The five of them started toward the approach of the bridge.
“There’s Wallie Cramer on the bridge; he’s one of our bunch, too. Shall I pull him along with us, Hugh?” remarked Tip Lange, as they drew near the structure.
“The more scouts you can get together, the better,” admitted the patrol leader.
“‘In union there is strength!’” quoted Billy wisely.
They pushed along the bridge, and were thrilled to find that it did actually tremble from time to time. Hugh also noticed that there was a slight swaying movement that was dreadfully suggestive.
“We can’t clear this old death trap any too soon, it strikes me,” stammered Teddy McQuade, “and I never was much of a swimmer anyhow.”
“That wouldn’t bother you any if so be you went over into that soup,” declared Wash Bradford, who himself looked a trifle “white about the gills,” as Billy would have expressed it, when gazing down at the foaming flood that swept just under the flooring of the bridge used for vehicles and foot passengers, and which was much lower than the railroad span.
Meanwhile Tip Lange had been hurriedly speaking with the fourth scout whom he called Wallie Cramer. Hugh rather liked his looks. He believed that once he understood what they had in view this new addition to their number was likely to prove a valuable ally. He seemed to have the appearance of a fellow possessed of nerve and “get there” qualities.
Apparently whatever Tip Lange told him in that minute of time must have aroused Wallie considerably; for he turned on the two Oakvale scouts and held out his hand to them without the formality of an introduction.
“Count on me to back you up, fellows,” was what Wallie Cramer said. “I was just thinking myself that we were silly to take chances on this tottering old bridge. People can be such fools. Shall we start yelling that it’s going to go out, and scare the bunch half to death? Any old thing ought to pass, so long as we accomplish our object. The end and not the means is what counts.”
“That’s pretty straight,” said Hugh, “but we’ll try to shoo them off first. If they won’t go in that way we might try the scare racket. Just as you say, some people have to be saved against their will.”
So the six boys in khaki continued on toward the opposite end of the bridge until they had passed the last spectator. A number gave them an idle look as if wondering who the two strange boys in khaki might be, since they did not recognize them as belonging to Lawrence.
“Now, close up, and form a solid line across the bridge!” called out Hugh, for the roar of the water whirling about the abutments sounded so loud that it was next to impossible to hear anything spoken in an ordinary tone.
Some of those who were enjoying the thrilling sight of the dizzy flood passing under the flooring of the bridge, on finding that they were being forced to vacate did so good-naturedly. Especially was this the case when they heard some of the scouts saying that the police had ordered the bridge vacated because it was liable to be carried away at any minute. Possibly these parties awakened to the risk they had been running, and doubtless would have continued to run only for the fact of the line of scouts grimly clearing the roadway, and allowing no one to remain.
Now and then some one grumbled and even threatened. At such times Hugh pushed up and gave the man, or boy, as the case might be, to understand that unless he complied with the order, an arrest would swiftly follow.
The concealed threat answered every time. Even a pugnacious fellow who had long been known as the bully of Lawrence, as Hugh afterward learned, on looking straight into that calm yet determined face of Hugh Hardin finally gave his head a little sneering flirt, and as he shuffled along was heard to mutter:
“Guess you ain’t no Lawrence scout, young feller. They ain’t built like you. But it’s so, an’ the old bridge is gettin’ mighty shaky. I’m a-goin’ because I want to, an’ not on ’count of bein’ told to skip out, see?”
Hugh was perfectly satisfied. Little he cared why people abandoned the dangerous span so long as they did do it. And when he reached the near side with his little company, and looking back could see that not a single man, woman, or child remained on the bridge, he felt that for once the scouts of Lawrence had accomplished something worth while.
“Now we must stand guard here, so as to keep it clear!” was what Hugh said to his little band, as they gathered in a group, the Lawrence fellows looking exceedingly proud, as though conscious of having done something worth while at last.
Hardly had they taken up their positions than the same town bully whom they had influenced to leave the threatened span, shoved up in front of Tip Lange.
“Hold on there, you can’t go back on the bridge, Tug Wilson!” the scout told him, as he blocked the way.
