THE BOY SCOUTS
IN THE
GREAT FLOOD

BY
SCOUT MASTER ROBERT SHALER

AUTHOR OF “BOY SCOUTS OF THE SIGNAL CORPS,” “BOY SCOUTS OF PIONEER CAMP,” “BOY SCOUTS OF THE GEOLOGICAL SURVEY,” “BOY SCOUTS OF THE LIFE SAVING CREW,” “BOY SCOUTS ON PICKET DUTY,” “BOY SCOUTS OF THE FLYING SQUADRON,” “BOY SCOUTS AND THE PRIZE PENNANT,” “BOY SCOUTS OF THE NAVAL RESERVE,” “BOY SCOUTS IN THE SADDLE,” “BOY SCOUTS FOR CITY IMPROVEMENT,” “BOY SCOUTS OF THE FIELD HOSPITAL,” “BOY SCOUTS WITH THE RED CROSS,” “BOY SCOUTS AS COUNTY FAIR GUIDES,” “BOY SCOUTS AS FOREST FIRE FIGHTERS,” ETC.

NEW YORK
HURST & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS

Sterling Boy Scout Books

BY
Scout Master Robert Shaler

Bound in cloth Fifteen titles

1 Boy Scouts of the Signal Corps. 2 Boy Scouts of Pioneer Camp. 3 Boy Scouts of the Geological Survey. 4 Boy Scouts of the Life Saving Crew. 5 Boy Scouts on Picket Duty. 6 Boy Scouts of the Flying Squadron. 7 Boy Scouts and the Prize Pennant. 8 Boy Scouts of the Naval Reserve. 9 Boy Scouts in the Saddle. 10 Boy Scouts for City Improvement. 11 Boy Scouts in the Great Flood. 12 Boy Scouts of the Field Hospital. 13 Boy Scouts with the Red Cross. 14 Boy Scouts as County Fair Guides. 15 Boy Scouts as Forest Fire Fighters.

You can purchase any of the above books at the price you paid for this one, or the publishers will send any book, postpaid, upon receipt of 25c.

HURST & CO., Publishers
432 Fourth Avenue, New York

Copyright, 1915, by Hurst & Company

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE I. [Signs of Coming Trouble] 5 II. [Stranded Far Away from Home] 18 III. [On the Tottering Bridge] 32 IV. [An Honor to the Wolf Patrol] 46 V. [Scouts to the Rescue] 57 VI. [A Lucky Meeting] 73 VII. [The Helping Hand] 85 VIII. [The Dawn of the Scouts’ Day] 96 IX. [Gathering Them In] 107 X. [Mr. Jasper Changes His Mind] 119 XI. [A Daring Rescue] 130 XII. [Well-earned Praise] 142

The Boy Scouts in the Great Flood.

CHAPTER I.
SIGNS OF COMING TROUBLE.

“I’m sick of seeing it raining, and that’s a fact, Hugh. Seems to me it’s been pouring down in bucketfuls for a whole week now!”

“Three days, to be exact, Billy. The worst is yet to come, I’m afraid.”

“You’ll have to explain that conundrum to me, Hugh, because I don’t seem to catch on to what you mean.”

“Stop and think what a tremendous lot of snow fell last winter, Billy. Everybody in Oakvale said it beat the record. And now they report that it’s started melting at a great rate in the mountains. And here’s the rain and sudden warm weather.”

“That would be a bad combination, for a fact!”

“It might make a serious flood for all the valley below. As we came along on the train that brought us here, I noticed the water was lapping the embankment in a number of places. I hope they don’t have a washout that would keep us marooned here in Lawrence, and away from home.”

The boy whose name was Billy, and who was a good-natured looking, stoutly built chap, dressed, underneath his raincoat, in the khaki of a scout, whistled and allowed a gleam of additional interest to sweep across his face as he exclaimed:

“Gee whittaker! That would be an interesting experience! And Hugh, two members in good standing of the Wolf Patrol, Oakvale Troop of Boy Scouts, might find some bully opportunities for showing what scouts can do in emergencies. Between you and me I don’t know but what I’d be glad of a chance to be marooned in the flood belt, so as to watch the circus.”

The two lads were Hugh Hardin and Billy Worth, whose names have become household words to such boys as have had the pleasure of reading previous volumes of this series.

Since there may be new readers who are making the acquaintance of the lively members of the famous Wolf Patrol for the first time, perhaps it would be only fair for us to turn back a little and say something concerning Hugh and his friends.

At first, the new movement had not taken hold in Oakvale with any great speed, so that the Wolf Patrol composed the entire membership of the troop. But Hugh Hardin, Billy Worth, Bud Morgan, Arthur Cameron, and the other members began to have such a grand time that more boys evinced an ardent desire to join.

So another patrol had been started, and the good work continued from month to month, until, at the time this story opens, there were the Hawks under Walter Osborne, the Otters with Alec Sands as leader, the Fox Patrol in charge of Don Miller, and a new detachment to be called the Owls, which Lige Corbley had recently been organizing.

Besides being the leader of the Wolf Patrol, Hugh sometimes acted as assistant scout master in the absence of Lieutenant Denmead, a retired army officer who gave considerable time to the boys, for whom he felt sincere affection.

These lads had many times been in camp on the slopes of Old Stormberg Mountain, near their native town; and in and upon the clear waters of the lake they had paddled, fished, swam, and enjoyed every aquatic sport known to them.

Many of them were posted in all the valuable knowledge that a true scout deems essential to his well-being. Occasions had arisen whereby certain favored members of the troop had been enabled to pass through rather remarkable experiences in other sections of the country.

One of these trips, detailed at length in earlier volumes, took them to the encampment of the state militia, where the boys were enabled to prove their mettle by serving in the Signal Corps. From the commander they received many compliments on account of their proficiency with the flags and in heliograph work.

Some of them had even taken a trip to the Sunny South, visiting the coast region in Florida, where they found a chance to assist the Life Saving crew in their work of rescuing shipwrecked mariners from watery graves.

At another time, they were given the privilege of being in company with the Naval Reserve Corps aboard a Government war vessel at the annual drill. Thus they learned a great deal more about the means of coast defense which Uncle Sam has at his disposal than they could ever have picked up second hand or from books.

These experiences, and many others that have been treated in detail in the preceding volumes, had made seasoned veterans of some of the Oakvale Scouts. Hugh and Billy in particular had gone through so many different adventures that they often had occasion to wonder what would come along next on the program.

Their last real exploit had been the cleaning up of their native town. For the accomplishment of this useful service they had received the unstinted thanks of the clubwomen, who had long wrestled with the problem without being able, unassisted, to accomplish any reformation.

When the scouts took hold, backed by these public-spirited women, who proceeded to see that the ordinances were strictly enforced, a wonderful change came over the whole community. Previous to that time, at every windstorm, the streets were a sight to behold—filthy with flying papers and all sorts of trash. But quickly order came out of chaos, despite the plottings of a set of mean boys who endeavored to frustrate the work of renovation.

