Boy Scouts on a Long Hike Part 11

"Well, it's got to be some storm to keep the boys of the Beaver Patrol from finishing their hike on time," declared Seth, grimly.

"That's so, Seth, you never spoke truer words," added Fritz. "I reckon, now, half of Beverly will turn out on the green this after noon to see the conquering heroes come home. There's been the biggest crowds around that jeweler's window all week, staring at that handsome cup, and wishing they would have a chance to help win it."

"And we'd hate the worst kind to disappoint our friends and folks, wouldn't we, fellers?" Eben remarked.

Somehow both limpers forgot to give way to their weakness, and from that minute on the very thought of the great crowd that would send up a tremendous cheer when the boys in khaki came in sight, was enough to make them walk as though they did not know such a thing as getting tired.

"Look!" cried Fritz, a couple of minutes afterwards, "oh! my stars!

what's that big thing rising up behind the tops of the trees over there?"

"Somebody's barn is blowing away, I guess!" exclaimed Eben, in tones that shook with sudden alarm. "Mebbe's it's a cyclone acomin', boys.

Paul, what had we ought to do? It ain't safe to be under trees at such a time, I've heard!"

"Cyclone, your granny!" jeered Seth Carpenter, who had very sharp eyes, and was less apt to get "rattled" at the prospect of sudden danger, than the bugler of Beverly Troop, "why, as sure as you live, I believe it's a balloon, Paul!"

"What! a real and true balloon?" almost shrieked Eben, somewhat relieved at the improved prospect.

"You're right, Seth," declared the scoutmaster, "it _is_ a balloon, and it looks to me right now as though there's been trouble for the aeronaut. That gas-bag has a tough look to me, just as if it had lost about half of the stuff that keeps it floating! See how it wabbles, will you, fellows, and how low down over the trees it hangs. There, it just grazed that bunch of oaks on the little rise. The next time it'll get caught, and be ripped to pieces!"

"Paul, do you think that can be a man hanging there?" cried Seth.

"Sometimes it looks to me like it was; and then again the balloon tilts over so much I just can't be sure."

"We'll know soon enough," remarked the patrol leader, quietly, "because, as you can see, the runaway balloon is heading this way, full tilt. I wouldn't be surprised if it pa.s.sed right over our heads."

"Say, perhaps we might grab hold of some trailing rope, and bring the old thing down?" suggested Fritz, looking hastily around him while speaking, as if desirous of being prepared, as a true scout should always make it a point to be, and have his tree picked out, about which he would hastily wind a rope, should he be fortunate enough to get hold of such.

"Whew! I wouldn't want to be in that feller's shoes," observed Eben, as they all stood there in the road, watching the rapidly approaching balloon.

"Solid ground for me, every time, except when I'm in swimming, or skimming along over the ice in winter!" Andy interjected, without once removing his eager eyes from the object that had so suddenly caught their attention.

It was a sight calculated to hold the attention of any one, with that badly battered balloon sweeping swiftly along on the wind, and approaching so rapidly.

All of them could see that there was a man clinging to the ropes that marked the place where the customary basket should have been; evidently this latter must have been torn away during a collision with the rocks or trees on the top of a ridge with which the ungovernable gas-bag had previously been in contact; and it was a marvel how the aeronaut had been able to cling there.

"Will it land near here, d'ye think, Paul?" asked Jotham, round-eyed with wonder, and feeling very sorry for the wretched traveler of the upper air currents, who seemed to be in deadly peril of his life.

"I hardly think so," replied the scoutmaster, rapidly measuring distances with his ready eye, and calculating upon the drop of the half collapsed balloon.

"But see where the bally old thing's heading, will you?" cried Seth, "straight at the place where them crows came out of. Say, wouldn't it be awful tough now, if it dropped right down in the heart of Black Water Swamps, where up to now never a human being has set foot, unless some Indian did long ago, when the Shawnees and Sacs and Pottawattomies and all that crowd rampaged through this region flat-footed."

The scouts stood there, and watched with tense nerves as the drifting balloon drew rapidly closer.