“Hang the luck, I tell ye I dropped my belt out there, an’ I jest got to git it. Step aside, Tip Lange, an’ let me pass!” the big overgrown bully said.
“Nobody is to be allowed to go on the bridge again, Tug!” urged the Lange boy.
At that the bully, not accustomed to having his actions questioned, and by a town boy at that, thrust Tip aside with half an effort, and in another instant was seen hurrying along the bridge. He even turned, and, looking back, put out his tongue in a fashion that spoke louder than words could have done concerning his feelings.
Billy Worth, always impulsive, was for dashing after him, and attempting to accomplish by force what words had failed to do.
“Come on, Tip. We’ll get him, all right!” he called out, when a hand was clapped on his shoulder and Hugh shouted in his ear:
“Don’t be foolish, Billy! If he chooses to take the chances that’s no reason you should follow suit. He may never come back again. Look, there is the floating tree coming down with a rush that we feared might strike the bridge and send it over!”
Billy stood in his tracks as though frozen. He realized in that instant how once more his impetuous nature had come close to getting him into a peck of trouble, as had happened on numerous past occasions.
Yes, there was a huge tree floating in the midst of a mass of wreckage, the whole making a terrible ram that, if brought suddenly against the already weakened bridge, must complete its downfall. And, apparently unaware of his danger, Tug Wilson was sauntering carelessly across the span, conscious only of the fact that hundreds of eyes must be centered on him just then.
Voices began to roar out at him. They were sending all sorts of warnings; but it might be that the boy took it for granted these were cheers because of the nerve he was exhibiting; for he never gave a single glance up-river way to where that monster floating tree and its attendant mass of wreckage was bearing down toward the tottering span of the bridge, with the force of a great battering ram.
“He’s crazy!”
“That’ll be the last of Tug Wilson!”
“Got just about one chance in three to skip back!”
These were some of the exclamations that broke from the boys whom energetic Hugh Hardin had gathered around him at the approach to the doomed bridge. Those fellows saw what a foolhardy thing it was the big bully of Lawrence had attempted.
The fact of the matter was that Tug had so long been accustomed to having his way through force that he could not brook opposition. He had been furious at himself for having yielded to the demands of these silly scouts while on the threatened structure; and tempted to defy their authority.
The sudden discovery connected with the loss of his belt had given him a cue; and with the result that he was now out there on the bridge, making his way toward the spot where he could see the object of his search lying on the planks.
Tug Wilson did not often find himself in the spotlight. Public opinion in Lawrence had almost invariably been heavily against him, because he was on the wrong side of every undertaking.
And so, when he realized that all those shouts and half cheers were intended for him, the boy became more reckless than ever. Instead of making as much haste as possible out to his belt, snatching the article up, and sprinting back to safety, he even slackened his pace.
That noisy applause was sweet music to his ears. He wanted to stretch it out just as long as he could. Measuring the distance the approaching floating tree had still to cover, Tug believed he would have time to accomplish his errand and even seconds to spare.
He meant to show those weak-kneed Boy Scouts that there were others who did not know the meaning of the word fear, even though they might not wear khaki suits, and boast of medals and badges galore.
“Hurry, Tug!”
“You’ve got to run, and run fast, old boy!”
Those were possibly some of his boon companions shouting at the top of their voices to him. Tug heard and took notice. He realized that they were genuinely alarmed for his safety. That would mean he might be risking too much; and so Tug did start to running at last.
Most of those who stood ten deep on the shore only knew the boy as a town nuisance, who had given them a great deal of trouble in times past; still just then they were forced to feel more or less admiration for his reckless daring. And so they shouted encouragement, as though they wanted to see him carry his desperate and foolhardy venture through to a successful termination.
The drifting mass was now very near. Many an anxious eye turned toward it, and mental calculations that were made gave the boy but scant time to return to safety before the crash must come.
Tug reached the spot where his belt lay. He made out to snatch it up, but, in his haste, managed to drop it again. Of course that only necessitated another movement, but it broke into the even tenor of his way.
Besides that, in thus bending he seemed to gauge the coming danger at a more acute angle than at any previous time. Hugh judged that something warned Tug he might have made a slight miscalculation that would cost him dear unless he mended his ways and increased his pace.
