“Take care, Hugh, or he might get you!” warned Monkey, at the same time casting about for the duplicate of the cudgel the patrol leader had taken as a weapon of defense.
“Shoo!” cried Hugh, waving his arms vigorously as he approached the bushes.
As though that cry and the accompanying movement had broken the spell of silence there came a whole chorus of grunts both big and little. There was also a great scurrying of feet, together with squeals that could have but one meaning to the scouts.
“Pigs!” gasped Billy, as a mother sow followed by half a dozen little porkers started off in a panic, rushing pell-mell away, and followed by the mocking shouts of Monkey Stallings.
“So that’s your tiger, is it, Billy?” he demanded as he prepared to once more crawl into his coverings; “Well, you certainly have got the liveliest imagination of any fellow I ever met. The idea of taking a poor old mother hog with her litter of suckling pigs for a monster trying to carry you off.”
“Well, she did root under my blanket, I tell you,” Billy insisted; “and being waked up so suddenly, how could I tell the difference between a grunt and a growl? I only hope she stays away the rest of the night and lets a poor tired scout get his regular sleep.”
Apparently it would require much more than an occurrence of this sort to keep Billy wakeful. Inside of ten minutes Hugh could hear his regular breathing, from which he concluded the other was again off to the land of dreams.
The balance of the night passed without any further alarm. Perhaps Tip did not secure much sleep, and was the happiest fellow in the party to see the gray dawn coming in the east. Still, it had been a great experience for Tip, and one he would not soon forget.
All of the boys were soon up and doing. While two of them saw to it that the blankets and other coverings were returned to the launch, the others looked after the preparations for their morning meal which, thanks to the generous judge, would not be as primitive as it might have been.
After they had eaten breakfast, the start was made up the current. Monkey had been smart enough to fix some sort of tally so as to know how high the river rose while they slept.
“Just seven inches, fellows,” he had announced the first thing; and then, as the expedition was about to leave their moorings, Monkey declared with considerable delight: “Would you believe it, the water is actually going down! Sure it is, for here you can see where the stick is wet for an inch above the level!”
“Bully!” cried Tip. “Things will soon be on the mend, and poor old Lawrence will get back to looking like it was before the flood, all but our bridge, which is gone where the woodbine twineth.”
“Never mind about that,” said Billy, “so long as none of your folks went downstream with it.”
They found it slow work breasting the current, but then, as a rift appeared in the leaden clouds overhead, everyone was soon feeling greatly encouraged.
“There’s the judge waving to us!” said Tip, and of course everyone hastened to reply to the salutation from the high ground back of which the home of their good friend lay, safe from danger.
All through that day the scouts found plenty to do with the launch. And many a mother and father had reason to thank them warmly for attentions received that were doubly welcome in such a time of stress.
Hugh kept his word and saw to it that Tommy was safely returned to his family, thus relieving the fears of the father and mother, who had begun to believe the little fellow had been drowned.
As there still seemed to be no way of getting back home unless they went by aëroplane, Hugh and Billy and Monkey had to remain over for another day or so, nor did they feel sorry that this happened. Monkey had interested his uncle in his two chums so that nothing would do but they must be his guests while in town. Tip Lange felt somewhat disappointed for he had hoped to coax them to go home with him.
But on the second day word came that the repairs had progressed so far with the washed portions of the railroad embankment that a train would pass through Lawrence early that afternoon bound east.
It was at the station, as our three young friends, together with Tip Lange, Wash Bradford, Teddy McQuade, and Wallie Cramer, were waiting for the train to appear that quite a crowd of older people, as well as all the rest of the Boy Scouts in town surprised them. At the head of the delegation was the worthy Mayor of Lawrence. When Hugh saw them coming he began to show signs of uneasiness; but there was no place to which he could retreat, nor would the other fellows allow it.
And so he had to stand there and listen to as neat a flood of oratory as could be imagined, as the Mayor told him, and his two chums in the bargain, that they carried away from Lawrence the best wishes of all those who dwelt there.
“Your visit was in the nature of an inspiration,” the Mayor wound up with. “It has certainly put new life into our local troop of scouts. We owe you more than mere words can tell, and in leaving us we want you to know that you will never be forgotten. Your noble work here in the time of our tribulation will always stand as a living example of what Boy Scouts can accomplish when their hearts are in the cause.”
Fortunately the coming of the train allowed Hugh to escape without making a reply to this flood of praise that came straight from the heart of the speaker. And the last they saw of the Lawrence scouts they were lined up and giving their comrades from Oakvale the grand salute, with Tip Lange at their head.
Later on Hugh heard from the boys, and was delighted to know that the troop was flourishing like a green bay tree. There arrived at Hugh’s home a loving cup purchased by donations from scores of Lawrence citizens, and which was accompanied by a letter which might well cause the recipients to feel proud they had been given an opportunity to be of service to the victims of the Great Flood.
If you want to know what undertaking next employed the attention of these wide-awake Oakvale lads, read the succeeding volume, entitled: “The Boy Scouts of the Field Hospital.”
THE END.
Transcriber’s Notes
- Copyright notice provided as in the original—this e-text is public domain in the country of publication.
- Silently corrected palpable typos (including once exchanging the order of two entire lines); left non-standard spellings and dialect unchanged.
- In the text versions, delimited italics text in _underscores_ (the HTML version reproduces the font form of the printed book.)