The Banner Boy Scouts on a Tour Part 34

"Come and show me which tree; Paul, I may want your help. The rest of you stay right here, and don't move under any circ.u.mstances," and so saying Mr. Gordon caught the boy who "knew" by the shoulder, and dragged him along.

Paul staggered after them. The wind was very strong, and it was impossible to walk in places without bending down almost to the earth.

Besides, there seemed to be many branches torn from the trees flying through the air, so that it was perilous to life and limb to be abroad.

But the scoutmaster was one who could command, and he forced the tentmate of the missing Nuthin to find the spot where the canvas had stood at the time it was torn out of their hands.

"That's the tree, sir!" cried the boy, trying to point in the darkness.

"I can see something white up in the branches, sir; it must be the tent!" Paul himself shouted just then.

They made their way forward, and the lightning, happening just then to dart in zigzag lines across the inky heavens as if to a.s.sist them, they saw that sure enough the missing tent was caught in the tree, about fifteen feet from the ground.

"Can you see anything of him, Paul?" called Mr. Gordon, as the three of them cowered under the tree, that was bending and groaning before the blast.

"I didn't that time, sir; but wait for another flash; perhaps we'll have better luck," replied the patrol leader, eagerly.

It was a long time coming. Paul could feel the other scout shivering furiously as his hand touched him, probably more through fright than excessive cold; though the experience of being soaked to the skin was far from comforting.

Then came a dazzling flood of electric light that almost blinded them.

"There he is, sir, hanging onto the tent! I think he must be twisted up in one of the ropes. Shall I go up and find out?" called Paul.

"I think you'll have to, my boy," answered the scoutmaster; and if ever he felt pride in one of his troop it must have been then, when Paul, forgetting what chances there were of that tree falling, offered to climb into the branches, in order to rescue a comrade in peril.

Without losing a second the patrol leader sought the lowest limb, and drew himself up. He could feel the trunk of the bending tree straining as it was twisted by the violence of each terrible blast; but undaunted by this impending calamity Paul's only desire was to reach the side of poor Nuthin before worse things happened to him than being carried away with the balloon-like tent.

CHAPTER XXIX

A PANIC-STRICKEN CROWD

"Oh! Help! help!"

The cry reached Paul's ears between blasts of the howling wind; but he never could have caught it had he not been so close to the wretched boy who gave utterance to the appeal.

With every nerve strained to the utmost, the young patrol leader continued to climb upward. He could see the tent flattened out like a great pancake against the branches of the tree. It had opened as it swept along, and the force of the gale had for the time being turned it into 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 could come in contact with his comrade. Branches were in the way, and swayed back 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 he unconsciously used the real name of Cypher, something few people save his parents and teachers did, when A. Cypher stood so handsomely for Nuthin.

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

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

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

This sort of an explanation just fitted in with what Paul had conjectured. He had found it hard to believe that Nuthin would be so frightened as to cling desperately to the flying tent, when he knew that it was being carried off by the gale. He must have been an involuntary pa.s.senger of the airship that quickly ended its short flight in a neighboring tree.

Fortunately Paul had his stout pocket knife with him. He never went without it; and furthermore, it was his habit to keep all of the blades very sharp. If a knife is going to be worth a grain of salt it should be sharp. Many a fellow has realized this with dismay when some situation has confronted him calling for a keen blade, and has found his knife almost worthless to solve the difficulty.

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

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

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

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

But Paul had another problem to face. If he cut suddenly there would be nothing to support the other, and Nuthin might have an ugly fall through small branches that would scratch his face still more than it had been already cut.

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

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

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

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

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

Then, dropping his handy knife, he immediately threw his arm around the body of Nuthin. Possibly the other might have managed to keep from falling; but still he was in a state of panic, and his muscles were weakened 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 to help himself. In times of stress there is nothing like confidence. It carries nearly everything before it, and brings victory where otherwise defeat 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 get down to the ground a second too soon to satisfy his anxiety.

They found the others awaiting them below, and Mr. Gordon caught Nuthin in 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 hurried away from the ruined camp, leaving him fast in the tree? He would have been in for a terrible experience, and in the end it might have resulted seriously for the boy.

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

"Pretty sore, sir, but nothing serious, I reckon," came the rea.s.suring answer, which proved that Nuthin did, after all, possess a fair amount of pluck.

When they arrived in the vicinity of the spot where the mess tent had stood, the rest of the troop greeted their coming with a faint cheer. It takes a good deal to utterly discourage a bunch of healthy boys; and while things looked pretty bleak, still they made out to consider the adventure in the light of a joke. No one wished his companions to know just how badly frightened he really was.

"Now we must get out of this," said Mr. Gordon, "and as we make our way along, 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 the late joyous camp, now lying a seeming wreck. Yet things were not as bad as they might have been, thanks to their wisdom in cutting down the tents before more of them blew away.

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