And now Oakvale was known as a model town in so far as cleanliness was concerned. Why, it seemed as though everyone living there took special pride in keeping up the good work. If a stranger carelessly happened to throw away the wrapper from a newspaper he had taken from the postoffice, the chances were ten to one half a dozen boys, or even small girls, in fact, would chase after him to ask him to please pick it up and deposit it in one of the big cans marked “I EAT TRASH” that stood at convenient corners of the main thoroughfares.

But when we meet Hugh and his best chum on the present occasion, they are far removed from their home town. It came about in this way, and after all was one of those simple matters that so frequently arise to throw people in the way of new and novel experiences.

Hugh’s folks had occasion to send a valuable package to a lawyer who lived in the city of Lawrence, situated over a hundred miles from Oakvale. Of course, had they chosen, this could have been dispatched by express; but it happened that, in order that he sign papers before witnesses, a personal interview with the gentleman was necessary.

So Hugh had been delegated to take the little journey, for no one doubted his sterling ability, or that he would accomplish every detail with scrupulous exactness, since his record along such lines spoke for itself.

Billy Worth decided to accompany him, pretending that, with such a valuable paper in his possession, Hugh needed a guard to keep him from being held up on the road and robbed. The truth of the matter was, that Billy just felt like taking the trip since it was during the Easter holidays, and he chanced to have money enough in his savings bank to cover the expenses.

They were on the way to the lawyer’s office while expressing their several opinions, as already given, with regard to the bad state of the weather. It was their intention, after the interview had been accomplished and all details carried out to the letter, to return home at once by the first train.

As had happened repeatedly before in their careers, their well-laid plans were destined to be rudely upset by circumstances over which neither of the boys had any control. In playing them this little trick, a favoring fortune placed it within their power to witness, and take part in, some of the most remarkable scenes of any that had come within the scope of their experience.

They had never been in the little city of Lawrence before, but since most of the business houses were located on the main street they had little difficulty in finding the offices of the lawyer to whom Hugh had been sent.

Mr. Jocelyn knew of their coming; indeed, was expecting their arrival on the eleven-thirty train. Much of their trip, however, on account of the threatening waters, had been accomplished at diminished speed. It was now a full hour after the set time.

The attorney had made all allowances for the delay, having doubtless called up the station agent on the ’phone, and learned just why the train from the East was so late.

The boys found Mr. Jocelyn waiting for them and with everything ready, so that the object of Hugh’s journey could be speedily and successfully carried out.

A half hour afterward the two lads descended from the office of the lawyer. Hugh felt his pocket in which he had pinned the precious document that was the cause of his visit to Lawrence with satisfaction.

Mr. Jocelyn had apologized for not asking them to stay to lunch with him. He lived some miles out of town, and intended to hurry back home immediately, as he had a sick wife whose condition gave him much anxiety. Besides, he lived not very far from the river, and the rising waters also added to his grave concern.

It was a matter of no consequence whatever to Hugh and Billy where they ate, so long as the food was fairly decent, and their money held out. Accustomed to camp fare, they knew how to take things as they found them, and seldom made any complaint; which philosophy, after all, is one of the finest traits any lad can have, and one that scouts are apt to have ingrained into their dispositions after a few camping tests.

“We can’t get out of here until that two-thirty-seven train for the East,” Hugh was saying, as they swung along the main street. The sky overhead was heavy gray, and threatened to send down another downpour of rain at any time to add to the misery of the situation.

“I noticed that there was a pretty good lunch counter down at the railroad station,” remarked Billy. “You see, some of the trains make a meal stop here at Lawrence. So they prepare for a rush of custom. I reckon we can fill up there, and be handy for the train when it comes along.”

“A good idea, Billy, to hit two birds with one stone,” declared Hugh. “While I think of it, there’s another thing we might do at the same time.”

“What’s that, Hugh?”

“We have to pass the postoffice on the way down to the station, you may remember,” said the patrol leader.

“Yes, I saw where it was,” Billy replied. “That habit of noticing things, which scouts are drilled in, can be made use of by a fellow everywhere. Nowadays I’m always looking to the right and to the left, and let me tell you it’s mighty few things that escape my eye. But tell me what the postoffice has to do with our going back home. You don’t think of sending that paper by mail after all, I hope, Hugh?”

“After going to all the trouble I have?” cried the other. “Well, I should think not, Billy. It’s a whole lot safer in my pocket than with the mails, even if I registered the package. But about the postoffice—I just happened to remember that it’s a part of the program daily, at our town, to receive the Government weather report, and post the same on the bulletin board. I suppose they do likewise here in Lawrence.”

“Oh, I see now what you’re after,” observed Billy hastily. “You think that, with these unusual conditions hanging over this section of country, Uncle Sam might get out special flood reports and predictions.”

“That’s it,” Hugh declared. “I’ve got an idea something like that must have happened, because when we were passing the postoffice I could see quite a crowd hanging around, mostly men; and Billy, they seemed to be talking in knots, as though discussing something mighty serious.”

“And Hugh, that crowd is bigger than ever now. Look yonder, and you can see how it stretches out into the street. People are heading that way, too, from all directions, you notice. It looks to me as if there is something doing that has all the earmarks of a tragedy.”

The two boys turned grave faces toward each other. Although Billy may have spoken rather light-heartedly about his desire to witness a flood, at the same time he could appreciate something of the horror that always attends such a catastrophe; and the prospect of being involved in so sweeping a disaster gave him a strange thrill in the region of his heart.

They hastened their footsteps. Others were to be seen running toward the postoffice, and often stopping to make inquiries of those they knew. Since the two members of the Wolf Patrol were absolute strangers in town, they did not depend on getting their information at second hand, but pushed their way through the gathering crowd, until they found themselves inside the building given over to the service of the postoffice department.

“Here you are, over this way!” said Hugh, as he elbowed through the thick mass of humanity, and on all sides they began to hear gloomy expressions and forebodings.

There was a paper posted on the wall, which engaged the attention of the surging throng. The scouts saw that there was a line or two of typewriting on it, which they managed to read with bated breath, and this was what the notice said:

“Heavy rains predicted for to-night and to-morrow all through the Eastern section. Flood conditions will prevail, possibly to an unprecedented extent in some quarters.”

CHAPTER II.
STRANDED FAR AWAY FROM HOME.

“What do you think about it, Hugh?” asked Billy, after they had allowed themselves to be pushed along by the surging, anxious crowd, and found themselves once more outside the postoffice building, headed toward the railroad station.

“Looks like a bad job, I’m afraid,” replied the patrol leader. “You see, the river runs past Lawrence, and already its bank is full with the flood, which is rising right along. I heard one man say it was up to the highest notch on record. If rain keeps coming, there is no telling what terrible calamity might hit all this section of country.”

Billy drew a long breath.

“I want to take back something I said without thinking twice, Hugh. I guess, after all, a flood isn’t anything to laugh at. The look on the faces of those men and women at the postoffice gave me a bad feeling.”

