Canoe Boys and Campfires Part 36

"I hate to think that the cruise is nearly over," remarked Clay, "but all the same it will be nice to get home again."

Ned laughed as he folded up the map and put it in his pocket.

"I know just how you feel," he said. "It will be very nice to sleep in a soft bed, and eat off a table again, and sit out on the boathouse porch in the evenings; but about a week after you get home you'll wish with all your heart you were back on the creek with the gra.s.s for a bed and a rock for a table. Canoeing is like ice cream--when you once taste it you are always wanting more. It reminds me of what I read about a famous African explorer. He was always glad to get back to civilization for a little while, and then he was more anxious than ever to return to his wild life. It seemed as though he couldn't breathe right anywhere but in Africa."

"I hope canoeing _is_ like that," said Randy. "Then we will make lots more trips together. I feel just as you do about it, Ned. I don't like to see the cruise end, but it will be very nice in some ways to get home. Won't the other boys be envious when they see how sunburnt we are, and hear all about the exciting adventures we have had?"

"When will we reach the end of the creek?" asked Nugget with a rapturous expression. "Monday?"

"Hardly," replied Ned. "It will take longer than that. But why are you so anxious to get home, Nugget?"

"He wants to put on a suit of cream colored clothes," exclaimed Clay with mock gravity, "and a boiled shirt and high collar. He is longing to encase his lily white hands in kid gloves, and his dainty feet in patent leathers."

As Nugget blushed an angry red, and made no reply, it is to be presumed that Clay's remark contained more truth than fiction.

"You fellows are all counting your chickens too soon," said Ned. "A good many miles separate us from home, and as likely as not there are more rough times in store for us."

Lightly spoken and lightly meant were these words, but Ned recalled them under thrilling circ.u.mstances a day or two later.

All day Sunday the creek continued to rise slowly until it was just a foot from the top of the bank. It was stationary at nine o'clock in the evening, and when it began to fall two hours later the boys turned in, satisfied that the danger was over.

The water receded a foot and a half during the night, but when Monday morning dawned with a clear sky the flood was still a sight to behold as it rolled swiftly by the camp, its smooth yellow surface dotted with tangled gra.s.ses and driftwood.

As far as the boys could see was high and hilly land, but there was no doubt that the lowlands were inundated far on each side of the creek.

The rains had been unusually heavy.

CHAPTER x.x.xII

THE BROKEN DAM

By nine o'clock the Jolly Rovers were afloat--adrift would be a better word, since the swift current made the paddles unnecessary, except for a guiding touch now and then. It did not occur to the boys to delay their departure on account of the flood. They were tired of the camping place, and moreover the high water would likely be a help rather than a hindrance.

They found it keenly exhilarating to lean lazily back in their canoes and be carried at a whirling pace around bend after bend. There was just enough danger from submerged islands and reefs, and floating _debris_, to add spice to the enjoyment.

Here and there, where the creek pa.s.sed through low country, the fields were inundated, and only the tops of the fences could be seen above the water.

A mile or two below camp a sudden sweep of the channel brought into view a red wooden bridge. The creek, being wide at this point, the bridge was supported in the center by a narrow, squarely built pier.

As the boys came closer they saw that the pier had been shattered by some terrific power. The whole face of it was torn away, and the frail portion that remained seemed in danger of being carried off by the yellow flood that was surging against it. Two men had climbed down from an opening in the bridge, and were busy among the loose stones, evidently trying to fit them into place again. From the left sh.o.r.e a little knot of people was watching the operation.

Naturally the boys were curious to know what it meant, and when they drew near they slackened the speed of the canoes by backing water vigorously with their paddles.

"Did the flood do all that damage?" asked Ned.

"No," answered one of the men, stopping work to look up, "the ice did it last winter, and the commissioners neglected to have it repaired. A pretty bill they're likely to have to pay for their carelessness. It's too late to do anything now."

"That's so," a.s.sented the other man; "we may as well stop work and get out of this."

"But what danger are you afraid of now?" resumed Ned. "The pier has stood the worst of the flood and the water is going down."

The first speaker jerked his finger up the creek. "They say that Honck's dam is liable to break at any minute," he answered slowly. "It's a mighty old dam, and has been threatenin' to give 'way fur the last ten years. It's a big high one, too, and has a heap of timber in it. Just as surely as that ma.s.s of stuff comes down the creek with a volume of water behind it, this pier will go to pieces and down will come the bridge."

"Do you really think the dam will break?" asked Ned.

"It's ten to one," was the reply. "They say the edges are giving way now. You fellows had better get off the creek afore it's too late. Them c.o.c.klesh.e.l.l boats won't stand much."

With this warning the speaker climbed up the pier, followed by his companion, and both disappeared in the bridge. The boys lifted their paddles from the water and went swiftly on with the current for the time being.

"These rustics have exaggerated the danger, I'll bet anything," said Randy. "If Honck's dam was going to break it would not have waited until the flood was half way down."

"I don't know about that," replied Ned. "The danger may be very real."

He had given the dam some attention while the canoes were being carried around it on the previous Wednesday, and he now remembered with secret uneasiness that it was very high and rotten, and held in check a vast volume of water. Terrible would be the consequences if this were suddenly to be freed.

"What are we going to do?" asked Nugget uneasily.

"That man warned us to leave the creek, and he knew what he was talking about."

"We can't very well take his advice now," replied Ned, "for there is no landing place in sight."

"There is no use in stopping at all," exclaimed Randy, "if the object is to wait for the dam to break. We might be detained for a week, and then find that the dam was as strong as ever. And besides we could hear the noise in time to get out of the way. All we need to do is keep our ears open and look behind from time to time."

"Even if the dam should break the chances are that with such a current as this we could keep ahead of the flood," suggested Clay. "Don't you think so, Ned?"

"I'm afraid that's doubtful," replied. Ned. "At all events I don't think I should care to run a race with the flood even on a start of half a dozen miles. For the present we had better follow Randy's advice and keep our eyes and ears open. If we find a suitable place I am in favor of stopping for an hour or two. We are too near home to risk disaster."

This arrangement was satisfactory to all except Nugget, and he made no outward remonstrance.

For the next two hours all went well, and mile after mile was swiftly traversed. The boys kept in mid-channel so as to reap the fullest advantage from the current.

They looked back from time to time, but neither saw nor heard anything alarming. The smooth yellow flood glided between the wooded banks with scarcely a murmur.

About midday the creek turned a sharp angle, and headed due north in a straight course of fully half a mile. Beyond the steep hills that terminated this stretch the boys could see the distant blue line of the mountains.

The fears of the morning had vanished, and all were in buoyant spirits.

The home-coming loomed brightly before them now, for with such a current the Susquehanna would soon be reached.

On the left hand side of the creek stretched a sloping hill, wooded for a distance of two or three hundred yards as it receded from the water, and then merging into open fields. On the right was a rugged cliff full of limestone rocks and scrawly pine trees.

The boys did not pay much attention to their surroundings, but when they were nearly half way to the bend, Randy happened to glance toward the left, and on the very crest of the hill, a good quarter of a mile from the water, he saw a little white farmhouse.

There was nothing in this to attract his attention, but as his gaze lingered he saw a man come out on the porch and glance up the creek, shading his eyes with his hand. Then he turned toward the house, and an instant later two women and another man appeared and looked in the same direction.

This was growing interesting, and Randy called the attention of his companions to the farmhouse. What happened next was stranger still. The little group on the porch suddenly caught sight of the canoes far below them, and one of the men darted quickly into the house. He reappeared a second or two later with a shiny object in his hand, and placing it to his mouth he blew a shrill discordant blast that echoed far over the hills.