THE RESCUE
Frank Hardy had seen that the rope was insecure. He had already laid a
plan of action in case the rope broke.
The rapids were just around the bend in the river. The stream was
narrow at that point and willow trees overhung the bank. The moment the
rope broke Frank leaped into action.
He stumbled free of the group and raced along the river bank toward the
willows. He could see Joe struggling helplessly in the swiftly flowing
stream and he knew that if the current once carried him beyond the
willows his brother would be doomed. No human being could live in those
tossing rapids.
Could he reach the trees in time? Would the current carry Joe and
Lester close enough to the bank to enable him to rescue them? Would he
be able to hold them until help arrived?
The bank suddenly dipped and he hurried down the grassy slope toward
the willows. He was still in advance of the struggling figure in the
stream and he knew that he had a chance, although it was but a slim
chance at best, of rescuing his brother and the strange boy.
He reached the willows at last. They grew out over the smooth and
rushing water. Frank ran to the edge of the soggy bank, grasped one of
the trees, and leaned out over the stream.
So far, luck was with him, for Joe was still a few yards away. But he
was still too far out in the water to enable Frank to grasp him as he
passed.
But Joe had guessed Frank's intention. As well as he could, in spite
of the fact that he was handicapped by the weight of the unconscious
Lester, he tried to struggle closer toward the shore.
The current was with him, for it swung close to the bend at this point
and it swept Joe directly beneath the overhanging willow to which Frank
was clinging, steadying himself with his feet on the bank.
As Joe was swept beneath him, Frank reached far down. For one
breathless second he thought he had missed his brother's outstretched
hand. Then their fingers met and he gripped Joe tightly, hanging on to
him with all his strength.
The willow bent and swayed beneath the added weight, but Frank held
firm. The muscles of his arm ached with the strain and he knew that
he could not hold out long, but already he could hear shouts and the
sounds of running feet that told him the others were coming to the
rescue.
"Hang on! We're coming!" Chet was shouting, and a moment later Frank
heard his chum threshing through the bushes. Phil and the others were
close behind.
With his companions clinging to him, Frank managed to drag Joe ashore,
still grasping the clothes of the unconscious boy. Dripping wet, Joe
scrambled up on the bank, and together they carried Lester out of the
willows on to the grass.
First aid was immediately rendered. Lester was not seriously hurt. He
had swallowed a great quantity of water and the blow on the head had
stunned him, but after a while he stirred and opened his eyes. The old
man looked relieved, although the other two men watched the scene with
indifference.
When Lester was finally able to sit up his first question was.
"Who saved me?"
Frank indicated his brother.
"Joe did."
Lester struggled to his feet and gratefully shook Joe's hand.
"I don't know how to thank you," he said simply. "But you know I'm
grateful. I would have been drowned if it hadn't been for you."
Joe was embarrassed.
"It was him, really," he said, indicating Frank. "If it hadn't been for
him we'd have both been in the rapids by now."
Lester grasped Frank by the hand.
"I have both of you to thank, then. You risked your lives for me."
The old man nodded.
"It was brave work," he said reluctantly. "I'm mighty thankful to you
boys for saving the lad. And after this," he said harshly to Lester,
"stay away from that mill race. I've told you fifty times that you're
liable to get drowned fooling around there. Next time you mightn't be
so lucky."
"I'm sorry, Uncle Dock," answered the boy.
The party made their way back toward the mill and the boys were
conscious of the sullen glances of the two men who were with "Uncle
Dock." It was clear that the pair wished the lads would go away.
"Better take the kid inside and let him dry his clothes," advised
Markel roughly, gesturing to Lester. "We'd better get back to work."
Joe's clothes were soaked, but the offer evidently did not include him.
"Have you got a fire in the mill?" he hinted hopefully.
Uncle Dock glanced at Markel, who shook his head in a surly manner.
"No," he answered. "Lester can go to bed until his clothes dry."
"My own clothes are pretty wet."
Markel affected not to hear this remark, but hastened on toward the
mill.
"When did you take over the mill?" asked Frank of the old man.
"A few weeks ago."
"What are your prices for milling?" asked Chet. "My father was saying
the other day that he wished the old Turner mill would open again. If
he had known you were running the place he would have been over by now.
He can put a lot of trade your way."
Uncle Dock hesitated and glanced at the other man.
"You'd better talk to him, Kurt."
"Our prices are pretty high," said Kurt shortly. "We're makin'
breakfast foods, chiefly."
"But don't you need grain?"
"We're pretty well stocked up."
"What are your milling prices, anyway?" persisted Chet.
Kurt thought for a moment, then gave Chet a list of prices which were
so greatly in excess of those charged by the Bayport mills that they
were prohibitive.
"Why, that's higher than dad would want to pay," Chet said.
Uncle Dock shrugged his shoulders.
"Take it or leave it. We ain't askin' for his trade."
"You won't get it. Not at those prices."
It was quite evident that Uncle Dock and his strange associates were
not desirous of encouraging any outside trade for the old mill,
However, Frank realized that the men had a right to manufacture
patented food in secret if they wished, so he nudged Chet as a signal
against any further questions.
They had reached the door of the mill by now, and Markel hustled Lester
inside before he had a chance to say anything further to the boys,
although the lad cast an appealing glance behind as though he would
have liked again to express his thanks to his rescuers.
"Where do you fellows live?" asked Kurt, peering at them from under his
shaggy eyebrows.
"Bayport."
"You're a long way from home."
"We're just on a hike," explained Frank. "We just thought we'd come
around this way."
"You'll be late for supper if you don't hurry back."
This broad hint was not lost on the boys. It was clear that the men
wanted to get rid of them.
"I guess we'll be on our way. We'll go in for a swim farther up the
river so Joe can have a chance to dry his clothes."
This seemed to remind Uncle Dock of the fact that Joe had, after all,
saved Lester's life. He reached for his pocket.
"I'd like to reward you for saving the lad," he said, becoming suddenly
affable. Joe shook his head, and when Uncle Dock took two five dollar
bills from his pocket and offered them to the boys, one to Frank and
the other to Joe, they disclaimed any intention of accepting money for
what had plainly been their duty.
But no sooner had Uncle Dock extended the bills than the other man,
Kurt, gave a muffled exclamation and stepped forward. He snatched the
money from Uncle Dock's hands and quickly turned around, with his back
to the boys.
The interruption was only of about a second's duration, for Kurt at
once wheeled about and again extended the money. He gave a short,
nervous laugh.
"My mistake!" he said. "I thought he was only offering you a dollar
each. You deserve five. It's all right. Here--take it."
He thrust the money upon them but they refused. Kurt did not press the
point. He put the bills back in his own pocket.
"All right. If you won't, I suppose there's no use arguing," he said,
with evident relief. "But we're very grateful to you just the same.
Well, Dock, what say we get back to work?" he continued, turning to his
companion.
Uncle Dock turned away and went back into the mill with Kurt.
"It's plain they don't want _us_ hanging around," said Joe, with a
rueful glance at his clothes. "Let's go on up the river so I can throw
these clothes over a hickory limb and get 'em dried out before we start
back home."