Banner Boy Scouts on a Tour,

by George A. Warren

  CHAPTER XXIX

  A PANIC-STRICKEN CROWD

  "Oh! Help! help!"

  The cry reached Paul's ears between blasts of the howling wind; but henever could have caught it had he not been so close to the wretched boywho gave utterance to the appeal.

  With every nerve strained to the utmost, the young patrol leadercontinued to climb upward. He could see the tent flattened out like agreat pancake against the branches of the tree. It had opened as itswept along, and the force of the gale had for the time being turned itinto a sort of balloon. This accounted for the carrying away of Nuthin,who was a slender lad at best.

  Paul found more or less difficulty in reaching a point where he couldcome in contact with his comrade. Branches were in the way, and swayedback and forth in a furious fashion as fresh gusts of wind caught them.

  "I'm coming, Albert; hold out a little!" Paul shouted as he strained;and it was perhaps strange that in such a period of excitement heunconsciously used the real name of Cypher, something few people savehis parents and teachers did, when A. Cypher stood so handsomely forNuthin.

  One more desperate effort, and Paul, by stretching out his hand, foundhe could touch the other. Doubtless the contact sent a thrill of hopethrough the hanging scout.

  "How are you caught?" Paul called, as he managed to force himself stillnearer by hanging on to the branches with his other hand, and twistingboth legs around the same.

  "I think a piece of rope is wrapped around my body. Anyway it hurts likefun, and my arms seem all numb," he heard Nuthin reply.

  This sort of an explanation just fitted in with what Paul hadconjectured. He had found it hard to believe that Nuthin would be sofrightened as to cling desperately to the flying tent, when he knew thatit was being carried off by the gale. He must have been an involuntarypassenger of the airship that quickly ended its short flight in aneighboring tree.

  Fortunately Paul had his stout pocket knife with him. He never wentwithout it; and furthermore, it was his habit to keep all of the bladesvery sharp. If a knife is going to be worth a grain of salt it should besharp. Many a fellow has realized this with dismay when some situationhas confronted him calling for a keen blade, and has found his knifealmost worthless to solve the difficulty.

  Perhaps had he been asked later just how he managed to get that knifeout of his pocket, and the largest blade opened, Paul might have sometrouble in telling.

  The first thing he knew, he was again pushing himself inch by inchcloser to the boy who was hung up in the tree, and feeling for the ropethat held Nuthin fast.

  When, after a little, he had found it, Paul prepared to press the edgeof his knife against the same.

  "Oh! please hurry, Paul; I'm awfully afraid the tree will go down!" heheard Nuthin cry.

  But Paul had another problem to face. If he cut suddenly there would benothing to support the other, and Nuthin might have an ugly fall throughsmall branches that would scratch his face still more than it had beenalready cut.

  "Can you feel anything under your feet?" he asked, almost in the other'sear.

  "Yes, I've been standing on a small limb; but sometimes I slip off whenthat wind swings the tree so. I'm deathly sick, Paul, and dizzy. But oneof my hands is loose now. Tell me what to do, please," came backinstantly, as loud as Nuthin could speak.

  "That's good," declared Paul. "Feel around just above you. Can't youget hold of a branch or two, and hang on when I cut the rope? I want tokeep you from falling when the support goes."

  "Why, yes, I've got hold of one, Paul," answered Nuthin, who seemed tocatch a trifle of the other's coolness; "and my feet are on the onebelow, now."

  Paul dared not wait another second. He pressed the blade against therope, and with a determined movement severed the strands.

  Then, dropping his handy knife, he immediately threw his arm around thebody of Nuthin. Possibly the other might have managed to keep fromfalling; but still he was in a state of panic, and his muscles wereweakened by their recent confinement.

  "It's all right!" Paul shouted, when Nuthin gave utterance to a shriek:"I've got you safe! Now, try to work your way over here. Take it easy,and you'll make it, never fear."

  And Nuthin did. By degrees he seemed to gather courage, and was able tohelp himself. In times of stress there is nothing like confidence. Itcarries nearly everything before it, and brings victory where otherwisedefeat must have won the day.

