CHAPTER VII
THE SUBMERGED FARM-HOUSE
"Gee whiz! where is it, Toby?" cried Steve. "And none of us got a gunalong, worse luck. Hey, show me the sea serpent, and p'raps my cameraain't so wet but what I might crack off a picture of the same; becausenobody's ever going to believe you when you tell that yarn. Show me,Toby!"
Toby was only too willing to comply. He had always had a decidedweakness for collecting all sorts of wild animals, and that mightexplain why he displayed such extraordinary excitement now.
"There, right over past the end of the r-r-raft, where it s-s-sticks uplike a c-c-church spire!" he stuttered, pointing as he spoke. "Nowwatch everybody, when he pokes his old h-h-head up again. There, don'tyou s-s-see? And s-s-say, he seems to be s-s-swimmin' this way, don'the?"
Steve broke out into a yell.
"Why, bless your old timid soul, Toby, that isn't any snake at all,only one of those big wild-grape vines, like enough, that's ketched onto that floating tree trunk close by. She's all twisted and turned,and I reckon a fellow as crazy over wild animals and things, like youare, might be excused for thinkin' it was a regular sea serpent."
Bandy-legs too was showing amusement.
"Guess that's the way nearly all sea serpents are discovered," heremarked, trying to make it appear as though he had not been almost asexcited as Toby, when the other burst out so suddenly with hisannouncement.
"Well, we haven't lost any snakes," commented Max, "and so we won't tryto rescue that floating vine. We've had our turn at saving menageries,seems to me, enough for one season anyway."
What Max referred to was a series of remarkable adventures that came tothe four chums at a time when a storm blew down the tents belonging toa circus about to exhibit in Carson, and liberating many of the animalsconnected with the menagerie; but full particulars of this thrillingexperience have already been given in the volume preceding this, sothat further explanation would seem to be unnecessary here.
Toby did not make any reply. He rubbed his eyes pretty hard, as thoughwondering how they could have deceived him so strangely. But then afellow who was devoting so much of his thoughts to the mania forstrange pets in the shape of wild animals might be expected to seethings in a different light from his chums, who were not addicted tothat weakness.
"For one," said Bandy-legs, "I'm real glad it wasn't a snake, becausethey always give me the creeps, you remember, I hate 'em so. Justthink what a fine pickle we'd be in now if a monster anaconda or a bigboa constrictor or python, broke loose from a show, should climb up onour bridge boat, and start to chasin' us all overboard. Things lookbad enough as they are without our takin' on a bunch of new trouble.So, Toby, please don't glimpse anything else, and give us fits, willyou?"
Steve seemed to be intently watching the shore, especially whenever therevolving timbers brought them in a line with the western bank, becausethat was more familiar to the boys than the other, since Carson lay onthat side of the river toward the setting sun.
"I'm trying to make out where we are, Max," he explained, upon seeingthat the other was observing him curiously.
Bandy-legs uttered a loud and significant grunt.
"Say, Steve," he remarked with a touch of satire in his voice, "I cantell you that much, if you're all mixed up. We're squattin' on theremains of our bloomin' bridge, which used to cross the river in frontof Carson; yes-siree, and we seem to be takin' an unexpected voyagedownstream, without a port in sight. 'Water, water everywhere, and nota drop to drink,' as the ship-wrecked sailor used to sing; only we_could_ manage with this muddy stuff if we had to, because it ain'tsalty, you know."
"How far have we come, Max?" Steve continued, anxious to know, andpretending to pay no attention to Bandy-legs' humorous remarks.
"I'm trying to figure it out myself, Steve," admitted the other, whohad also been studying the shore line, though everything was so changedduring the high water that it was difficult to recognize land marksthat had previously been quite familiar to him; "and the best I canmake out is that we must be somewhere near Dixon's Point, where theriver makes that first sharp curve."
"And, Max, that's about fifteen miles below Carson, isn't it?" Steveadded, as he twisted his head the better to look down-stream again.
"Something like fifteen or sixteen, Steve."