“Now he’s on the jump!”
“Go it, Tug; you’ve got to hump yourself, old man!”
They were shouting at him again, but if Tug heard he gave no evidence of the fact. He was keeping one eye turned toward the threatening danger, which was in truth the worst thing he could have done, as Hugh might have warned him, if given the chance.
Tug was running faster, probably, than he had ever done before in all his adventurous life. On previous occasions it may have been some angry farmer who was in pursuit of him as a trespasser, but now he was racing with death itself.
The realization of his foolishness must have pierced his heart, for, despite the violent exertions he was making, Hugh could see that his face was very white.
Hugh himself had taken several paces along the planks of the approach to the bridge. If any of his companions noticed the action at all, which is doubtful, as their attention was riveted on the running Tug, they could hardly have guessed what was passing through the mind of the patrol leader.
Suddenly a concerted groan burst from many lips. No cheer captain at a struggle on the gridiron between rival college teams could ever have produced such a concentrated expression of dismay.
What Hugh had been fearing had actually happened. Tug, foolishly dividing his attention between what lay before him and that oncoming mass of wreckage, had stubbed his toe on some projecting plank and been thrown heavily forward.
They heard the crash of his fall. There was a second or two given up to watching for him to scramble to his feet and continue his mad race. Then came another loud groan from the now awed crowd.
Tug never moved. He must have struck his head in falling and lost his senses. Apparently he was now doomed, if, as seemed probable, the mass of floating material about to come into collision with the weakened span carried the bridge down with it.
Then a faint cheer broke forth. It gathered headway, halted again, and after that kept on increasing until it seemed to dominate every other sound.
Billy Worth knew what had happened, for he had seen Hugh leave the spot he had been occupying. Like an arrow from the bow Hugh ran forward, his one design being to seize upon the senseless Tug, and in some way drag or carry him to safety before the bridge fell.
There was a gallant object in this bold attempt—that of saving life—whereas with Tug it had only been entered into so as to indulge in his willfulness and display contempt for authority of all kinds.
Billy held his breath. He was never so frightened in all his life. At first he was tempted to chase after Hugh, but the realization that he could give his chum no assistance whatever, chained him to the spot.
Now the cheering had ceased. Everyone seemed to be stricken with the same realization that it was ill-timed, and might serve to distract the attention of the intended rescuer. So it happens that in a desperately fought game on the diamond, or the football field, the mass of spectators will swing from loud acclaim to utter silence as if by magic.
They saw Hugh pick up the heavy figure of the senseless Tug. Why, the boy must be wonderfully strong to do that, or else given unnatural powers when facing such a desperate condition, the crowd probably thought.
Few of those who looked on believed the brave scout could ever get back in time to avert a catastrophe. Perhaps those who hoped for the best were pinning their faith to the fact that as yet it was not absolutely positive that the bridge would yield to the pressure of the impending collision.
It actually looked as though some unseen power had thrust out a hand to give Hugh the few additional seconds he required in order to make good. Some snag, that might have been a tree-trunk standing upright in the water, caught the oncoming mass and held it suspended for just a brief space of time. Then it overcame the obstacle to its progress and started once more toward the bridge.
That short truce was enough. It enabled Hugh to drag his burden to where eager hands seized upon them both. Thus they were drawn from the approach to the bridge, with every spectator shrieking his or her approval.
And, while this tumult was going on, the floating tree and its attendant mass of wreckage was seen to come against the middle of the endangered span. The entire fabric trembled, and gave way. There was a crash that thrilled every heart, a stupendous shudder, as of keen regret over parting from old and valued friends, and with that the bridge vanished into the maw of the flood.
Where it had stood now lay a horrid gap. Fragments projected from the opposite shore, telling where the bridge had once been anchored. And floating down-stream on the yellow torrents, were parts of the structure, intermingled with the wreckage that had been the means of its dissolution.
Hugh had sank to the ground out of breath as soon as he realized that he was safely off the endangered structure. Some of the scouts bore Tug Wilson away to the nearest house. The boy had had a close call, and everybody was talking about it.
“Who was that young chap?”
“He was a scout, you could see!”