“Well,” said the scout leader seriously, “they are afraid that a flood will spell ruin for some of them. Houses may be carried away, and barns broken into little bits. All sorts of valuable farm animals are apt to be drowned. And sometimes even people in the bargain find themselves marooned in their homes without food, and expecting to be afloat on the flood at any minute. No, there’s a heap more of tragedy about a flood than comedy, let me tell you, Billy.”

“I’m wondering about our train, Hugh.”

“You mean whether it can get here or not? Between you and me, Billy, I’d say the chances were all against us seeing home to-night!”

“Whew!”

After that exclamation “Billy the Wolf,” as he was often called by his friends, relapsed into silence for a brief space of time; but it was hard for him to keep from expressing the thoughts that surged through his brain, so that presently he started once more to say something.

“Hugh, I’ve noticed a few boys in scout suits around here since we came. One fellow even gave me the high sign, as though he wanted to be friendly. I wonder now if they have an organization, and whether we couldn’t get in touch with the crowd in case we find ourselves marooned here in the flood time.”

“I went to the trouble to look that up before we left home, and I learned that they used to have a good strong unit here in Lawrence two years back,” Hugh informed him. “But it seems that it’s taken to losing its grip on the boys. They lost the scout master who had done most of the work of building the troop up, and ever since things have grown from bad to worse. Just now they seldom meet, and seem to lack all the enthusiasm that is necessary to success in any organization.”

“Well, there are boys who still wear the khaki,” declared Billy, “and if it happens that we do find ourselves kept here, we might try and get them together, so as to organize a relief corps of scouts.”

“That’s not a bad idea, Billy, and I’ll remember it,” declared Hugh. “Here we are at the station, and the next thing to do is to get a feed.”

“I’m jolly well ready for a layout, let me tell you,” chuckled Billy. “Breakfast at seven, and it’s now nearly one. Think of that for a record, and never a bite in between—well, I did have a couple of apples on the train, three bananas, and that candy; but those sorts of things never count with me. Now for a raid on that lunch counter. When I give my order watch the waiter run to the door to see how many more scouts there are coming.”

Of course, Billy was only joking, for the man at the lunch counter did nothing of the kind. They were able to make a very respectable meal, sitting there on the stools provided for hasty travelers who would possibly bolt a cup of hot coffee, snatch up a sandwich, and hurry out, for fear their train might leave them in the lurch, only to learn they had another fifteen minutes’ wait.

When finally even Billy declared he could not eat anything more, they paid their bill and sauntered out of the lunchroom.

“Just a quarter of two,” announced Hugh.

“And our train isn’t due until thirty-seven after,” Billy observed.

“Perhaps we might get some information from the agent about what chance there is of its getting through,” suggested the patrol leader.

“I kind of dread to put it to the test,” Billy admitted with a shrug of the shoulders. “But I guess the sooner we know the worst the better. Come along, and let’s interview the ticket man.”

As customary in towns and small cities, the telegraph operator was also the ticket agent; although there were express and station representatives. He seemed to be busily employed taking and receiving messages, and paid not the slightest attention to the two scouts as they came to the window of his booth.

As both Hugh and Billy had studied telegraphy, and were, in fact, pretty clever operators, they soon began to try and read the message as it came clicking over the wires.

The very first words they deciphered gave them a severe shock, and made them doubly eager to catch still more, for they were “bad washouts,” “all trains withdrawn until further orders!”

It was a troubled face that Billy turned toward his chum. The agent had left the telegraph instrument, and was hurrying outside, without appearing to notice them. He acted like a man who had a heavy weight on his mind.

“Did you get that part of the message, Billy?” asked Hugh gravely.

“We’re going to be shut up here in Lawrence, seems like, and marooned.” answered the other. “Gosh! It does take the cake what queer things happen to you and me, Hugh. Of all the times we might have taken to come over here, we hit on the one great day Lawrence has ever known. Looks like we’re in the soup.”

“As long as we manage to keep from being in the flood we shouldn’t complain, I take it,” the patrol leader suggested.

“Where’s he’s gone to, do you reckon, Hugh?”

“The agent?” queried the second lad. “Outside, to write some sort of notice on the bulletin board where they announce whether trains are on time or not.”

“Let’s go and see,” suggested Billy.

They found that Hugh had hit the right nail on the head when he hazarded that opinion, for the agent was just finishing some sort of notice, using a piece of chalk to write it. Several other people came hurrying over to learn what it might be, so that the nucleus of a crowd quickly gathered there.

Just as the boys expected, after having picked up the shreds of information from the sounder inside the ticket office, it was an announcement that was destined to add considerable gloom to the already sinking hearts of those who lived in and around Lawrence, the isolated little flood city.

“Owing to serious washouts above and below Lawrence, all train service has had to be abandoned until further notice!”

“That settles it,” said Billy, rubbing his chin with thumb and forefinger in a way he had when pondering over anything. “We’re in it up to our necks.”

“Oh! I hope not—yet,” Hugh told him. “You’re only going to have that wish you made so recklessly, gratified. After this I’d advise you to think twice before you say things like that, Billy. But here we are, and the only thing that worries me is that the folks at home will be distressed.”

“We might get a message through still, if the wires haven’t all been carried down with the embankment. Let’s make the try, Hugh.”

As the suggestion also appealed to the patrol leader, they once more entered the station. Fortunately the agent had not taken it upon himself to shut up shop and go home simply because there would be no more trains along in either direction that day. As long as the wires were working, he would have to stick to his post.

“We are from Oakvale, and would like to get a message through if it could be done,” Hugh informed him.

“Wires pretty busy with public business,” the agent said. “If you write it out, I’ll see what I can do for you. I expect any old time to find that my last connection has broken down; and after that we’ll get no news, unless they send it to us by pigeon post or via aëroplane, as all country roads are flooded.”

Accordingly Hugh wrote a brief message, telling how they were marooned in the flooded district, and asking that Billy’s folks be informed, so that they would not be worried over the non-return of the boys.

“I think I might get that through right now, as there seems to be a little lull in official business,” the accommodating agent told them, as though he liked their faces, and rather sympathized with their predicament of being caught in such a trap so far away from home.

It turned out that fortune was kind to them, for they presently heard him sending Hugh’s message. At its conclusion, both lads heaved sighs of satisfaction. They could endure whatever might be in store for them with more grit and a determination not to be dismayed now that they knew the dear ones at home would understand the reason of their not turning up.

After paying for the message and thanking the accommodating agent warmly, Hugh and Billy hastened outside. They realized they were due for new and decidedly interesting experiences; and there was a sort of half-suppressed excitement in the atmosphere of the place that was beginning to affect them.

People were getting more aroused every minute. The report that the trains to the city had all been stopped by serious washouts was being circulated in every direction. The boys could see that it added one more straw to the load that was being placed upon the backs of these Lawrence people.

“Most of them seem to be heading down toward the river,” remarked Billy. “So I propose that we walk that way, too.”

He heard no opposition from his chum, because Hugh had just been about to suggest the same thing himself. Puddles of water lay in their path almost everywhere; but these received only scant attention. Beyond lay the river, and that riveted their gaze immediately.

