It was no easy task for the Rovers to make their way over the wet rocks, covered here and there with slippery grass and weeds. More than once one or another went down, and Fred gave his left elbow a bump, while his cousin Andy received a scraping of the shins.
Fortunately, the downpour of rain was abating, so that they had a chance to dash the water from their caps and faces and see better what they were trying to do. They soon reached the last of the rocks jutting out from the shore, and here the four came again to a halt to view the situation.
“There is no help for it—we’ve got to jump right in and trust to luck to reach the other side,” said Jack.
“Let us take hold of hands. Maybe we can brace ourselves better,” suggested Randy.
This plan was carried out, and a moment later found the four cadets in water up to their knees. So swift was the current they had all they could do to keep their feet, and Andy would have gone down had not his brother and Fred held him up.
It was lucky for the lads that they had chosen a spot where the stream was rather broad and shallow, widening out on the side opposite to the rocky bluff. Nevertheless, at one point they found themselves in water up to their waists, and here they had to struggle with might and main to keep from being swept down to where the man and the boy were held prisoners.
“Say, this is awful!” gasped Fred, when he at last found himself on a safer footing.
“This river is running like a mill-race,” was Randy’s comment.
When they had reached a spot where the water was less than a foot deep they stopped once more to regain their breath, and then, led by Jack, moved cautiously down the river to the point where was located the drifting tree the man had mentioned.
“Just see if you can’t pull it toward the shore,” directed the man. “But be careful that you don’t get hit when it swings around.”
It was now that the young cadets’ lessons in bridge building while in camp came into good play. Jack gave orders as to just how the swinging around of the tree might be managed. Then all took hold and pulled with might and main.
“I don’t see that it has budged any,” gasped Fred, after half a minute of the hardest kind of effort.
“Try it again, boys!” shouted Jack encouragingly. “Now then—all together! One—two—three!”
Again the four sturdy boys exerted all their strength on the tree, and this time they felt the lower end, which had been wedged in between some logs and rocks, give way. Then, as they hauled the tree still farther from the center of the river, it suddenly swung around and, caught by the current, went dashing along on its course.
“Hurrah! There she goes!” shouted Randy, as the tree disappeared in a veil of foam and spray.
“How about it?” shouted Jack to the man and boy. “Can you get loose now?”
Both of the prisoners were exerting their utmost to release themselves and did not answer. But their efforts were in vain, and soon they ceased to struggle.
“It’s no use! One of the logs is holding our feet right against the rocks!” gasped out the man. “We don’t seem to be able to budge it.”
“I’m afraid it is going to break my leg!” screamed the boy. “I can’t stand the pressure much longer.”
“I’m going out there and see what I can do,” said Jack.
“If you go, so will I,” returned Randy promptly.
“You can count me in, too,” announced Andy and Fred simultaneously.
“Look out that you don’t get drowned,” went on Jack quickly.
“We’ll be as safe as you’ll be,” returned Fred.
All went up the river a short distance so that they might not be carried past the spot where the man and the boy were located. Then they struck out bravely for the place where the logs were jammed in a heap. Some of the sticks seemed to have been cut for railroad ties, while others looked like fence rails, and there were not less than two dozen of them in a jumble among the jagged rocks.
In a few seconds the cadets found themselves in this jam with the furious current of the river trying to sweep them to one side or the other. But they held fast, and as rapidly as possible loosened one log or rail after another.
“Look out there!” yelled Andy presently, and all heeded his warning. Then several of the logs bobbed up and went flying down the river.
This released the log holding the man and the boy, and the pair came up spluttering.
“Do you think you can swim ashore?” questioned Jack.
“I guess I can make it,” answered the man somewhat weakly. “Look after my kid, will you?”
“We sure will!” answered Jack.
With Fred and Andy beside him, the man struck out for the shore, and all were soon carried down the stream and under the rocky bluff. In the meanwhile, Jack and Randy did what they could to aid the boy, and then followed the others.
The swiftly flowing current of the Rick Rack carried the entire party well past the overhanging rocks and then onward to a point where the river widened considerably. Here they managed to get a footing.
“Thank fortune we are out of that!” exclaimed Fred, as he and the others made their way over the sand and rocks and through the bushes to where there was a grassy slope backed up by a number of trees.
“It was a mighty close shave for me and my kid,” returned the man. “I thought sure at one time we would be drowned.”
“And we would have been if it hadn’t been for these fellows coming to save us,” added the boy gratefully, and he shot an admiring glance at the four dripping cadets.
“Are you soldier boys?” questioned the man, as the whole party gathered under the shelter of a tree. By this time the rain was nothing more than a fine drizzle.
“Not exactly,” answered Jack. “We are cadets attending Colby Hall Military Academy.”
“Oh, yes, I’ve heard about that school,” said the man. “They tell me it’s a very fine place. Well, all I’ve got to say is, if all the boys there are as brave as you lads you certainly must have a bang-up crowd,” and he smiled broadly. Then he clapped Jack on his shoulder. “I thank you from the bottom of my heart for what you did for us. It was a nervy thing to do—to risk your lives in that river. I shall never forget it. If I were a rich man I’d want to reward you, but I must admit I’m just about as poor as they make ‘em.”