“Must have been a stranger in Lawrence, then, because I know all our boys, and it wasn’t one of them!”
“The bravest thing I ever saw done, barring none!”
“He ought to get a silver medal for that, sure thing!”
Could Hugh have heard these and many other remarks that passed from mouth to mouth among the people on the river bank, he would have blushed with embarrassment. But Hugh was not giving one thought to anything of the sort. He had managed to recover his breath, and was once more on the move. This incident of the stricken bridge was now a thing of the past, and should not engage their attention any further. The present and the future had to be looked after; in other words, the “mill will never grind again with the water that is past.”
Hugh found that a great change had taken place in the scouts of Lawrence. They were now wide-awake and enthusiastic. Those shouts of acclaim had acted like magic to arouse them. All that was necessary now was for someone to tell them what to do; they needed a leader, and every boy would be found willing and eager to do his level best for the good of the stricken people of the flooded town and vicinity.
“What next, Hugh?”
“Show us something you think we ought to tackle!”
“We’re ready for any old job, it doesn’t matter how hard. We’re going to show the Lawrence people that scouts amount to something, after all!”
“Hurrah! you just bet we are, fellows!”
Hugh allowed this enthusiasm to grow spontaneously for a bit. He knew it would assume additional strength, if not nipped too soon. When he considered that the right time had arrived to strike he gathered the little knot of boys about him.
“Then the first thing to be done,” was what Hugh said, “is to get as many scouts together as we can. Scatter around the town, and wherever you can lay hold of a fellow who belongs to your crowd, fetch him here. We’ll need all we can get to try out the many things there are waiting for us to tackle. Will you do this, fellows?”
They would have promised him anything just then, for Hugh had taken the entire lot by storm. They greatly admired the way in which he had dashed out to save the foolish Tug Wilson, who was accounted the worst boy in town; and Hugh had been aware of that fact at the time, which in itself impressed Tip and Wash and the other local scouts as all the more remarkable.
So there was an immediate scattering, and the only one left alongside Hugh was his faithful chum, Billy Worth. That worthy was surveying Hugh earnestly, and nodding his head again and again in approval, as he muttered to himself:
“I just knew it would happen that way. I knew it would be the luckiest day Lawrence ever saw when you struck town, Hugh Hardin. And, my word for it, they’ll never forget the handsome way you yanked that loafer of a Tug Wilson off that bridge. Once more the honors go to the good old Wolf Patrol, to which I’m proud to say I, too, belong!”
While waiting there for the return of the envoys sent out to drum up recruits for the rescue squad, Hugh noticed that there was considerable excitement down at the edge of the water.
“Let’s see what’s doing over yonder, Billy,” he remarked.
“I was watching that bunch,” the other scout replied. “As near as I can tell, they’re marking the stage of the water. If only the river got stationary, or began to fall, it’d mean a whole lot to the people of Lawrence, not to mention all the farmers up the valley Tip was telling us about.”
“It must look pretty blue, then,” observed Hugh, as they advanced toward the spot, “because nobody seems to want to give even a whisper of a cheer.”
When they pushed into the crowd they found that an old inhabitant had taken it upon himself to keep “tabs” of the rise of the waters. Perhaps this had been a hobby of the old fellow’s for years, and he was looked on as a sort of authority when any reference was made to past floods.
Some of the people must have recognized in Hugh the boy who had so lately performed that gallant act. They nudged one another, and exchanged low remarks.
“He looks like a brave one, sure enough. Just the sort of chap to carry out a rescue. I’d warrant you now that he’s done the same several times—snatching boys out of holes in the ice, or getting them ashore when they’ve been taken with cramps in swimming!”
“And they say it was him started the movement to chase everybody off the bridge. Only for that there might have been some gone down with it!”
“I asked Tip Lange who he was, and he said it was a boy named Hugh Hardy, or something like that, from over in Oakvale.”
“It would be a good thing for Lawrence if he came here to live. I never felt so much like kissing a boy in all my life as when I saw him drag that foolish Tug Wilson off the dreadful bridge. I only wish my nephew was built like that brave boy.”