"And if Asa French's place is twenty, we ought to strike in there rightsoon, hadn't we, Max?"
"Before ten minutes more, like as not," Max told him.
Steve drew in a long breath. He was undoubtedly wondering what theimmediate future had in store for them, and whether some strangefortune might not bring him in close touch with Bessie. He doubtlesshad been picturing this girl friend of his in all sorts of thrillingsituations, owing to the rapidly rising river, and always with some onethat looked suspiciously like Steve Dowdy rushing valiantly to therelief of the helpless ones.
Steve had once tried to play the hero part, and stopped what hebelieved was a runaway horse, with Bessie in the vehicle, only to haveher scornfully tell him to mind his own business after that, since hehad spoiled her plans for proving that their old family nag still hadconsiderable speed left in him.
Steve had never forgotten the scorn and sarcasm that marked the girl'sface and voice when she said that to him. It had come back to his mindmany times since that occasion; and he had kept aloof from all socialevents ever since, because he did not mean to be snubbed again. Andeven now, when he was picturing Bessie in real trouble, he kept tellinghimself that he meant to make sure she was surely in danger ofdrowning, or something like that, before he ventured to try and succorher. "Because," Steve told himself, "once bit, twice shy; and not if Iknow it will I ever give any girl the chance again to say I'm trying toshow off."
All the same his eyes seldom roved in any other quarter now butdown-stream, which was mute evidence that Steve was thinking aboutother peoples' troubles besides his own.
"We couldn't do anything to help move this old raft closer to shore,could we, Max?" Bandy-legs was suggesting.
"Hardly, though I'd like to first-rate," he was told; "but it's toocumbersome for us to move it, even if we pulled off some boards to useas paddles. So it looks as if we'd have to trust to luck to take us inthe right quarter for making our escape."
"Well, we can be ready, and if the chance comes, make the plunge,"Bandy-legs continued, "We're all so wringing wet as it is that if wehad to jump in and swim a piece it wouldn't hurt any. Just rememberthat I'm ready if the rest of you are. I'm not caring any too much forthis sort of a boat. It keeps on turning around too many times, like atub in a tub race, and you never know what minute you're going to bedumped out, if it takes a notion to kick up its heels and dive."
"Don't look a g-g-gift horse in the m-m-mouth, Bandy-legs!" advisedToby.
Steve was manifesting more and more restlessness.
"Max, you've been down this far before, I reckon, even if most all ourcamping trips were to the north and west of Carson?" he asked, turningto the leader.
"Yes, several times, to tell you the truth," admitted Max; "but withthe flood on, things look so different ashore that it's pretty hard totell where you are. Why do you ask me that, Steve?"
"Do you remember whether there's a bend about a mile or so above theFrench farm house?" continued Steve.
After reflecting for several seconds Max gave his answer.
"Yes, you're right, there is; and I should say it must lie about a mileor so this side of the place."
"I was trying to figure it all out," Steve told him, "and it's this wayit looks like to me. The current will sweep us across the river whenwe swing around that same bend, won't it?"
"Pretty far, for a fact, Steve, because it's apt to run the same wayeven if the river is far out of its regular channel now."
"Well, don't you see that's going to bring us pretty close to where theFrench house used to lie?" Steve remarked, inquiringly.
"Yes, it might, just as you say," Max replied; "but why do you speak ofit i
n that way--used to lie?"
"Because," said Steve, moodily, "I'm scared to think what might havehappened to that same house by now, and wondering if it's been sweptclean away; though it was a strongly built place, and ought to stand aheap of pounding before it went down."
"But even if it isn't in sight, Steve, that doesn't mean the girls havebeen carried away on the flood, or else drowned. Of course Asa Frenchwould be warned long enough ahead to hitch up his horses, and pull-outfor higher ground with everybody in his family. They're all right, thechances are ten to one that way."
Max said this for a purpose. He saw that Steve was feeling dreadfullyabout it, and knew the discovery would be doubly hard should they comeupon the place where the French farm house had stood, to find itmissing; and so he wanted to prepare the other chum against a shock.