“We don’t want any reward,” answered Jack. “I’m glad to be of service to you.”
“I guess we’re all glad,” added Randy, and the others nodded.
Then the young cadets introduced themselves and the man and the boy did the same. The man said his name was John Franklin.
“This is my son Phil,” he added. “We don’t belong around here—that is, not exactly. You see, I used to own a farm which was mostly in Texas and partly in Oklahoma, a pretty big farm, though it wasn’t very productive. Some oil sharpers came along and made a sort of three-cornered deal, the particulars of which I need not give you, but as a consequence almost before I knew it I was done out of my farm and had next to no money in my pocket. Then I came up here expecting to see some friends who might help me in fighting those rascals, but the friends had moved away, and nobody knew where to, so I was almost stranded. Then Phil and I got work up in the woods, cutting timber and doing other odd jobs, and we had steady employment until this rainy season set in.”
“So you came all the way from Texas, did you?” said Randy to Phil Franklin, with a smile. “It’s a pretty long distance.”
“Oh, we got sick of it down there after dad was done out of his farm by those oil sharpers,” answered Phil Franklin.
“Did they find oil on your farm?” questioned Fred.
“No. That is, they hadn’t up to the time we left. You know it takes a lot of time and money to sink an oil well. But they did us out of our farm, and that’s bad enough.”
“Some day, if I ever g
et on my feet again, I’m going back to Texas and have it out with those rascals,” announced John Franklin. “They claimed that their dealings with me were perfectly legal, but I don’t look at it that way. However, boys, that affair has nothing to do with you. As I said before, I wish I could reward you, but all I can do is to give you my very best thanks.”
“And you can bet I’m thankful, too!” added Phil Franklin earnestly.
“Isn’t it rather strange that you should be up here in such a storm as this?” questioned the man from Texas.
“We got tired of staying indoors on account of the rain,” answered Jack; “so when it seemed to break away we thought we saw a chance to take a hike just for the fun of it.”
“And now we’re glad we did take a hike,” put in Randy.
“We were trying to cross the stream by the aid of a rope,” explained John Franklin. “The rope broke, and Phil was swept down the stream and I went after him to make sure that he didn’t get drowned. Then we got mixed up in the logs and the tree, and you know the rest.”
“You say you belong up the river?” questioned Andy.
“Yes. We’ve been stopping at Bossard’s camp. I suppose we ought to be getting back there now, or he’ll be wondering what has become of us. Besides that, we’ll want some dry clothing. And you fellows will want some dry clothing, too. Otherwise you might catch cold.”
“Yes, we’ll hike back to the school as fast as possible,” answered Jack. He held out his hand. “Good-bye to you, and good luck.”
“You won’t mind if I come down to see you some time, will you?” questioned the man. “I want your teachers to know how brave you have been.”
“Come down, by all means,” answered Jack. “But don’t pile on the bravery stuff, please. We did only what any healthy young fellows would do.”
“I don’t know about that. I guess I know real heroes when I see ‘em,” answered John Franklin, with a grin.
“I’d like to see you fellows drill. It must be great,” put in his son Phil.
“Come down any time and ask for us,” answered Fred. He was rather taken by Phil Franklin’s open manner.
A few words more passed, and then the Franklins hurried up the river in the direction of the lumber camp from which they had come. Then the Rovers turned in the direction of Colby Hall.
“I’m glad we went to the rescue,” remarked Andy, when on the way. “They seem a pretty decent sort.”
“All the way from Texas,” mused his twin. “That’s certainly some distance.”
As the Rovers hurried to the Hall they talked the matter of the rescue over in all of its details.
“It was certainly a queer meeting,” was Fred’s comment. But little did he or his cousins dream of the still queerer meeting with the Franklins that was to come in the future.
CHAPTER IV
IN THE GYMNASIUM
“Company attention! Carry arms! Present arms! Shoulder arms! Forward march!”
Captain Jack Rover, assisted by Lieutenant Fred Rover and his other officers, was drilling Company C in a corner of the gymnasium of Colby Hall. It was two days after the adventure on the Rick Rack River, and it was still raining, so that drilling in the open was almost out of the question.
The four cadets who had taken part in the rescue of John Franklin and his son Phil had explained the situation to Captain Dale on their return to the school and had been warmly praised by that old West Point military man for their bravery.
It may be mentioned here that Captain Dale had been in charge of the school since Colonel Colby had volunteered for the war and gone to France to fight.
Many of the cadets hated the rain and hoped it would soon clear. They loved drilling in the open far more than when held indoors, and they also wished to get at baseball and other Spring sports.
“It’s a shame it doesn’t let up,” remarked Gif Garrison, after the drilling had come to an end and the rifles had been put away in their cases along the wall. Gif was a big youth, and the recognized head of many of the athletic sports.