“Holy smoke! look at it swirling along, and as yellow as mud!” exclaimed Billy, who was a bit addicted to slang, though most of his outcroppings along that line were of a harmless character.

“It certainly is on the boom,” admitted Hugh. “It’s hard to believe that raging torrent can be the same little river that in summertime lazily meanders through this section of country. It’s carrying all sorts of flotsam and jetsam along now. See, there goes a chicken-coop; and out further is the trunk of a tree. Everything movable has to take a place in the procession when Mr. Flood comes to town.”

“Oh! see the barn coming, will you?” exclaimed Billy. “It can never go under the bridge, Hugh. When it strikes, the old thing will rattle all to pieces, I guess. Now watch what happens. Say, I think those people on the bridge are taking mighty big chances to stay there so as to see all that goes on. What if—there, now it’s going to smash up against the bridge!... Oh!”

Even as Billy was saying this in a strained voice, meanwhile clutching the arm of his companion’s raincoat in his excitement, they heard a crash; and then the barn, already badly racked by its tribulations while floating on the flood, went to pieces.

Some of the boys who were eagerly observing these happenings gave vent to a cheer, as though they thought it a treat when the unlucky barn ceased to exist, and the fragments floated off on the whirling waters.

“Whee! it looked to me like it might be nip and tuck between the barn and that old bridge,” Billy remarked, as he drew a long breath. “Why, Hugh, I could see it quivering to beat the band; and honestly one time I even thought it was going to drop over into the flood!”

“I saw the same thing, Billy,” asserted the other boy quickly.

“What made it act that way, Hugh? Looks to me as if it ought to be a pretty strong sort of a bridge, though if the river rises much more, the water’ll come level with the flooring, and then it’s going to be all up with that structure.”

“I’m afraid the water has already weakened the piers, and if that’s the case, it is bound to affect the span,” Hugh explained. “Whatever can the police of this place be thinking of, allowing foolish people to gather on a shaky bridge like that? It might topple over at any minute, and there would be a whole lot of drownings.”

“Hugh, if this was happening over at our town, I warrant you the scouts would have something to say before now about that same thing. Chances are you’d have a bunch of them at work keeping every living soul off the bridge, and guarding the approaches, so if it did go down, no one would be lost. It gives me a cold shiver just to look at all those sillies out there. Not only boys, but girls, and men as well. Why, Hugh, I can see several little tots there that ought to be tied to their mothers’ apron strings, instead of being let roam around.”

The patrol leader seemed to be just as deeply affected as Billy.

“We are scouts, we must remember, Billy; and it’s our duty to save life every time the chance comes to us,” he said, very soberly. “We’re strangers here in Lawrence, but right now I can see a number of fellows wearing khaki. Suppose we take a notion to round them up and tell them it’s their solemn duty to get busy?”

“Hugh, count on me to back you up in anything. By hook or crook, we ought to clear that shaky bridge before some big tree comes floating along to knock it so hard that it’ll go down.”

Once they had made up their minds to attempt an enterprise, the two chums never “let the grass grow under their feet” until they had done everything in their power toward accomplishing the object they had in view. And when that consisted of trying to save human life, Hugh Hardin was ready to exert himself to the utmost, regardless of his personal sacrifices.

Accordingly he and Billy started to find a couple of the wearers of the khaki suits who would be likely to listen to their bold proposition.

CHAPTER III.
ON THE TOTTERING BRIDGE.

There must have been a couple of hundred people, men, women, and children, watching the raging torrent sweep past. A flood possesses some sort of wonderful fascination over most persons, who will stand and gaze and even shudder, yet be unwilling to turn away.

New things were apt to happen at any time, as the water crept higher and higher, with the worst still to come. Upon the heaving bosom of the raging river, queer floating objects were to be discovered. Loud shouts, for instance, greeted the appearance of a hen-coop with a couple of terrified fowls perched on its roof; and great was the glee of the thoughtless onlookers when, at the crash of this strange craft against the bridge, the chickens with loud squawks flew to safety, and were pursued and caught by some of the younger lads.

“There’s our chance, Hugh,” remarked Billy Worth, soon after they had agreed to try and scrape up an acquaintance with several of those who wore the magical khaki of the scouts. “Three of them are jawing away over yonder as if they had some sort of idea they ought to be doing something, but couldn’t hit on a scheme. The field is ripe for the sowing, Hugh. Get busy with that convincing patter of yours.”

They hurried toward the three boys, who, discovering their presence, awaited the coming of the strangers in town with looks of both curiosity and wonder.

“Howdye, fellows,” said Hugh, in his pleasant way, at the same time giving the scout salute, which all of the others immediately returned. “My name’s Hugh Hardin, and that of my friend is Billy Worth. We’re from Oakvale, over here on business, and we find ourselves marooned because all trains have been abandoned until further notice. Please introduce yourselves.”

One of the trio of local scouts, who was a tall, thin chap with an odd squint in his eyes, but rather a humorous expression in his face, took it upon himself to do the honors.

“I’m Tipton Lange, commonly called ‘Tip.’ This is our bugler, Wash Bradford, who never gets a chance to blow his own horn any more since we’ve about disbanded the First Lawrence Troop; and this runt is Teddy McQuade. When you say you come from Oakvale, do you mean to tell us you belong to the same troop that has that celebrated Wolf Patrol we’ve been reading so much about in the papers?”

Billy Worth involuntarily puffed out his already full chest a little more on hearing this remark. So the papers had been printing some of their exploits, had they? Even in far-off Lawrence it was known that Oakvale had the prize troop of the State.

Hugh smiled as he replied to the other’s question.

“I never knew before that our patrol had become celebrated, though we certainly have had the good luck to be mixed up in a number of affairs that helped to broaden our knowledge of certain things scouts ought to know. Yes, we are members of that same Wolf Patrol, it happens.”

“Hugh Hardin, hey?” exclaimed the boy who had been mentioned as the bugler without a vocation. “Seems to me, Tip, that was the name of the leader of the Wolf Patrol we read about. Yes, and I remember Billy Worth, too. Say, it’s fine to meet you both. And I reckon now you do things over in your town. Shucks! the bottom’s dropped out of the scout movement in sleepy old Lawrence.”

“Put a new one in, then, why don’t you?” said Hugh eagerly.

Somehow his energy seemed to affect the other boys. They exchanged hurried glances, and their faces even lighted up a little with expectancy.

“What might you mean by that, Comrade Hardin?” asked Tip Lange ponderously.

“Wake the town up!” said Hugh. “Show them what scouts can do when they have half a chance. They lost faith in you, I take it, because there may have been jealousy in the ranks, and quarreling. Get together and astonish your people here. Make them sit up and take notice of what you can accomplish. That’s what we had to do over our way, to get to the top. And now we have our fifth patrol forming, and Oakvale isn’t nearly as big a place as your town.”

Tip Lange drew a long breath, and sighed dismally as he shook his head.

“It’s nice of you to tell us that, Hardin, and goodness knows we’d like to carry out the idea, but you don’t understand how dead a place Lawrence is these days. Every effort we made to hold an exhibition turned out a failure. It begins to look as if this was no scout town. The boys have lost all heart. I’m nearly ready to throw up the sponge myself.”