It was perhaps fortunate that Hugh did not hear the old maid say this, or even catch the remarks exchanged between the others. He had managed to reach the side of the white-haired old man who was bending over a marked stick which he had fastened to a post that stood deep in the yellow water.
“What do the marks show, sir?” asked Hugh.
The old man glanced up at him. Perhaps he, too, suspected that this manly looking young chap in the khaki suit and with the raincoat over his arm was the same boy who had so recently performed that gallant deed. At any rate he replied without the least hesitation:
“Now a foot and two inches above the highest record made in forty years. I know, because I’ve been keeping tally that long.”
“But how fast is it rising now?” continued Hugh.
“At a terribly rapid pace, I am sorry to tell you. In the last hour it has come up almost a foot. There will be great woe and desolation all through the valley. I feel sorry for the people living further away from Lawrence. It is bad enough here; but we are a community, and no one need suffer while others are able to lend a helping hand. But the isolated farmers and the little hamlets will be in desperate straits.”
It did the old veteran’s heart credit, this concern for others. Hugh, too, was thinking of those who had no one to lean upon. He wished some means could be found whereby he could start out on the flood that ran for many miles back up the valley, so as to rescue those helpless ones caught in the sea of raging waters.
Once again he and Billy went back to the place where they had promised to wait for the coming of the local scouts. All the while Hugh’s active brain was trying to lay plans, although until he knew just what the nature of their resources might be it was next to impossible to settle on these definitely.
“There comes Tip!” exclaimed Billy, who had evidently been keeping a watchful lookout all the while.
“And he’s got two others with him, I notice,” added the patrol leader. “Strikes me we haven’t run across either of them before, Billy.”
“They’re new ones to me, all right, which shows that Tip is all to the good, and has done his part. If the rest can double up, we’ll have a fair-sized bunch to hustle things some.”
Tip pushed toward them. He must have been telling his companions a lot about Hugh as they came along, for the eyes of the two boys were glued upon the stranger continually, and they shook hands at being hurriedly introduced as though proud of the privilege of knowing this energetic comrade from another town.
“There’s Wash coming, and he’s got the Smith twins with him, all right!” Tip remarked immediately afterward. “That means four recruits, and more to hear from. We ought to scare up some sixteen or twenty fellows, I should think. Used to have more’n three full patrols in this old town; but things got so bad there were only seven at the last meeting, and some of them even said they’d be hanged if they’d bother coming out to such a dull affair again.”
Others of the local scouts now began to heave in sight. Those who had started forth with the intention of rounding up others had certainly exerted themselves to the limit; for there was hardly a single fellow who failed to bring back one new addition to the rescue squad.
They had managed to enthuse the others to a considerable extent, too, in some way or other. Possibly that thrilling event of the bridge had served them all for the purpose.
When Tip announced that the last scout who had been sent out was now back, and that they had their full quota on deck, Hugh counted noses.
“Seventeen of us, all told, fellows!” he declared. “It strikes me that ought to be enough to do a heap of work. Over in Oakvale we’ve managed to get there when we couldn’t count on more than half this number to do things. It depends pretty much on the vim you put into your labor.”
“Tell us what we ought to tackle first, and then see us dig!” one of the newer arrivals called out.
The spirit was spreading fast, just as a trace of yeast placed in a lump of dough soon impregnates the entire batch. Those boys who helped Hugh and Billy clear the bridge realized how sweet it was to be possessed of a little authority. Somehow, people had seemed to respect them, possibly for the first time. And then that brave act of Hugh Hardin had won such golden opinions from the citizens that it was hoped they would cover the whole scout movement as with a blanket.
“I want to tell you, fellows,” Hugh continued impressively, “there’s going to be a plenty to do for all of us—perhaps much more than we can manage—before this flood goes down again. You’ve got a glorious chance to make good. There never was such a splendid one for any scouts that I ever heard about. It’s up to you to take advantage of it; and if you seize the opportunity you can depend on it, after it’s all over, scout reputation will have soared to top notch in Lawrence.”
“Hurrah!”
“Good for you, Hugh! That’s the stuff we want to hear!”
“They’ll be taking off their hats to you, fellows,” Hugh told them in his impressive way, “and there isn’t anything within reason you might ask for but what the people of this burg would give it to you!