Now they could plainly see the man. He had secured himself in some way among the broken ropes that had doubtless held the basket in place. Yes, and he must have discovered the presence of the little khaki-clad band of boys on the road, for surely he was waving his hand to them wildly now.

Perhaps he understood that it was a safe thing to appeal to any boy who wore that well known suit; because every one has learned by this time that when a lad takes upon himself the duties and obligations of scoutcraft, he solemnly promises to always help a fellow in distress, when the opportunity comes along; and with most scouts the habit has become so strong that they always keep both eyes open, looking for just such openings.

Closer and closer came the wrecked air monster.

Just as one of the boys had said, it seemed about to pa.s.s very nearly overhead; and as the man would not be more than sixty or seventy feet above them, possibly he might be able to shout out a message.

"Keep still! He's calling something down to us!" cried Seth, when several of the others had started to chatter at a lively rate.

Now the balloon was whipping past, going at a pretty good clip.

Apparently, then, it did not mean to get quite low enough to let them clutch any trailing rope, and endeavor to effect the rescue of the aeronaut. Fritz did make an upward leap, and try to lay hold of the only rope that came anywhere near them; but missed it by more than a foot.

"Accident--badly wrenched leg--follow up, and bring help--Anderson, from St. Louis--balloon _Great Republic_--report me as down--will drop in few minutes!"

They caught every word, although the man's voice seemed husky, and weak, as if he might have been long exposed and suffering. And as they stood and watched the balloon drift steadily away, lowering all the time, every one of those eight scouts felt moved by a great feeling of pity for the valiant man who had risked his life and was now in such a desperate situation.

"There she goes down, fellers!" cried Eben, excitedly.

"And what d'ye know, the bally old balloon has taken a crazy notion to drop right in the worst part of the Black Water Swamps, where we were just saying n.o.body had ever been before!"

CHAPTER X

DUTY ABOVE ALL THINGS

"Gee! whiz! that's tough!"

Fritz gave vent to his overwrought feelings after this boyish fashion; and his words doubtless echoed the thought that was in the mind of every fellow in that little bunch of staring scouts.

True enough, the badly damaged balloon had taken a sudden dip downward, as though unable to longer remain afloat, with such a scanty supply of gas aboard; and as Seth said, it certainly looked as though it had chosen the very worst place possible to drop--about in the heart of the swamp.

"Now, why couldn't the old thing have dipped low enough right here for us to grab that trailing rope?" demanded Jotham, dejectedly; for he immediately began to feel that all manner of terrible things were in store for the aeronaut, if, as seemed likely, he would be marooned in the unknown mora.s.s, with no means of finding his way out, and an injured leg in the bargain to contend with.

"Hope he didn't come down hard enough to hurt much," remarked Andy.

"Huh! if half we've heard about that place is true, little danger of that," declared Seth. "Chances are he dropped with a splash into a bed of muck. I only hope he don't get drowned before help comes along!"

"Help! what sort of help can reach him there?" observed Fritz, solemnly; and then once again did those eight scouts exchange uneasy glances.

"As soon as we let them know in Beverly, why, sure they'll organize some sort of relief expedition. I know a dozen men who'd be only too glad to lend a helping hand to a lost aeronaut," Andy went on to say.

"Wherever do you suppose he came from, Paul?" asked Eben.

"Say, didn't you hear him say St. Louis?" demanded Seth. "Better take some of that wax out of your ears, Eben."

"Whee! that's a pretty good ways off, seems to me," the bugler remarked, shaking his head, as though he found the story hard to believe.

"Why, that's nothing to brag of," Seth a.s.sured him. "They have big balloon races from St. Louis every year, nearly, and the gas-bags drift hundreds of miles across the country. I read about several that landed in New Jersey, and one away up in Canada won the prize. This one met with trouble before it got many miles on its journey. And he wants us to report that the _Great Republic_ is down; Anderson, he said his name was, didn't he, Paul?"

"Yes, that was it," replied the scoutmaster.

Paul seemed to be looking unusually grave, and the others realized that he must have something of more than usual importance on his mind.