“Well, we have to take such matters as they come,” returned Spouter Powell, running his hand through his heavy brush of hair. “Were it not for the gentle rains, and the dews later on, the fields and slopes of the hills would not be clothed in the verdant green which all true lovers of nature so much admire. Instead we might have a bleak barrenness, a dissolution which would appall——”
“Gee, Spouter is at it again!” broke in Will Hendry, usually called Fatty by his chums because of his rotundity. Fatty was extremely good-natured, and as a consequence nearly every one admired him.
“Nothing gentle about this rain!” exclaimed Dan Soppinger, another cadet. “It’s coming down in bucketfuls. Say, that puts me in mind—I’ve got an essay to write on moisture. Can any of you tell me why condensation takes place when——”
“Hurrah! the human question-box is once more with us,” broke in Andy Rover. “Dan, I think you’d die if you couldn’t ask questions.”
“Humph! how is a fellow going to learn anything if he doesn’t ask questions?” retorted Dan.
“You might walk around with a set of encyclopedias in your pocket,” proposed Randy.
“That’s it, Dan. Get a regular thirty-volume set while you are at it. You’ve got about thirty pockets in your suit, haven’t you? You could put one in each pocket.”
“I wish it would clear off to-morrow, at least enough to go to Haven Point,” said Fred. “They have a dandy moving picture at Mr. Falstein’s place.”
“Oh, I know the piece you mean, Fred,” cried Andy slyly. “It’s entitled ‘Meeting the Girls; or, The Great Conspiracy.’”
“Did the girls say they were going to see the pictures, Fred?” questioned Jack quickly.
“Mary telephoned that they might go,” answered Fred. “That is, she said she and Martha might, and if they go probably some of the others will go too.”
“Then we must get down to see the pictures by all means,” answered Jack. “That is, if the storm lets up. If it keeps on raining I don’t think any of them will show up.”
“Let’s go in for a little gymnastic work,” cried Randy, and had soon shed his cap and his coat. He leaped up to one of the turning-bars, and was soon busily going through various gymnastic evolutions. His twin joined him, and then they did a little team work, much to the admiration of some of the others present.
“How about a swing from one bar to the next?” called out Ned Lowe. Ned was known as the chief singer of the school and was very handy with a mandolin.
“All right, Ned; I’ll swing against you,” called Andy quickly.
“Not much!” was Ned’s ready reply. “I know you can beat me. See what you can do against Walt Baxter.”
Walt Baxter was a clean-cut athletic youth who had made good in various contests in the gymnasium and on the baseball and football field. He was the son of Dan Baxter, who at one time had been a bitter enemy of the older Rovers. But the senior Baxter had reformed, and his son was well liked by the younger Rovers.
“All right, Walt,” called out Andy. “Do you want to swing against me or against my brother Randy?”
“I’ll swing against both of you,” answered Walt pleasantly.
The details of the little contest were quickly arranged, and it was decided that Randy should make the first swing, Walt the second, and Andy should come last. The swing was to consist of a flying leap from one bar to the next, and then to a large pad spread beyond the second bar.
“One try only now, remember!” cried Dan Soppinger. “Do your best, everybody.”
It did not take Randy long to get into position, and then he made a swing and a leap which were gracefulness itself. He landed on the pad lightly, but quite close to the second bar.
“I’m sure I can do better than that!” cried Walt Baxter; and in less than a minute he too
had made the swing, landing half a foot beyond the mark set by Randy.
Andy eyed the distance carefully, and then prepared to make the swing.
“Here’s where I do the flying-fish act!” he cried merrily.
“What’s going on here? A contest? Let me see it!” came a voice from behind the crowd that had assembled to see the performance. Then Henry Stowell, a small cadet who was a good deal of a sneak, pushed his way to the front of the gathering.
“Hi, Codfish, what are you trying to do?” exclaimed Ned Lowe, who had been elbowed rather rudely by the small cadet.
“I want to see what’s going on,” cried Stowell.
“All right, Codfish, take it in for all you’re worth,” called out Fatty Hendry, and then put out his foot and pushed the sneak of the school forward.
It was a vigorous shove, and in order to keep himself from pitching headlong Henry Stowell took half a dozen quick steps forward. Andy was just in the act of launching himself from one bar to the next when Stowell’s forward movement carried him to a point directly between the two bars. As a consequence Andy’s feet struck the smaller cadet in the shoulder, and both went down in a heap on the floor.
“Stop! Stop! What are you trying to do—kill me?” yelled Stowell, as Andy came down on top of him in anything but a gentle fashion.
“I’d like to know what you are trying to do, Codfish?” demanded Andy, using a nickname for Stowell which the latter abhorred.
“I didn’t do a thing! Fatty Hendry tried to trip me up.”
“And you shoved your way in where you had no business to be,” retorted Fatty. “Just the same, I’m sorry he got in your way, Andy,” he added.
“Are either of you hurt?” questioned Jack quickly.
“He spoiled my jump,” answered his cousin.
“And he kicked me in the shoulder and knocked me down,” whined Stowell. “I’ve a good mind to report him.”
“What! After all we did for you in the woods last Winter?” demanded Fred. They had found Stowell with Werner and Glutts and had rescued the little cadet from the bullies and seen him safe on his way home.
The Rover Boys Megapack Page 405