“Our chance has surely come, boys! Let’s be like the busy little bee, and improve each shining hour, only there’s nothing shining under that dark sky.”
“Would you mind if I said a few words to our fellows, Hugh?” asked Tip Lange, who, although he had not mentioned the fact to his new-found friends, must have been in some position of authority in the now nearly defunct Boy Scout Troop of Lawrence.
“Talk as much as you want to, Tip,” replied the other, “only we must organize our work on a systematic basis soon.”
Thereupon Tip waved his arms until all the fellows had clustered around him. He had stepped on a box that happened to be lying nearby. It looked as though some labor agitator might be about to “spout,” and try to get the honest workers to go out on a strike.
“Boys,” began Tip, in his most impressive tone, “this comrade from Oakvale has had a heap of experience in building up a scout troop. Some of us have read about what they’ve done over in his town, and let me tell you it all reflects great credit on Hugh Hardin, assistant scout master.”
“Hear! hear!”
“Good for you, Tip; he sure deserves all that and more.”
“Keep still and let Tip do the talking; he’s got something he wants to tell us, don’t you understand?”
Again Tip started in after these remarks had ceased.
“It’s a bit of good fortune that brought Hugh Hardin and his chum Billy Worth to Lawrence just at this time. Only for what he did at the bridge there might have been a considerable loss of life, for some of those fools would have stayed out there till it was too late to get off. That’s a fair sample of the way Hugh Hardin does things. And, fellows, we want him to show us how. You can’t see his wings, but all the same I reckon that he’s the good angel that’s been sent here to help us out of the pit we’ve been wallowin’ in so long.”
Some of the boys must have considered that Tip was waxing eloquent in delivering this harangue, for they insisted on giving him a hearty cheer. When the noise had again subsided, the orator continued, evidently fully in sympathy with his subject, because he had taken a violent liking for Hugh.
“Now, I want you to make me a promise, fellows,” continued Tip. “It’s only right and fair that if Hugh stands by us and does all he can to land the Lawrence Troop back in the place it once occupied that we ought to carry out his orders as unhesitatingly as if he were at the head of our troop. Isn’t that right?”
The answer was unanimous, and given with a roar of approval that left no doubt in Hugh’s mind about the ability of these Lawrence scouts to attain their goal if once they could be given a fair start.
“All right,” said Tip. “That sounds good to me. Now, every fellow who faithfully promises to look up to Hugh Hardin as our temporary scout master, and to obey his commands as such, upon his honor as a scout, raise his right hand!”
He looked around, and seemingly counted the hands that went aloft.
“Fourteen, which, with my own, covers every Lawrence scout present. That makes it unanimous. I therefore introduce Hugh Hardin to the boys of this town as the temporary scout master of the troop. And now, Hugh, you take things in hand. No yelling, fellows; we’ve got too serious business in hand to waste our breath that way. Set your jaws together like you meant to ride roughshod over every obstacle. That’s the way things are done, I take it.”
Hugh was entirely satisfied. All preliminaries having now been arranged, he felt that they could “get down to brass tacks,” as Billy called it, without further delay.
“I’ve noticed, to begin with,” he remarked to the eager scouts who clustered around him, “that the lower part of the town is already being submerged. There are poor people there who will lose everything unless some one helps them ferry their bedding and clothes and such things as the water would ruin to higher ground. Now, I’m going to lay you all off in batches so you can work better in company.”
He thereupon picked out three boys who were to be in charge of Wash Bradford, and another lot whom Teddy McQuade would boss.
“Get hold of any rowboats you can,” Hugh told them. “If that’s impossible make a strong raft that can be pushed with poles. Then go down in the part of town that is under water and do all you can to rescue people and save their stuff for them. In that way there will be many to look upon the garb of a scout as a badge of honor, and always to be considered a mark for their respect. And keep working as long as you can stand it. There’ll be plenty for all of us to do, never fear.”
That took about half of their number, or eight in all. The two detachments hurried away, conferring as to the best means for carrying out the part of Hugh’s scheme entrusted to their charge.
