” and
he increased his pace, his companions doing likewise.
While I have just a few moments before the boys reach the river, and in
which time they are doing nothing but running, and wondering what has
happened, I will take the opportunity to tell you something about the
chums, and the various books, previous to this one, in which they have
figured.
The first volume of the series entitled, “The Motor Boys,” told how
the chums got together, and entered a bicycle race. Later on they got
motor-cycles, and then an automobile in which they had many adventures.
They took a long trip overland, got possession of a gold mine, and
later went to Mexico, where they were in great danger. But they managed
to escape, and, on a long trip across the plains they rescued the
hermit of Lost Lake.
After these adventures, our heroes decided that motor boating would
suit them, and they succeeded in getting a fine craft. In the volume
named, “The Motor Boys Afloat,” is told how the lads cruised in the
_Dartaway_, and succeeded in finding the robbers who had broken into
Mr. Slade’s department store.
The lads liked motor boating so well that they took a cruise on the
Atlantic, during which they solved the mystery of the lighthouse, and,
later on, they went to the strange waters of the Florida Everglades.
Naturally, after their adventures on the Atlantic, they turned their
attention to the other ocean, the Pacific, and there they succeeded in
locating a lost derelict.
By this time the science of navigating the air was becoming better
known, and aeroplanes and dirigible balloons were being perfected.
It could not be expected that such lads as the motor boys could be
kept from this field of activity, and with the assistance of an old
balloonist of experience, Rupert Glassford, Bob, Ned and Jerry built a
motorship. In the book called “The Motor Boys in the Clouds,” I told
how they made a great trip for fame and fortune, and, some time later
they went over the Rocky Mountains, and solved the mystery of the air.
Thrilling indeed were the adventures that happened next, for when
they made their voyage over the ocean they succeeded in rescuing
from mid-air a certain Mr. Jackson, who was trying out a new kind of
balloon. He and his crew were rendered unconscious by escaping gas,
but they were brought around all right after hard work.
In the next book, “The Motor Boys on the Wing,” I told how the three
chums sought and found the bank robbers, and recovered the stolen
money. They had been home from this trip some little time, when the
incident narrated in the first chapter of the present volume took place.
I might add that the three chums lived in the town of Cresville, not
far from Boston. Their names you are already familiar with. Bob Baker,
the fat lad, was the son of Mr. Andrew Baker, a well-known banker. Ned
Slade’s father was Aaron Slade, a wealthy department store owner, while
Jerry Hopkins was the son of a rich widow, Mrs. Julia Hopkins. The
three lads were about the same age, full of fun, grit and the love of
adventure.
Many times, though, their fun was spoiled by a mean, bullying lad of
the town, Noddy Nixon by name, and his crony, Bill Berry. But the motor
boys generally managed to get the best of Noddy in the end. In this
they were sometimes aided by Andy Rush, the excitable little chap, who
had given the alarm about the bursting dam. Andy was always excited,
and sometimes by the slightest cause.
Professor Uriah Snodgrass was a well-known scientist. He often went
with the boys on their trips, and he was continually on the lookout for
rare bugs, or other specimens. He was employed by a well-known college,
to get various articles for its museum, and often the professor would
do odd things for the sake of getting a choice insect or reptile.
He was a great friend of the boys, and often visited them at their
houses. He had spent some time with Mr. Slade, who was one of the
trustees of the college to which the professor was attached, and Mr.
Snodgrass was about to return to his duties when, in a talk with Ned,
the conversation turned to radium, as I have mentioned. But now all
thoughts of that, and of Snake Island, were forgotten in the alarm
raised by Andy.
“What do you think can have happened, anyhow?” asked Ned, as he raced
along beside Jerry.
“I give it up; but it’s something, anyhow,” was the tall lad’s answer,
“and that, in spite of the fact that you’ve usually got to discount
what Andy says. Look at the crowd!”
As Jerry spoke he and the others reached the end of the street, and
came in sight of the river. They could see that something out of the
ordinary was taking place, but the stream did not seem to be unusually
high, though it had risen somewhat on account of heavy spring rains.
“The big dam hasn’t burst, or we’d hear the roar of waters,” declared
Ned.
“Yes, and we’d see ’em, too,” added Bob.
“Well, something busted, because Pete Bumps told me!” insisted Andy.
“Maybe the bottom dropped out of the river--water may be all running
away--ground sunk in--we’ll all fall through--whoop!”
“Andy!” cried Jerry. “Stop, or you’ll burst! Cool down; can’t you?”
“I can’t seem to,” answered the small lad. “Hey!” he cried, “there goes
one house, anyhow,” and he pointed to a structure floating down the
stream.
“That’s so!” agreed Bob. “It’s a boathouse, too. I wonder what’s up?”
They saw a moment later. Just above where the street on which they were
running came out on the river front, was a small stream that joined the
main one. This little stream had been dammed up, to provide a flow of
water for an old-fashioned iron mill that used a turbine wheel. Part of
this mill-dam had given way because of the heavy rains, and the waters
that were held back had suddenly been released, to flow into the river
proper.