  Presently Nuthin had reached the body of the tree, and was descending.There was really no need to urge him to haste, for he could not getdown to the ground a second too soon to satisfy his anxiety.

  They found the others awaiting them below, and Mr. Gordon caught Nuthinin his arms as if to express delight at his almost marvelous escape.What if no one had noticed the absence of Albert, and they had hurriedaway from the ruined camp, leaving him fast in the tree? He would havebeen in for a terrible experience, and in the end it might have resultedseriously for the boy.

  "Are you badly injured, Albert?" asked the instructor, as he drew theother on toward the point where the balance of the disrupted troopcrouched, trying to get out of the way of those furious bursts of wind.

  "Pretty sore, sir, but nothing serious, I reckon," came the reassuringanswer, which proved that Nuthin did, after all, possess a fair amountof pluck.

  When they arrived in the vicinity of the spot where the mess tent hadstood, the rest of the troop greeted their coming with a faint cheer. Ittakes a good deal to utterly discourage a bunch of healthy boys; andwhile things looked pretty bleak, still they made out to consider theadventure in the light of a joke. No one wished his companions to knowjust how badly frightened he really was.

  "Now we must get out of this," said Mr. Gordon, "and as we make our wayalong, try and keep together as much as you can. Pair off, and hold on,each to his mate. Ready?"

  In this manner, leaving Dobbin, the horse to his fate, they deserted thelate joyous camp, now lying a seeming wreck. Yet things were not as badas they might have been, thanks to their wisdom in cutting down thetents before more of them blew away.

  The crash of falling trees could still be heard with every renewedfurious blast. But just as Mr. Gordon had said, these sounds proceededalmost wholly from the lower region. That was the reason he declined toseek safety in that quarter, preferring to push in the teeth of theblow, because the rocky shelters were to be found there.

  They made but slow progress, but as time passed on they managed to gainsome distance from the open space of the late camp, where the littlehurricane had so free a sweep.

  As yet they had not been successful in discovering any sort of a refugeworthy of the name. The rocks were piled up all around them, and theyhad to do a great deal of clambering over obstacles in order to getalong; but so far as a cave went none had been found.

  Mr. Gordon knew that some of his charges must be perilously near thepoint of exhaustion. All the boys were not as robust and hardy as Pauland several others. He was becoming genuinely alarmed concerning them,knowing that unless shelter were quickly found they would be apt tofall.

  "We must change our tactics," he called out, finally; "and instead ofgoing on in a trailing line, spread out and cover more ground. If anyone finds a cave let him give the scout's shout of discovery!"

  After that they advanced more slowly, since it was really every one forhimself. Paul saw that the scoutmaster must have been right when hedeclared that they had not yet experienced the worst of the terribleSummer storm. It seemed to be getting slowly but surely more violent,and he wondered what amount of damage it would carry along the farms ofthe Bushkill, and the various towns and villages bordering its banks.

  Stumbling blindly at times, it was no wonder the boys had many a tumble.Hands were bruised and scratched, yet in the excitement little attentionwas paid to such trifling things.

  Several times Paul fancied that one of his mates had called out, andhope began to surge afresh through his heart. In every case, however, itproved to be a mistake, since no succeeding calls ann
ounced the gladfact that shelter had been discovered. He was forced to believe thatthe sounds he heard were only new exultant shrieks of the wind, as itswept along the side of old Rattlesnake Mountain.

  Jack was close at the side of his chum, and when the darkness preventedthem from actually seeing each other, they frequently caught hands, sothat they might not be separated.

  Whenever a little lull came in the storm the cheery voice of thescoutmaster was heard, encouraging his followers to hold out "just alittle longer." In this time of gloom Mr. Gordon endeared himself to thehearts of those soaked boys as he had never before done while the sunwas shining, and all seemed well.

  Paul realized that they were now plodding along over ground that wastotally unfamiliar to him. It gave him new hope that shortly one of theextended line might discover what they sought.

  And it was just when he was bolstering up his courage in this fashionthat he heard a sudden sharp cry from his chum. The lightning flashedout at that second and Paul looked eagerly toward the spot where he knewJack had been but a brief interval before. To his astonishment his chumhad utterly disappeared from view, as though the rocks had opened andswallowed him!