Frank seldom acted from impulse. Still, he had a habit of thinking
quickly in an emergency, and seldom wasted time.
"We must try and save him, Bluff!" he exclaimed, as he watched the
approaching boy, who was staggering at times, and seemed to be very much
frightened.
How the son of the St Paul millionaire chanced to get mixed up in a
street riot, was the deepest kind of a mystery; but there was certainly
no time for trying to solve it now.
"Sure we ought to, Frank!" came the ready response from impulsive Bluff.
True, he had every reason possible for disliking Oswald; but the
dreadful condition of the other appealed to Bluff, who was even willing
to take chances himself, in order to be of assistance to a fellow human
being in trouble.
"This way, Ossie!" shouted Frank, seeing that the bewildered boy was
about to turn aside, and try to escape by flanking the crowd; which must
have only resulted in another shower of stones, and further injury to
him.
Hearing his name spoken, the boy turned in their direction. Hope had
apparently once more taken root in his soul. In that minute when in
distress, he forgot all the reason he thought he had for hating Frank
Langdon, and only looked toward him as a boy from the same college, who
was offering him assistance.
He staggered a little as he reached them.
"Oh! get me away from here, fellows!" he fairly gasped, as he held out
his trembling hands toward them.
The rioters were hurrying in their direction, some of them shouting all
sorts of threats; and stones even began to patter around the spot. In
other quarters separate fights were in progress, where little bunches of
the strike-breakers had been brought to bay, and were trying to defend
themselves.
Such confusion and howling the boys believed they had never heard
before; nor would they ever care to again.
Frank had already made up his mind just what should be done, so that he
wasted no time after the desperate boy reached them. Hooking a hand
through one of Ossie's arms he bade Bluff to do the same on the other
side. And in this fashion did the three hurry as fast as they could
along the open levee.
"Where are you going?" asked Bluff, always wanting to know.
"To the houseboat!" replied Frank, glancing back over his shoulder, and
wondering whether they could make it before some of the rioters caught
up with them.
Oswald heard what was said, and made no comment. Doubtless in his
condition of terror any port in a storm might be his motto. Only a short
time before he had thought of the _Pot Luck_ only when plotting how to
injure the houseboat of his rival; but now a refuge aboard that same
craft was to be considered the finest thing possible.
"A little faster, if you can make it, Ossie," Frank said, presently,
when he began to fear that they would yet be overtaken, and perhaps
beaten badly by the unthinking, yelling rioters.
"Do you think they'll get us?" gasped the other.
"I guess we'll make it all right; but if you could start up a little
spurt it'd be a good thing," replied Frank, encouragingly.
Fear is a splendid spur, and Ossie really did manage to quicken his
pace, though he had to grit his teeth, and make the most desperate
efforts in order to accomplish it.
"Bully! there she is!" cried Bluff, excitedly; and although Bluff had so
recently expressed the desire to look at a riot, doubtless by now he was
fully satisfied with his experience, and would welcome the shelter of
the houseboat almost as gladly as Oswald himself.
They could see the three who had been left on board, watching their
approach; and Frank made all sorts of wild motions with his arms, trying
to tell them to get the hawser loose, so as to be ready to let go the
instant the fugitives of the levee arrived, pushing the houseboat out
upon the swift current.
Jerry seemed bewildered, and it was Will, after all, who grasped the
true meaning of Frank's shouts and gestures, for he hurried away to the
new rope, where it was fastened ashore, while Jerry snatched up a push
pole, and stood ready for work.
Thicker came the stones; and several times the fleeing boys narrowly
escaped being struck; which was fortunate indeed, since more or less
injury would surely have followed such a disaster.
When they finally reached the boat, the leading spirits among their
unreasoning pursuers, both black and white, were not more than a hundred
feet away, and still running strong.
"Push off!" gasped Frank, himself seizing hold of a pole, and starting
to throw all of his strength into the labor.
Even old Luther lent a hand; and in this crisis the unwelcome passenger
proved at least that he was no coward, Frank noticed, for he exposed
himself as well as any of the others, until finally Frank thrust him
inside the cabin.
The boat was now moving down the river, but altogether too close to the
shore to wholly escape the rain of missiles that came pelting after,
thrown by the angry mob, under the belief that those aboard were somehow
concerned in the bringing of strike-breakers across the river to take
their places.