There was quite a crowd collected on the both banks of the river, and
employees from the mill were endeavoring to repair the break in the
dam, by putting timbers in it, and filling in the gap with stones, sod
and earth.
“Say, this isn’t such an awful flood!” cried Jerry as he took in the
scene. “I thought you said the whole town was being washed away, Andy?”
“And you said houses were being carried down,” added Ned.
“Well, there’s one house washed away, anyhow,” declared the small,
excitable chap, as if to justify himself.
“That’s so!” cried Bob, “and it’s Noddy Nixon’s boathouse. It’s been
washed away, and it’s going right down the river.”
“It didn’t take much to wash it away,” said Jerry. “It was built too
far out in the water, anyhow, and the piles it stood on weren’t much
bigger than clothes poles. I always thought it would wash away if the
water got high, and now it has.”
Noddy Nixon had recently built a new boathouse on a piece of land near
the river. It was just below the mill dam, and, naturally, when the
rush of waters came, the structure was carried away, for it was not
securely built. It was now floating down the stream, careening from
side to side in the rushing waters.
“Somebody ought to save that boathouse!” cried Andy.
“Let Noddy do it then,” answered Jerry. “It isn’t worth an awful lot,
and it will be worth less when this flood gets through with it.”
“Look!” suddenly exclaimed Ned. “Some one is in the boathouse!”
He pointed toward it, and, at the same time a cry arose from the crowds
on either bank.
“Some one’s in the house!” was the shout. “He’ll be drowned!”
“It’s a man!” yelled Andy.
“It’s Noddy himself!” cried Bob.
The figure on the narrow platform in front of the floating boathouse
could now be plainly seen. It was that of Noddy, as Bob had said, and
the bully who had been endeavoring, by means of a long pole, to push
his house toward shore, now threw up his hands, and cried for help.
“It’s time he did that before,” commented Ned. “The current’s got him
now, and he’ll never get that house to land.”
“Where was he all this while?” asked Bob. “I didn’t notice him at
first.”
“Guess he must have been on the other side, out of sight,” spoke Jerry.
Noddy was now frantically rushing up and down, calling at the top of
his voice:
“Help! Help!”
“Say!” suddenly cried Ned. “The rapids! He’ll be down in them soon, and
they’re dangerous with the water as high as it is now! That house will
be knocked to pieces!”
“That’s so!” agreed Jerry. “Noddy ought to swim ashore while he has the
chance. Otherwise he may be hurt! I forgot about the rapids.”
The “rapids” were really not very dangerous at low water, but when
the river rose, and dashed over the jagged rocks, about a mile below
town, they formed eddies and whirlpools that were exceedingly risky to
navigate. In fact no boats dare risk them with the stream at flood.
It was toward these rapids that Noddy’s boathouse, torn away by the
waters, was rapidly drifting. The crowd soon realized this and began
shouting advice.
“Swim ashore!”
“Get a boat and save him!”
“Jump off!”
“Throw him a rope!”
These were some of the expressions called to Noddy, but he paid no heed
to them, continuing to race up and down on the platform, waving his
hands, and yelling for help.
“Say, something ought to be done to help him,” remarked Ned in a low
voice.
“Yes,” agreed Jerry. “It’s Noddy Nixon, and he’s been pretty mean to
us, but I suppose----”
“Our motor boat!” interrupted Bob, pointing to a fine boathouse a
little distance up the stream. It was where the boys kept their craft,
and was above the point where the swollen mill stream joined the river,
and so, consequently, was in no danger.
“I guess it’s up to us to save him,” said Jerry slowly. “Nobody else
seems to have sense enough to do it. There aren’t any other motor boats
near by.”
“Where’s Noddy’s, I wonder?” asked Mr. Snodgrass, for he knew that the
bully owned a power craft.
“He had a collision with the dock the other day, and sprung a leak,”
explained Andy Rush, who had cooled down somewhat. “His boat is laid up
for repairs.”
“Like our auto,” put in Ned, for the machine of our heroes was across
the river, in a distant town, being overhauled.
“Well, if we’re going to save Noddy Nixon, we’d better be getting a
move on!” cried Jerry. “Come on, fellows!”
He raced toward their boathouse, followed by his two chums, the
professor and Andy Rush. It was the work of but a few minutes to
unchain the motor boat, run it out into the stream, start the engine
and steer down after the floating boathouse with the frantic figure
racing about on the platform.
“Hurrah!” yelled the crowd, when they saw our heroes start out. “The
motor boys to the rescue! Noddy’ll be saved now, all right!”
“Help! Help!” yelled the bully, as his boathouse careened dangerously,
almost throwing him into the water.
“The flood’s getting higher,” said Ned in a low voice, as he looked
over the side of the boat. They were opposite the dam now, and in the
grip of the rushing waters.
“Yes, there goes another slice of the dam!” cried Bob, as they saw a
large portion of it slip into the water. The men on top, who had been
endeavoring to stop the gap, had to race for shore.
“Say, we’re going to have our work cut out for us saving Noddy!” cried
Jerry as he held the wheel in a firmer grasp.