“Yep, that’s what ails us fellows; we haven’t got the opportunity to distinguish ourselves that you Wolf Patrol boys ran across,” grumbled Wash Bradford.

“No opportunity!” cried Billy Worth. “Oh! my stars. Take the scales off your eyes, fellows!”

“No opportunity!” echoed Hugh, amazed at the explanation that had been given to account for the lack of an organization in Lawrence. “Why, I never ran across such a splendid opening for scouts to make themselves useful as there is right at this very minute. With your town threatened by the most terrible flood ever known, don’t you see that you can do dozens of things to help people in trouble? No opportunity, when foolish crowds line a quivering bridge that is likely to go down if a floating tree crashes against it like that barn did. Oh! if only you’d let us join in with you, we’d find things to do that would make your folks sit up and take notice.”

“And from this day on they would cheer a scout every time they saw one on the street in his khaki suit,” added Billy, with enthusiasm.

The three local boys had stood there and stared as Hugh poured out his words. His manner was so vehement that they must have been thrilled through and through. First of all they turned and looked at each other; then the expression of amazement on their faces began to give way to growing interest that quickly ripened into what began to approach enthusiasm.

“Wash, Teddy, what say? Sounds good to me, I tell you! These fellows have got the right kind of notion. Let’s wake Lawrence up; let’s show these people what a scout is worth when he really tries! Say, Hugh Hardin, and you, too, Billy Worth, we’ll back you up in anything you’ve a mind to try; and here’s my hand on it, too.”

The feeling of exaltation grew by bounds, it seemed. Both Wash and Teddy followed the example set by Tip Lange in squeezing the hands of the boys from Oakvale.

“Good for you!” said Hugh. “We’ll see what we can do to help you out. And first of all we ought to find some way to clear that crowd off the bridge. Some of them are reckless, and others don’t seem to realize the danger they’re in. Let’s start in by acting as though we’ve had orders from your Chief of Police, who ought to be here on the spot, but isn’t. Don’t let a solitary one stay; and tell them all there’s danger of the bridge going out at any minute.”

“Bully idea!” exclaimed Wash Bradford. “Let’s keep together, so we can crowd off any who want to put up a kick and stay. Tell us what to do, Hugh, and we’ll be only too glad to carry it out. I’m tickled to death at the idea of somebody coming to town who’s got some sense and snap about him.”

“Wish we could coax you to stay with us till we got the old crowd started up again, that’s right!” said Teddy McQuade, with sincere admiration in his manner.

The five of them started toward the approach of the bridge.

“There’s Wallie Cramer on the bridge; he’s one of our bunch, too. Shall I pull him along with us, Hugh?” remarked Tip Lange, as they drew near the structure.

“The more scouts you can get together, the better,” admitted the patrol leader.

“‘In union there is strength!’” quoted Billy wisely.

They pushed along the bridge, and were thrilled to find that it did actually tremble from time to time. Hugh also noticed that there was a slight swaying movement that was dreadfully suggestive.

“We can’t clear this old death trap any too soon, it strikes me,” stammered Teddy McQuade, “and I never was much of a swimmer anyhow.”

“That wouldn’t bother you any if so be you went over into that soup,” declared Wash Bradford, who himself looked a trifle “white about the gills,” as Billy would have expressed it, when gazing down at the foaming flood that swept just under the flooring of the bridge used for vehicles and foot passengers, and which was much lower than the railroad span.

Meanwhile Tip Lange had been hurriedly speaking with the fourth scout whom he called Wallie Cramer. Hugh rather liked his looks. He believed that once he understood what they had in view this new addition to their number was likely to prove a valuable ally. He seemed to have the appearance of a fellow possessed of nerve and “get there” qualities.

Apparently whatever Tip Lange told him in that minute of time must have aroused Wallie considerably; for he turned on the two Oakvale scouts and held out his hand to them without the formality of an introduction.

“Count on me to back you up, fellows,” was what Wallie Cramer said. “I was just thinking myself that we were silly to take chances on this tottering old bridge. People can be such fools. Shall we start yelling that it’s going to go out, and scare the bunch half to death? Any old thing ought to pass, so long as we accomplish our object. The end and not the means is what counts.”

“That’s pretty straight,” said Hugh, “but we’ll try to shoo them off first. If they won’t go in that way we might try the scare racket. Just as you say, some people have to be saved against their will.”

So the six boys in khaki continued on toward the opposite end of the bridge until they had passed the last spectator. A number gave them an idle look as if wondering who the two strange boys in khaki might be, since they did not recognize them as belonging to Lawrence.

“Now, close up, and form a solid line across the bridge!” called out Hugh, for the roar of the water whirling about the abutments sounded so loud that it was next to impossible to hear anything spoken in an ordinary tone.

Some of those who were enjoying the thrilling sight of the dizzy flood passing under the flooring of the bridge, on finding that they were being forced to vacate did so good-naturedly. Especially was this the case when they heard some of the scouts saying that the police had ordered the bridge vacated because it was liable to be carried away at any minute. Possibly these parties awakened to the risk they had been running, and doubtless would have continued to run only for the fact of the line of scouts grimly clearing the roadway, and allowing no one to remain.

Now and then some one grumbled and even threatened. At such times Hugh pushed up and gave the man, or boy, as the case might be, to understand that unless he complied with the order, an arrest would swiftly follow.

The concealed threat answered every time. Even a pugnacious fellow who had long been known as the bully of Lawrence, as Hugh afterward learned, on looking straight into that calm yet determined face of Hugh Hardin finally gave his head a little sneering flirt, and as he shuffled along was heard to mutter:

“Guess you ain’t no Lawrence scout, young feller. They ain’t built like you. But it’s so, an’ the old bridge is gettin’ mighty shaky. I’m a-goin’ because I want to, an’ not on ’count of bein’ told to skip out, see?”

Hugh was perfectly satisfied. Little he cared why people abandoned the dangerous span so long as they did do it. And when he reached the near side with his little company, and looking back could see that not a single man, woman, or child remained on the bridge, he felt that for once the scouts of Lawrence had accomplished something worth while.

“Now we must stand guard here, so as to keep it clear!” was what Hugh said to his little band, as they gathered in a group, the Lawrence fellows looking exceedingly proud, as though conscious of having done something worth while at last.

Hardly had they taken up their positions than the same town bully whom they had influenced to leave the threatened span, shoved up in front of Tip Lange.

“Hold on there, you can’t go back on the bridge, Tug Wilson!” the scout told him, as he blocked the way.

“Hang the luck, I tell ye I dropped my belt out there, an’ I jest got to git it. Step aside, Tip Lange, an’ let me pass!” the big overgrown bully said.

“Nobody is to be allowed to go on the bridge again, Tug!” urged the Lange boy.

At that the bully, not accustomed to having his actions questioned, and by a town boy at that, thrust Tip aside with half an effort, and in another instant was seen hurrying along the bridge. He even turned, and, looking back, put out his tongue in a fashion that spoke louder than words could have done concerning his feelings.