It kept the boys busy dodging the stones, even though four-fifths of
these dropped into the river. There was a constant pattering and banging
as others struck the cabin and deck of the boat. One smashed through a
window, and the crowd yelled hoarsely with delight at this evidence of
good marksmanship.
Frank, however, believed they would soon be free from this fusillade. He
saw that the levee came to an end just below, and consequently the crowd
could no longer pursue the boat with profit. Besides, there were so many
other scenes of excitement taking place all around, that by degrees the
strikers were dropping off. The floating houseboat was really beyond
their reach now; and they concluded that it would be more fun to attack
a group of men who would fight back, than bombard a few boys who simply
wanted to get away from the city.
So the last stone was thrown, and as the _Pot Luck_ sailed out upon the
broad reach below the city, where the two mighty rivers have their
confluence, Frank and his chums could get their breath again, and survey
the damages.
Two windows in the cabin had been broken, and there were a score of
rocks and pieces of iron lying on the deck; besides numerous dents in
the woodwork; but on the whole, they might feel they had escaped in
pretty fair luck.
Ossie was recovering his breath, and also his courage. He seemed to feel
queerly about having been rescued from danger by the very boys whom he
had been trying to injure for so long.
Frank thought the opportunity for healing the breach between them was a
good one, and after they had managed to push the houseboat in toward the
shore, below the mouth of the Ohio, a hard task that took much time, he
approached his rival, with a pleasant smile on his face.
"That was a pretty ugly experience, Ossie," he remarked. "How did it
happen you got caught in that mob, and were taken for a strike-breaker?"
"Why, you see, we had anchored down below here, when I remembered that I
ought to have done an important errand for my father in Cairo," the
other explained. "As our engine was out of commission again, I hired a
man to row me up to the city. He took more than half the morning to do
it, too, and was to bring me back again in the afternoon. I heard about
the rioting, and thought I'd like to see something of it on my way down
to the river to find my boatman. Then, almost before I knew what was
happening, it broke out all around me, and I was caught up in a pack of
blacks retreating before an attack of another mob. I tried to get away,
but you saw what happened. Whew! I wouldn't like to repeat that
experience. And look, there's the _Lounger_ right now! Could you hold
up, and put me aboard?"
Frank was quite willing. They had one passenger aboard now, which was
more than the law, as laid down by Uncle Felix, allowed; and they
certainly did not care for another.
He believed that if Oswald had listened to his better nature he would
have wiped the slate clean then and there, after finding himself
indebted so heavily to his supposed rival; and become friends from that
hour with the crew of the _Pot Luck_.
But there were his three chums lining the side of the _Lounger_, and
evidently in a great state of mind to see Ossie coming back aboard the
other houseboat, which certainly showed signs of hard usage.
The anchor was allowed to drop overboard, and Frank himself took the
captain of the _Lounger_ across the few fathoms of water separating the
two houseboats. Oswald was greeted by a noisy outcry as he climbed up on
deck. The three who stood there, fearing that there was some danger that
the bad feeling of the past would be crossed out, scowled at the crew of
the _Pot Luck_, and even gave utterance to more or less contemptuous
remarks concerning the rival craft.
No doubt these things had their influence upon Oswald. He looked at
Frank after he had climbed aboard his own boat, and seemed almost about
to stretch out his hand, to thank him for all he had done; but the old
spirit was still uppermost.
"So-long, Langdon. Do as much for you some day, perhaps. But, of course
you had to save your own bacon in the bargain; for as soon as you ran
they believed you were strike-breakers as much as they did me. All the
same, it was rather decent of you; and perhaps you may not be the bad
lot I've considered you."
Frank only smiled, and made no reply, as he paddled back to his own
boat. But he knew that his chums were boiling with indignation, for as
they once more resumed their passage down-stream Bluff burst out with:
"Well, of all the mean, ornery skunks I ever met up with, that Ossie
Fredericks takes the cake. He hasn't even common decency enough to offer
to shake hands, and thank the fellows who stood all that stone pelting
just to drag him in out of the wet. Shucks! I wish now, Frank, we'd just
let him take his medicine. He'd be getting all he deserved, and no more,
the ungrateful cur!"
"You never can tell," said Frank, calmly. "Perhaps, when he gets to
thinking it over, he may see a light; but we only did our duty. Bluff;
and that's got to be our reward."