One of the parties managed to get hold of a large rowboat in some fashion. It may have leaked to some extent, but scouts would know how to make temporary repairs, and with this boat they were in a position to move around and do considerable in the way of helping those who had been caught by the rising waters in the homes they had hesitated about deserting to the mercy of the flood.
The other boys were compelled to resort to a raft; but Teddy McQuade proved to be a clever manager, once his energies had been fully aroused; and he remembered where there would be plenty of just the kind of pine boards they would need for a dandy raft. Nails and a hatchet were procured, also some stout clothes lines to serve as a check should the current prove too strong for their clumsy means of passage along the main street that was now five feet deep in water.
Of course, Hugh did not intend to waste any time in seeing how these two detachments carried out their orders. He had other work to do. There were still nine of them remaining. These he divided up into three groups consisting of the same number of members. Tip Lange and Billy he kept along with him; for he had a plan in his mind that he meant to try and put into execution later on.
When the other six had also been dispatched to start on the work of accomplishing such things as they could find to do for the unfortunates, Hugh turned to Tip.
“How about that boat you said you could get for us, Tip?”
“Come right along, and I’ll try and make good. I had a ride on the same only last summer, and if only we c’n get the owner’s consent to loan her to us, we ought to be able to do a heap of rescue work. He’s some cranky, though, and mightn’t just like to let three boys handle the launch.”
“Hello! that sounds cheery to me!” exclaimed Billy, who had not known anything about this before. “A motorboat would be able to get around in this flood all right, I should think, provided it kept away from that nasty current of the river. Lead us to the man who owns such a craft. That’s kind of you, Tip.”
The Lawrence boy hurried away, with his two new friends tagging at his heels. Dodging in and out of the crowds that were hastening this way and that, all terribly excited and wrought up by the prospects of the flood taking a fearful toll of property if not human lives, they came after a while to where a cottage stood, with its grounds running down toward the river.
“There’s the boathouse, yonder,” called Tip over his shoulder. “Mr. Sperry was smart enough to have it a floating one, so all he has to do now is to keep changing the ropes that hold it.”
“I hear some one working with the engine of the launch, seems to me,” remarked Billy, whose hearing was very acute when he was excited and anxious.
“Yes, but I just glimpsed Mr. Sperry himself looking out of the window,” said Tip Lange, as if to explain why he did not intend to alter their course and head toward the floating boathouse. “He’s a lame man, and can’t get around much afoot, so he has an automobile and a launch to take him. Come along in with me, fellows.”
There was indeed a mud-splashed motorcar at the gate as the three lads passed through.
“That’s his runabout,” commented Tip. “Like’s not he’s been down where the crowd gathered to hear the latest news. I wonder, now, if he saw the bridge go out, and how you got Tug Wilson safe ashore, Hugh.”
He had hardly knocked on the door when it was opened. Mr. Sperry was a man with a red beard, and walked with a crutch and a cane. Hugh remembered having seen him in the crowd; for that useful training as a scout to notice things and impress them on his memory, whether they seemed worth while or not at the time, was serving the boy another good turn.
Tip quickly announced the reason for their hurried call. He introduced his two companions, and the lame man’s eye kindled as he looked at Hugh.
“Why, to be sure, I’d like to do anything I could to accommodate so brave a lad,” he said breezily, as he laid a hand affectionately on Hugh’s shoulder. “I saw what you did down at the bridge; and the people of Lawrence have good reason to be glad you happened to be marooned here. But about my boat, I’m sorry to disappoint you. I’ve already promised it to my nephew who’s visiting us; he was sick abed, but insisted on getting out to do something. He’s down there at the boathouse now. You might ask him to let you go along.”
This was a bitter disappointment. Still, it might be worse, and the three boys started in the direction of the boathouse, Billy muttering as he went:
“Playing second fiddle isn’t according to my liking, as a rule; but we’ll see what we’ll see. Mebbe we might coax him to give up the ship, or else toss him overboard!”
“Do you know this nephew of Mr. Sperry, and is he a decent sort of fellow?” asked Hugh of Tip Lange, as the three of them started down the slope toward where the floating boathouse was moored to a tree, having long since been pushed far back of its original landing.