Billy Worth, always impulsive, was for dashing after him, and attempting to accomplish by force what words had failed to do.

“Come on, Tip. We’ll get him, all right!” he called out, when a hand was clapped on his shoulder and Hugh shouted in his ear:

“Don’t be foolish, Billy! If he chooses to take the chances that’s no reason you should follow suit. He may never come back again. Look, there is the floating tree coming down with a rush that we feared might strike the bridge and send it over!”

Billy stood in his tracks as though frozen. He realized in that instant how once more his impetuous nature had come close to getting him into a peck of trouble, as had happened on numerous past occasions.

Yes, there was a huge tree floating in the midst of a mass of wreckage, the whole making a terrible ram that, if brought suddenly against the already weakened bridge, must complete its downfall. And, apparently unaware of his danger, Tug Wilson was sauntering carelessly across the span, conscious only of the fact that hundreds of eyes must be centered on him just then.

Voices began to roar out at him. They were sending all sorts of warnings; but it might be that the boy took it for granted these were cheers because of the nerve he was exhibiting; for he never gave a single glance up-river way to where that monster floating tree and its attendant mass of wreckage was bearing down toward the tottering span of the bridge, with the force of a great battering ram.

CHAPTER IV.
AN HONOR TO THE WOLF PATROL.

“He’s crazy!”

“That’ll be the last of Tug Wilson!”

“Got just about one chance in three to skip back!”

These were some of the exclamations that broke from the boys whom energetic Hugh Hardin had gathered around him at the approach to the doomed bridge. Those fellows saw what a foolhardy thing it was the big bully of Lawrence had attempted.

The fact of the matter was that Tug had so long been accustomed to having his way through force that he could not brook opposition. He had been furious at himself for having yielded to the demands of these silly scouts while on the threatened structure; and tempted to defy their authority.

The sudden discovery connected with the loss of his belt had given him a cue; and with the result that he was now out there on the bridge, making his way toward the spot where he could see the object of his search lying on the planks.

Tug Wilson did not often find himself in the spotlight. Public opinion in Lawrence had almost invariably been heavily against him, because he was on the wrong side of every undertaking.

And so, when he realized that all those shouts and half cheers were intended for him, the boy became more reckless than ever. Instead of making as much haste as possible out to his belt, snatching the article up, and sprinting back to safety, he even slackened his pace.

That noisy applause was sweet music to his ears. He wanted to stretch it out just as long as he could. Measuring the distance the approaching floating tree had still to cover, Tug believed he would have time to accomplish his errand and even seconds to spare.

He meant to show those weak-kneed Boy Scouts that there were others who did not know the meaning of the word fear, even though they might not wear khaki suits, and boast of medals and badges galore.

“Hurry, Tug!”

“You’ve got to run, and run fast, old boy!”

Those were possibly some of his boon companions shouting at the top of their voices to him. Tug heard and took notice. He realized that they were genuinely alarmed for his safety. That would mean he might be risking too much; and so Tug did start to running at last.

Most of those who stood ten deep on the shore only knew the boy as a town nuisance, who had given them a great deal of trouble in times past; still just then they were forced to feel more or less admiration for his reckless daring. And so they shouted encouragement, as though they wanted to see him carry his desperate and foolhardy venture through to a successful termination.

The drifting mass was now very near. Many an anxious eye turned toward it, and mental calculations that were made gave the boy but scant time to return to safety before the crash must come.

Tug reached the spot where his belt lay. He made out to snatch it up, but, in his haste, managed to drop it again. Of course that only necessitated another movement, but it broke into the even tenor of his way.

Besides that, in thus bending he seemed to gauge the coming danger at a more acute angle than at any previous time. Hugh judged that something warned Tug he might have made a slight miscalculation that would cost him dear unless he mended his ways and increased his pace.

“Now he’s on the jump!”

“Go it, Tug; you’ve got to hump yourself, old man!”

They were shouting at him again, but if Tug heard he gave no evidence of the fact. He was keeping one eye turned toward the threatening danger, which was in truth the worst thing he could have done, as Hugh might have warned him, if given the chance.

Tug was running faster, probably, than he had ever done before in all his adventurous life. On previous occasions it may have been some angry farmer who was in pursuit of him as a trespasser, but now he was racing with death itself.

The realization of his foolishness must have pierced his heart, for, despite the violent exertions he was making, Hugh could see that his face was very white.

Hugh himself had taken several paces along the planks of the approach to the bridge. If any of his companions noticed the action at all, which is doubtful, as their attention was riveted on the running Tug, they could hardly have guessed what was passing through the mind of the patrol leader.

Suddenly a concerted groan burst from many lips. No cheer captain at a struggle on the gridiron between rival college teams could ever have produced such a concentrated expression of dismay.

What Hugh had been fearing had actually happened. Tug, foolishly dividing his attention between what lay before him and that oncoming mass of wreckage, had stubbed his toe on some projecting plank and been thrown heavily forward.

They heard the crash of his fall. There was a second or two given up to watching for him to scramble to his feet and continue his mad race. Then came another loud groan from the now awed crowd.

Tug never moved. He must have struck his head in falling and lost his senses. Apparently he was now doomed, if, as seemed probable, the mass of floating material about to come into collision with the weakened span carried the bridge down with it.

Then a faint cheer broke forth. It gathered headway, halted again, and after that kept on increasing until it seemed to dominate every other sound.

Billy Worth knew what had happened, for he had seen Hugh leave the spot he had been occupying. Like an arrow from the bow Hugh ran forward, his one design being to seize upon the senseless Tug, and in some way drag or carry him to safety before the bridge fell.

There was a gallant object in this bold attempt—that of saving life—whereas with Tug it had only been entered into so as to indulge in his willfulness and display contempt for authority of all kinds.

Billy held his breath. He was never so frightened in all his life. At first he was tempted to chase after Hugh, but the realization that he could give his chum no assistance whatever, chained him to the spot.

Now the cheering had ceased. Everyone seemed to be stricken with the same realization that it was ill-timed, and might serve to distract the attention of the intended rescuer. So it happens that in a desperately fought game on the diamond, or the football field, the mass of spectators will swing from loud acclaim to utter silence as if by magic.

They saw Hugh pick up the heavy figure of the senseless Tug. Why, the boy must be wonderfully strong to do that, or else given unnatural powers when facing such a desperate condition, the crowd probably thought.

Few of those who looked on believed the brave scout could ever get back in time to avert a catastrophe. Perhaps those who hoped for the best were pinning their faith to the fact that as yet it was not absolutely positive that the bridge would yield to the pressure of the impending collision.

It actually looked as though some unseen power had thrust out a hand to give Hugh the few additional seconds he required in order to make good. Some snag, that might have been a tree-trunk standing upright in the water, caught the oncoming mass and held it suspended for just a brief space of time. Then it overcame the obstacle to its progress and started once more toward the bridge.

That short truce was enough. It enabled Hugh to drag his burden to where eager hands seized upon them both. Thus they were drawn from the approach to the bridge, with every spectator shrieking his or her approval.

