Shirley Willing was a typical product of the little town of Paris,
Bourbon County, Kentucky; and at the time this story opens had just
passed her fifteenth year. She was the one child of Christopher Willing,
a prosperous farmer and horseman, who owned an extensive place on the
Bethlehem pike some three or four miles from the little city.
Being an only daughter, she was naturally somewhat spoiled, although she
and her father would have resented such an implication. Nevertheless,
spoiled she was, as all were aware except these two. Shirley was slight
and slender, with a wealth of auburn hair and cheeks like roses. All her
life she had been athletically inclined, and for the past two
years--ever since she had been attending the Blue Grass Seminary--she
had indulged in outdoor sports continually.
The Blue Grass Seminary was one of those schools in which the chief
object was to produce not only cultured and educated young women, but
physically perfect ones as well. While the course of study was on a par
with all first-class schools, the management did not believe that the
students should spend all their time over their books.
"Give the girls a practical education," was the theory of the principal,
and both he and his assistants endeavored in every way to enable the
girls under their care to practice in the open the theories taught in
the schoolroom.
Much time was also devoted to athletics in the Blue Grass Seminary, but
there were no hard and fast rules as to what branch of athletics each
pupil should take up. Shirley Willing's great hobby and chief diversion
was horseback riding. She was an expert horse-woman at fifteen and could
ride anything, as she had proved more than once.
Besides having a well-kept farm, Mr. Willing also owned a good "string"
of blooded race horses, and there was no novelty in one of them being
winner in many exciting races. It was this kind of horse that Shirley
most enjoyed riding.
Shirley's particular chum and bosom friend was Mabel Ashton, likewise
the daughter of a prosperous Kentuckian. Colonel Ashton was easily the
most prominent man in many respects in Bourbon County. Mabel, who was a
few months older than Shirley, was equally well known among the younger
set. The girls had been friends almost since they were babies, which was
only natural because of the close relationship between their families.
Another bond of sympathy between the girls was that both had lost their
mothers when a few months old.
When Shirley made up her mind that she would attend the Blue Grass
Seminary--located in a neighboring town some twenty miles away--there
was nothing more natural than that Mabel should decide to go also. At
first their fathers both opposed the plan, but after Mr. Willing and
Colonel Ashton had spent a day at the Seminary and had seen what an
excellent school it was, they were quite willing to let the girls
attend.
At the Seminary the girls had been roommates. Their closest friend was
Lois Geddis, the daughter of an Illinois farmer. Several times she had
gone home with Shirley to spend Sunday and had likewise spent her
Christmas vacation in Paris, upon the promise that the two girls should
visit her during the summer. Thus it was that we find these three Blue
Grass Seminary girls in such close proximity to the great Father of
Waters.
The Kentucky girls had been visiting in Illinois some two weeks when
this story opens, and it was now the latter part of June. They had only
intended to remain a week, but they had been having such a good time
that they had overstayed the stated period. Finally they had selected a
date upon which they should return and in spite of all influence that
could be brought to bear, they were not to be shaken in their purpose.
Then the flood came.
To account for Mabel's presence in the little house in which Shirley is
now sleeping, it is necessary to go back a little in our story.
It was about the time that the girls had set a date to go home that
heavy rains set in. The summer had been dry so far and the rain was very
welcome. But for days, now, the downpour had continued without any sign
of abating. From further up the river news was received of still heavier
rain, and these added to the regular June rise from the Missouri caused
the Mississippi at Cairo to spread until it threatened to leave its
bank.
A short distance above the home of Mr. Geddis, where the girls were
visiting, was a small tributary of the Mississippi on which was built a
great dam, forming an immense reservoir. This was known as the Darret
dam. At this point also, the river broadened into what seemed almost a
small bay in which the water was very deep, so that the volume back of
the dam was something enormous.
When it became apparent that there was to be no let-up in the steady
rains, and as the waters of the Mississippi continued to rise, Mr.
Geddis, as well as other farmers in the vicinity, moved all their
livestock and household effects to higher ground that they might be safe
should the dam give way; for it was a well-known fact that if the dam
burst, the valley would be flooded and everything carried away.
Guards were posted near the dam to give the warning, should it threaten
to burst. Vigil was kept day and night, while the residents of the
countryside were prepared to flee at the first warning of imminent
disaster.
But the dam had finally burst so suddenly that the warning came almost
too late. Shirley, Mabel, Lois, her father and mother were at supper
when the telephone jangled furiously. Lois, who was nearest, quickly put
the receiver to her ear, and then turned to the others with a cry:
"The dam is gone!"
