CHAPTER XVII—THE FUGITIVES OF THE LEVEE
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.”