And, while this tumult was going on, the floating tree and its attendant mass of wreckage was seen to come against the middle of the endangered span. The entire fabric trembled, and gave way. There was a crash that thrilled every heart, a stupendous shudder, as of keen regret over parting from old and valued friends, and with that the bridge vanished into the maw of the flood.

Where it had stood now lay a horrid gap. Fragments projected from the opposite shore, telling where the bridge had once been anchored. And floating down-stream on the yellow torrents, were parts of the structure, intermingled with the wreckage that had been the means of its dissolution.

Hugh had sank to the ground out of breath as soon as he realized that he was safely off the endangered structure. Some of the scouts bore Tug Wilson away to the nearest house. The boy had had a close call, and everybody was talking about it.

“Who was that young chap?”

“He was a scout, you could see!”

“Must have been a stranger in Lawrence, then, because I know all our boys, and it wasn’t one of them!”

“The bravest thing I ever saw done, barring none!”

“He ought to get a silver medal for that, sure thing!”

Could Hugh have heard these and many other remarks that passed from mouth to mouth among the people on the river bank, he would have blushed with embarrassment. But Hugh was not giving one thought to anything of the sort. He had managed to recover his breath, and was once more on the move. This incident of the stricken bridge was now a thing of the past, and should not engage their attention any further. The present and the future had to be looked after; in other words, the “mill will never grind again with the water that is past.”

Hugh found that a great change had taken place in the scouts of Lawrence. They were now wide-awake and enthusiastic. Those shouts of acclaim had acted like magic to arouse them. All that was necessary now was for someone to tell them what to do; they needed a leader, and every boy would be found willing and eager to do his level best for the good of the stricken people of the flooded town and vicinity.

“What next, Hugh?”

“Show us something you think we ought to tackle!”

“We’re ready for any old job, it doesn’t matter how hard. We’re going to show the Lawrence people that scouts amount to something, after all!”

“Hurrah! you just bet we are, fellows!”

Hugh allowed this enthusiasm to grow spontaneously for a bit. He knew it would assume additional strength, if not nipped too soon. When he considered that the right time had arrived to strike he gathered the little knot of boys about him.

“Then the first thing to be done,” was what Hugh said, “is to get as many scouts together as we can. Scatter around the town, and wherever you can lay hold of a fellow who belongs to your crowd, fetch him here. We’ll need all we can get to try out the many things there are waiting for us to tackle. Will you do this, fellows?”

They would have promised him anything just then, for Hugh had taken the entire lot by storm. They greatly admired the way in which he had dashed out to save the foolish Tug Wilson, who was accounted the worst boy in town; and Hugh had been aware of that fact at the time, which in itself impressed Tip and Wash and the other local scouts as all the more remarkable.

So there was an immediate scattering, and the only one left alongside Hugh was his faithful chum, Billy Worth. That worthy was surveying Hugh earnestly, and nodding his head again and again in approval, as he muttered to himself:

“I just knew it would happen that way. I knew it would be the luckiest day Lawrence ever saw when you struck town, Hugh Hardin. And, my word for it, they’ll never forget the handsome way you yanked that loafer of a Tug Wilson off that bridge. Once more the honors go to the good old Wolf Patrol, to which I’m proud to say I, too, belong!”

CHAPTER V.
SCOUTS TO THE RESCUE.

While waiting there for the return of the envoys sent out to drum up recruits for the rescue squad, Hugh noticed that there was considerable excitement down at the edge of the water.

“Let’s see what’s doing over yonder, Billy,” he remarked.

“I was watching that bunch,” the other scout replied. “As near as I can tell, they’re marking the stage of the water. If only the river got stationary, or began to fall, it’d mean a whole lot to the people of Lawrence, not to mention all the farmers up the valley Tip was telling us about.”

“It must look pretty blue, then,” observed Hugh, as they advanced toward the spot, “because nobody seems to want to give even a whisper of a cheer.”

When they pushed into the crowd they found that an old inhabitant had taken it upon himself to keep “tabs” of the rise of the waters. Perhaps this had been a hobby of the old fellow’s for years, and he was looked on as a sort of authority when any reference was made to past floods.

Some of the people must have recognized in Hugh the boy who had so lately performed that gallant act. They nudged one another, and exchanged low remarks.

“He looks like a brave one, sure enough. Just the sort of chap to carry out a rescue. I’d warrant you now that he’s done the same several times—snatching boys out of holes in the ice, or getting them ashore when they’ve been taken with cramps in swimming!”

“And they say it was him started the movement to chase everybody off the bridge. Only for that there might have been some gone down with it!”

“I asked Tip Lange who he was, and he said it was a boy named Hugh Hardy, or something like that, from over in Oakvale.”

“It would be a good thing for Lawrence if he came here to live. I never felt so much like kissing a boy in all my life as when I saw him drag that foolish Tug Wilson off the dreadful bridge. I only wish my nephew was built like that brave boy.”

It was perhaps fortunate that Hugh did not hear the old maid say this, or even catch the remarks exchanged between the others. He had managed to reach the side of the white-haired old man who was bending over a marked stick which he had fastened to a post that stood deep in the yellow water.

“What do the marks show, sir?” asked Hugh.

The old man glanced up at him. Perhaps he, too, suspected that this manly looking young chap in the khaki suit and with the raincoat over his arm was the same boy who had so recently performed that gallant deed. At any rate he replied without the least hesitation:

“Now a foot and two inches above the highest record made in forty years. I know, because I’ve been keeping tally that long.”

“But how fast is it rising now?” continued Hugh.

“At a terribly rapid pace, I am sorry to tell you. In the last hour it has come up almost a foot. There will be great woe and desolation all through the valley. I feel sorry for the people living further away from Lawrence. It is bad enough here; but we are a community, and no one need suffer while others are able to lend a helping hand. But the isolated farmers and the little hamlets will be in desperate straits.”

It did the old veteran’s heart credit, this concern for others. Hugh, too, was thinking of those who had no one to lean upon. He wished some means could be found whereby he could start out on the flood that ran for many miles back up the valley, so as to rescue those helpless ones caught in the sea of raging waters.

Once again he and Billy went back to the place where they had promised to wait for the coming of the local scouts. All the while Hugh’s active brain was trying to lay plans, although until he knew just what the nature of their resources might be it was next to impossible to settle on these definitely.

“There comes Tip!” exclaimed Billy, who had evidently been keeping a watchful lookout all the while.

“And he’s got two others with him, I notice,” added the patrol leader. “Strikes me we haven’t run across either of them before, Billy.”

“They’re new ones to me, all right, which shows that Tip is all to the good, and has done his part. If the rest can double up, we’ll have a fair-sized bunch to hustle things some.”

Tip pushed toward them. He must have been telling his companions a lot about Hugh as they came along, for the eyes of the two boys were glued upon the stranger continually, and they shook hands at being hurriedly introduced as though proud of the privilege of knowing this energetic comrade from another town.