“Never knew he had a nephew,” replied the other over his shoulder. “I reckon he must have come from some other town, and is only visiting here. But he would be a poor sport if he wouldn’t ask us to get aboard and help out. Come on, we’ll soon know what’s what!”
They pushed in through the open door of the boathouse. The first thing Billy saw was that the boy bending over, doing some oiling apparently to the engine of the launch, wore a faded suit of khaki. He felt like giving a cheer, his sense of relief was so great. Instead he simply clutched Hugh by the arm and pointed.
Hugh nodded his head. They could not see the boy’s face, but the sight of that uniform was certainly pleasant to the patrol leader. He seemed to feel a sudden surety that the one who wore it must have subscribed to the rules by which all scouts are governed, and if so he could not well refuse to accept them as comrades in arms.
Tip Lange coughed loudly, which, of course, was intended to let Mr. Sperry’s nephew know of their presence. At that the stooping boy raised his head to look.
Hugh could hardly believe his eyes. As for Billy Worth, he let out a wild whoop.
“Why, what’s this?” he cried. “It sure looks like our chum, Monkey Stallings. Hey! are you Mr. Sperry’s nephew? Well, if this doesn’t beat the Dutch!”
The boy whom Billy called by such a queer name, and who also answered to that of Eben when at home or in school, was in fact an Oakvale scout, and a member of the Fox Patrol. He had only been in Oakvale a comparatively short time, but being full of enthusiasm had managed to work his way up to the grade of a second-class scout.
He came by his absurd title honestly enough; indeed his comrades could not have dubbed him by any fairer nickname than that of “Monkey,” for he was a regular athlete, and could do all manner of wonderful stunts, from turning flip-flops to hanging by his toes from the limbs of trees, walking a tight rope, and in fact everything that a circus star of the sawdust ring could do.
“What! you here in Lawrence, Hugh; and Billy, too?” he burst out, apparently as much astonished at seeing them as they had felt at sight of him.
“I came here on some business with a lawyer for my folks, and Billy wanted to keep me company,” explained Hugh. “When the trains were abandoned we found we had to stay over, so here we are. But I had no idea you had left Oakvale, Monkey.”
“I only had time to catch the train after my ma asked me to come up and visit Uncle Henry for the Easter holidays, as he always thought a heap of me when we all used to live up in Maine. Then, hang the luck! I hardly got here before I ate something that doubled me up like a jackknife, and I’ve been sick ever since. But when he came back a little while ago and told me how terrible things were getting, I made up my mind I was going to take the launch out and see if I couldn’t help some poor folks save their stuff.”
“That’s just what brought us here,” declared Tip Lange, who had witnessed this meeting of chums with evident delight, since it smoothed away all their difficulties like magic.
“And we’re going off with you to assist in the good work, hear that, Monkey?” asserted Billy, with the manner of a dictator who would not take no for an answer.
“Sure thing!” sang out the Stallings boy, with a happy grin. “Say, having our assistant scout master along is going to take a load of responsibility off my poor shoulders, don’t you forget it.”
“How is the engine?” asked Hugh, without noticing the compliment, although Tip Lange looked toward Billy and nodded his head as much as to say: “I see he’s held in just as high esteem at home as he will be here in Lawrence, when people stop to think of all he’s done for the place.”
“Seems to be in apple-pie shape,” replied Monkey Stallings promptly. “I was just giving her a little more oil when you came. Uncle keeps her up to the scratch all the time. He’d make a good scout, because he’s so particular about doing things the very best he knows how. But say, what about this he was telling me of some stranger in town who wore scout duds snatching a boy off the bridge when it was just in the act of being swept away by a driftwood pack!”
Billy chuckled aloud.
“Can’t you guess, Monkey?” he demanded, with a knowing wink.
At that the Stallings boy gave a shout.
“Then it was some of Hugh’s work, was it?” he exclaimed. “I might have guessed as much. I thought it smacked of the Wolf Patrol way. Some other time you’ve got to tell me all about it, Billy, won’t you?”
“I promise you, Monkey,” replied the other, as he clambered aboard the launch, and then looking about him continued: “Seems to me this boat ought to hold quite a raft of people if pushed. It’s the boss thing for the work we’re going to start out on now.”