"It's kind of you to say that, Max," Steve faltered, swallowing a lumpthat seemed to be choking him; "and I'm going to try and believe whatyou tell me. We ought to know the worst soon, now, because we're justabove that bend, and already I can see how the current sets in as swiftas anything toward the other shore."
All of them fell silent after that. They were watching the way thefloating timbers of the lost bridge were being steadily swept towardthe west shore, or rather where that bank had once been, because agreat sea of water now covered the fertile farmland for a distance of amile or so, to where the hills began.
Shack Beggs had recovered his usual ability to look after himself, andwhile he did not say anything, there was a look on his face that setMax to thinking, as he thrust the strap into the hand of his rescuer,as though he would have no further need of it, and disliked appearingweaker than the rest in that he had to be fastened to the railing.
Shack had just passed through a thrilling experience that was fated tomake a decided impression on his mind. He had hated these boys foryears, and done all he could to make life miserable for them; itremained to be seen whether there would be any material change in hishabits after this, or if he would forget his obligations to MaxHastings, and go right along as before.
Max would have pondered this matter, for it must have presentedexceedingly interesting features to a fellow like him; but there wasreally no time for considering such things now. They would have allthey could do to find a way to gain the shore, and cheat the flood ofits prey. Max could not forget that some twenty miles below where theywere now the river plunged over a high dam; and even in time of floodthis might prove to be their Waterloo, if they were prevented fromgetting on land before the broken bridge timbers reached thatobstruction.
"Now, look, everybody, because we're turning the bend!" Steve calledout, in his great excitement hardly knowing what he was saying.
Eagerly they strained their eyes. The strange craft swung around thebend, and continued to keep edging toward the west side of the river.A broad expanse of turgid water met their eyes, broken here and therewith a few objects such as treetops.
Once there had been numerous barns and out-buildings connected with theFrench farm, but everything had apparently been swept clean away savingthe house itself, and that still stood, although the flood was eventhen three quarters of the way up to the gutters of the roof, and mustbe exerting a tremendous pressure that could not much longer be baffled.
"Oh! it's still standing, Max!" shouted Steve, hoarsely; "who'd everthink it could have held out so long? I tell you that's a bully oldhouse, and built like a regular Gibraltar. But, Max, don't you glimpsesomething up there clinging to the roof? Somehow I don't seem able tosee as clear as I might; I don't know what's the matter with me."
But Max knew that Steve was blinking as fast as he could, to dry thetears that had come unbidden into his eyes under the excess of hisemotions.
"I honestly believe it's the girls!" he exclaimed, startled himself atmaking such a thrilling discovery.
Steve gave a cry of dismay.
"Whatever can they be doing up there; and where's Bessie's Uncle Asa,that he's left them all alone in the storm? Oh! Max, we've just gotto work over to the house and help them. Do you think we're headingthat way fast enough? Ain't there any way we could help the old raftto hurry up, and strike the house so we could climb up there? Well, ifthe worst comes I'm meaning to swim for it, current or no current."
"Wait and see!" cautioned Max; "I'm still thinking we'll swing farenough around to strike against the upper side of the house. I onlyhope the blow doesn't finish things, and topple the submerged buildingover."
This gave Steve something new to worry over. He started to shouting,and waving his hat vigorously, and received answering signals fromthose who were perched on the sloping roof of the farmhouse.
Doubtless the ones in peril may have been praying for rescuers to heavein sight, but certainly it could never have entered into their heads toconjure up such a strange way for assistance to come to them, in theshape of a raft composed of the timbers of the wrecked Carson bridge.
But so great had been their terror, when surrounded by those wild andrising waters, that no doubt they gladly welcomed the possibility ofhelp in any shape. Besides, the coming of those four husky andresourceful lads was a thing not to be despised. Though they may nothave owned a motorboat, or even a skiff, they had sturdy arms andactive brains, and would surely find some way to serve those who justthen seemed to be in great need of assistance.
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