“There’s Wash coming, and he’s got the Smith twins with him, all right!” Tip remarked immediately afterward. “That means four recruits, and more to hear from. We ought to scare up some sixteen or twenty fellows, I should think. Used to have more’n three full patrols in this old town; but things got so bad there were only seven at the last meeting, and some of them even said they’d be hanged if they’d bother coming out to such a dull affair again.”

Others of the local scouts now began to heave in sight. Those who had started forth with the intention of rounding up others had certainly exerted themselves to the limit; for there was hardly a single fellow who failed to bring back one new addition to the rescue squad.

They had managed to enthuse the others to a considerable extent, too, in some way or other. Possibly that thrilling event of the bridge had served them all for the purpose.

When Tip announced that the last scout who had been sent out was now back, and that they had their full quota on deck, Hugh counted noses.

“Seventeen of us, all told, fellows!” he declared. “It strikes me that ought to be enough to do a heap of work. Over in Oakvale we’ve managed to get there when we couldn’t count on more than half this number to do things. It depends pretty much on the vim you put into your labor.”

“Tell us what we ought to tackle first, and then see us dig!” one of the newer arrivals called out.

The spirit was spreading fast, just as a trace of yeast placed in a lump of dough soon impregnates the entire batch. Those boys who helped Hugh and Billy clear the bridge realized how sweet it was to be possessed of a little authority. Somehow, people had seemed to respect them, possibly for the first time. And then that brave act of Hugh Hardin had won such golden opinions from the citizens that it was hoped they would cover the whole scout movement as with a blanket.

“I want to tell you, fellows,” Hugh continued impressively, “there’s going to be a plenty to do for all of us—perhaps much more than we can manage—before this flood goes down again. You’ve got a glorious chance to make good. There never was such a splendid one for any scouts that I ever heard about. It’s up to you to take advantage of it; and if you seize the opportunity you can depend on it, after it’s all over, scout reputation will have soared to top notch in Lawrence.”

“Hurrah!”

“Good for you, Hugh! That’s the stuff we want to hear!”

“They’ll be taking off their hats to you, fellows,” Hugh told them in his impressive way, “and there isn’t anything within reason you might ask for but what the people of this burg would give it to you!

“Our chance has surely come, boys! Let’s be like the busy little bee, and improve each shining hour, only there’s nothing shining under that dark sky.”

“Would you mind if I said a few words to our fellows, Hugh?” asked Tip Lange, who, although he had not mentioned the fact to his new-found friends, must have been in some position of authority in the now nearly defunct Boy Scout Troop of Lawrence.

“Talk as much as you want to, Tip,” replied the other, “only we must organize our work on a systematic basis soon.”

Thereupon Tip waved his arms until all the fellows had clustered around him. He had stepped on a box that happened to be lying nearby. It looked as though some labor agitator might be about to “spout,” and try to get the honest workers to go out on a strike.

“Boys,” began Tip, in his most impressive tone, “this comrade from Oakvale has had a heap of experience in building up a scout troop. Some of us have read about what they’ve done over in his town, and let me tell you it all reflects great credit on Hugh Hardin, assistant scout master.”

“Hear! hear!”

“Good for you, Tip; he sure deserves all that and more.”

“Keep still and let Tip do the talking; he’s got something he wants to tell us, don’t you understand?”

Again Tip started in after these remarks had ceased.

“It’s a bit of good fortune that brought Hugh Hardin and his chum Billy Worth to Lawrence just at this time. Only for what he did at the bridge there might have been a considerable loss of life, for some of those fools would have stayed out there till it was too late to get off. That’s a fair sample of the way Hugh Hardin does things. And, fellows, we want him to show us how. You can’t see his wings, but all the same I reckon that he’s the good angel that’s been sent here to help us out of the pit we’ve been wallowin’ in so long.”

Some of the boys must have considered that Tip was waxing eloquent in delivering this harangue, for they insisted on giving him a hearty cheer. When the noise had again subsided, the orator continued, evidently fully in sympathy with his subject, because he had taken a violent liking for Hugh.

“Now, I want you to make me a promise, fellows,” continued Tip. “It’s only right and fair that if Hugh stands by us and does all he can to land the Lawrence Troop back in the place it once occupied that we ought to carry out his orders as unhesitatingly as if he were at the head of our troop. Isn’t that right?”

The answer was unanimous, and given with a roar of approval that left no doubt in Hugh’s mind about the ability of these Lawrence scouts to attain their goal if once they could be given a fair start.

“All right,” said Tip. “That sounds good to me. Now, every fellow who faithfully promises to look up to Hugh Hardin as our temporary scout master, and to obey his commands as such, upon his honor as a scout, raise his right hand!”

He looked around, and seemingly counted the hands that went aloft.

“Fourteen, which, with my own, covers every Lawrence scout present. That makes it unanimous. I therefore introduce Hugh Hardin to the boys of this town as the temporary scout master of the troop. And now, Hugh, you take things in hand. No yelling, fellows; we’ve got too serious business in hand to waste our breath that way. Set your jaws together like you meant to ride roughshod over every obstacle. That’s the way things are done, I take it.”

Hugh was entirely satisfied. All preliminaries having now been arranged, he felt that they could “get down to brass tacks,” as Billy called it, without further delay.

“I’ve noticed, to begin with,” he remarked to the eager scouts who clustered around him, “that the lower part of the town is already being submerged. There are poor people there who will lose everything unless some one helps them ferry their bedding and clothes and such things as the water would ruin to higher ground. Now, I’m going to lay you all off in batches so you can work better in company.”

He thereupon picked out three boys who were to be in charge of Wash Bradford, and another lot whom Teddy McQuade would boss.

“Get hold of any rowboats you can,” Hugh told them. “If that’s impossible make a strong raft that can be pushed with poles. Then go down in the part of town that is under water and do all you can to rescue people and save their stuff for them. In that way there will be many to look upon the garb of a scout as a badge of honor, and always to be considered a mark for their respect. And keep working as long as you can stand it. There’ll be plenty for all of us to do, never fear.”

That took about half of their number, or eight in all. The two detachments hurried away, conferring as to the best means for carrying out the part of Hugh’s scheme entrusted to their charge.

One of the parties managed to get hold of a large rowboat in some fashion. It may have leaked to some extent, but scouts would know how to make temporary repairs, and with this boat they were in a position to move around and do considerable in the way of helping those who had been caught by the rising waters in the homes they had hesitated about deserting to the mercy of the flood.

The other boys were compelled to resort to a raft; but Teddy McQuade proved to be a clever manager, once his energies had been fully aroused; and he remembered where there would be plenty of just the kind of pine boards they would need for a dandy raft. Nails and a hatchet were procured, also some stout clothes lines to serve as a check should the current prove too strong for their clumsy means of passage along the main street that was now five feet deep in water.

Of course, Hugh did not intend to waste any time in seeing how these two detachments carried out their orders. He had other work to do. There were still nine of them remaining. These he divided up into three groups consisting of the same number of members. Tip Lange and Billy he kept along with him; for he had a plan in his mind that he meant to try and put into execution later on.

When the other six had also been dispatched to start on the work of accomplishing such things as they could find to do for the unfortunates, Hugh turned to Tip.