Then it was that those in the farmhouse attempted to repeat the warning
down the valley, and it was discovered that the wires were down. As has
been told, it was then that Shirley made her wild dash, that might have
resulted fatally.
When Shirley had disappeared, the others, after seeking in vain for her,
had finally given it up as hopeless.
"She is probably safe some place," said Mr. Geddis. "Come, we must
hurry."
They started for the highlands, which they reached safely, and from
there watched the mountains of water as they swept down, flooding the
valley.
"I believe I know what has happened to Shirley," said Mabel quietly.
"What?" asked Lois, eagerly.
"I believe she went down the valley to warn the people."
Lois gave a startled cry.
"She will be drowned!" she cried.
"I'm not sure about that," said Mabel quietly. "You see, I know Shirley
a little better than you do. If there is one way by which she can reach
safety, Shirley is sure to find it."
"I do hope she will not be harmed," said Lois, beginning to cry.
Refugees fled to the highlands in droves, leaving everything behind. Mr.
Geddis and his party advanced, just on the edge of the high ground, down
the valley. Here they came upon others who had been forced to flee for
safety.
"How did the warning reach you?" asked Mr. Geddis of one of the men.
"Girl on horseback," was the reply. "She came dashing down the road like
wind. If it hadn't been for her, hundreds would have perished."
Mabel, who overheard this conversation, cried out in alarm:
"Where is she?"
"I don't know," was the reply. "She was headed straight for the
village."
Mabel seized Lois by the arm.
"Come," she cried, "let's go farther. Perhaps we can find Shirley."
With a word to her father, Lois followed her friend. They came, at last,
to a part of the ground directly behind the little village of Stanley,
now lying beneath the water. Here they plied the refugees with question
after question, and finally came upon the man who had seen the girl
wheel her horse and dash down the road after the Hendersons.
"There is not one chance in a thousand that she escaped," he said
slowly; "nor the Hendersons, either, for that matter."
The girls left him and continued on down the course of the raging water,
for they believed that Shirley might possibly have reached safety in
that direction.
It grew dusk, and still they walked on, scanning the nearby waters and
the ground closely. Night fell.
"Well, we might as well go back," said Mabel quietly. "I am afraid we
shall never see her again."
"I know we won't," said Lois, and fell to weeping.
"Come, come," said Mabel, throwing her arm about her friend's shoulders.
"Crying will do no good."
"But--but," sobbed Lois, "if it hadn't been for me she would be alive."
"How do you make that out?" asked Mabel, in some surprise.
"Why, she would not have come to this part of the country."
"Never mind," said Mabel. "Shirley wouldn't want you to feel badly about
it. I know that."
They turned and began to retrace their steps. It was then that Lois made
a startling discovery. They had unconsciously walked further and further
away from the water's edge, in among a grove of trees.
"We are lost!" cried Lois.
"Lost!" echoed Mabel.
"Yes. I don't know where we are. I have never been in these woods
before."
"Oh, I guess we'll get out all right," said Mabel confidently.
She moved forward, but in the darkness she had no means of telling
whether she was going in the right direction. The girls walked quickly
this way and that, but they could find no exit from the grove of trees.
Mabel raised her young voice in a cry for help, and Lois added hers to
it.
From the distance came a faint response.
Encouraged, the girls renewed their efforts, and keeping it up, were
finally rewarded by the sounds of footsteps coming toward them. A moment
later the figure of a man appeared before them.
"What on earth are you two girls doing here?" he asked in amazement.
"We are lost," stammered Lois, beginning to cry again, now that she felt
she was safe once more.
"Who are you?" asked the man.
The girls told him.
"And we want to get back to father," moaned Lois.
"Well," said the man, "you can't get back to-night. You have come
farther than you realize. My name is Thompson, and I have a shack
nearby. You shall both spend the night with us. Mrs. Thompson will make
you at home."
In spite of repeated requests by both girls that they be set on the road
home and assurances that they were not afraid to go alone, Thompson
shook his head negatively.
"You'll do as I say," he said. "I wouldn't allow a daughter of mine to
go prowling through the woods at this time of night. Come with me."
The girls were forced to obey, for they had no desire to be left in the
woods alone.
Mrs. Thompson made the girls comfortable, and showed them a bed in a
room at the rear of the house, on the ground floor.
It was while they were sitting talking, that they became aware of
clattering of hoofs. A moment later the door flew open and Shirley
staggered into the room. Both girls were on their feet in an instant.
"Shirley!" they cried, and rushed forward.
It was then that Shirley had fainted.