第 15 页

The thunder and lightning had almost entirely ceased, and the wind had fallen, leaving the creek as smooth as a millpond; but the rain still poured with a steady persistency that threatened a long continuance.

Ned did not mind this much. The air and the water were both warm, and he felt fairly comfortable.

He was more concerned for his companions than for himself. It would be a difficult matter, he reflected, for Randy to manage the two canoes and the tent.

He wondered how Clay and Nugget were faring—whether they still remained on the island, or had ventured to embark in search of their companions, now that the violence of the storm was past.

Meanwhile Ned was not oblivious to his own danger. While these things were passing through his mind, he was striving to guide the log toward shore by paddling with his left hand and leg. At first he seemed to make no progress.

The current was running swift, and the log remained obstinately in mid-channel. The flood was rising, too. Plain proof of it was seen in the débris that floated on all sides—patches of grass and bushes, broken limbs, and here and there a fence rail.

The sky was still overcast with dark clouds, and the gloom behind him showed Ned no trace of Randy or the canoes. He worked harder and harder to gain the shore, and finally he discovered to his great delight that he was getting the log under control.

It steadily pursued a diagonal course, veering constantly nearer to the left shore. Occasionally a swirl of the current pitched it toward midstream, but a little perseverance put it right again.

The scene of Ned's capsize was now a good mile in the rear, and he was satisfied that he would reach the bank in a short time—unless some unforseen event occurred.

This was exactly what destiny had in store for the lad. A moment later a sharp bend—unseen until too late—cast the log in the very center of the creek, and while the sting of this misfortune was still fresh, Ned heard a dull booming noise—the certain herald of either rapids or a dam. The sound, though not loud, came from no great distance.

Its subdued tone showed that if rapids were ahead, they were not very bad ones; if a dam, that it could not be high, else the falling water would make a greater noise.

But Ned had no desire to tempt his fate in either. With what strength was left in his numbed limbs he tried hard to drive the log shoreward.

Had a little more time been granted him he might have succeeded, but the ruthless current swept him on with unceasing speed, and when the log was still fifty feet from the left bank he saw the smooth stretch of water before him merge into a seething line of turbulent waves and tawny foam.

The rude outline of a mill suddenly appeared on the left, proving conclusively the existence of a dam.

All hope of reaching the shore was gone now. It was some slight consolation to know that the dam was not a high one, and Ned boldly faced the ordeal by swinging the log around until it pointed straight to the line of foam. Then he hugged it closely to him and waited.

The suspense was brief. One swift rush to the brink, a quick slide down a glistening slant of water—and then a headlong plunge into the seething waves.

The log rushed on nobly, now under the billows, now high on their crest until it struck a rock endwise, and turned broadside in the twinkling of an eye. Ned parted company with it then and there—he couldn't help it—and struggled on alone. He was in comparatively shallow water now, and though the force of the current and the waves was terrific, he finally gained a foothold on the slippery rocks, and waded waist deep toward shore.

The water soon shallowed, and with a grateful heart he staggered out on a stony beach.

He sat down for a moment to recover from his exertions, and then went up the slope to the building, which was only a few yards away. It proved to be a saw mill, and even in the somber gloom Ned could see that it was very ancient and rickety, and had probably not been in use for many years.

The locality was a wild and lonely one. Steep wooded hills lay on both sides of the creek.

Further investigation showed Ned that the saw mill abutted on the corner of the dam, and that a narrow sluiceway conducted the water to the machinery. He could hear the splash and gurgle of the torrent as it swept under the rotting timbers of the mill and rushed on to freedom through the wasteway beyond.

As the depth of the latter was uncertain Ned crossed the sluice by a shaky plank that spanned the sides, and found himself among thick bushes at the foot of a steep hill. He was tempted to go back and seek shelter in the mill, for his limbs ached with weariness, and his wet clothes chilled him at every step.

But first it was important that Randy should be found, so he pushed along the edge of the creek in the rain until he obtained an open view of the channel for some distance ahead.

The first glimpse rewarded him for his pains. He spied a bulky dark object about fifty yards up stream. It was approaching at a rapid pace and hugging the shore closely.

Ned put two fingers in his mouth and emitted a shrill, piercing whistle. It was answered in a similar manner, and a moment later the dark mass resolved itself into Randy, the tent, and the two canoes.

"By jove, I'm glad to see you," exclaimed Randy in husky tones, as Ned helped him to land. "I thought you were a goner this time, old fellow."

Ned hastily related his experience.

"It was a close shave," he concluded; "too close to be pleasant. But how did you manage to get here with this heavy load?"

Randy laughed. "I had a time of it, I can tell you. I jumped out in the water—it was only knee deep on that island—and dragged the whole tent on the foredeck of my canoe. Then I paddled after the Pioneer, and caught up with it near another submerged bar, where both the canoes stuck again.

"This gave me a chance to right the Pioneer and throw most of the water out of it. Then I slung the tent across both of them, tied the cockpits together, and started off. Of course I could only paddle on the right side, but I got along fairly well. The best of it is that I found your paddle on the way down. The lantern is gone, but I have a candle here, if we need it. It was in the pocket of my rubber coat."

"That's exactly what we do need," replied Ned. "It will help us to find some dry wood in the mill. But first of all we must drag the canoes and the tent on shore."

This proved a difficult task, but it was finally accomplished. The canoes were turned bottom up, and the tent was stretched over a clump of bushes. Then Ned led the way down stream to the saw mill.

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CHAPTER XX

MR. DUDE MOXLEY

When the boys reached the corner of the dam Ned produced his waterproof match box and lighted the candle. This enabled them to cross the sluiceway in safety, and after noting with some alarm that the creek was still coming up rapidly, they entered the saw mill at the upper end, where the floor was level with the breast work of the dam—or rather a few feet above it.

The lower end was twelve or fifteen feet higher than the wasteway, and was supported by an open network of huge beams.

With the greatest caution the boys scrutinized their surroundings. The first floor contained nothing but débris—heaps of sawdust, strips of bark, and a few partially sawed logs. The machinery had all been removed.

There was great danger of falling through into the swirling torrent beneath, for in several places the flooring lacked entire planks, and those that remained were loose and rotten.

The light of the candle revealed a rickety flight of steps in the upper right hand corner, and without hesitation the boys mounted to the second floor. This apartment was in remarkably good condition. Not a drop of rain had penetrated through the roof or sides.

The floor was strewn with sawdust and shavings. A carpenter's bench stood on each side, and in the center was a huge old-fashioned sheet iron stove, with a pipe running straight to the roof. The room was lighted by three windows—one at each end, and one on the side facing the creek.

"This is what I call luck," exclaimed Ned. "A stove ready and waiting for us, and fuel lying about in plenty! We won't have to endure our wet clothes long."

"The owner may object to our taking possession, though," said Randy. "We don't want to get in any more scrapes."

"No one but a crusty old brute would refuse to let us dry ourselves," replied Ned. "And besides, I don't believe the owner lives anywhere within a mile. He probably uses this work room in winter—when there is hardly any farm work to do—and doesn't come near it in summer. The reason I think so is because the tools have all been taken away."

Ned's supposition was probably correct. At all events the boys did not scruple to make a blazing fire in the stove, and very pleasant the warmth felt after their long tussle with the storm.

Ned was soaked through and through in spite of his rubber coat, but Randy was only wet to the middle. They stood as near as possible to the stove, and so powerful was the heat of the wood fire, that in half an hour their clothes were entirely dry.

It was rather a risky undertaking, but both lads were hardy and vigorous and had no fear of taking cold.

As the fire burnt itself out the pale light of day shone through the windows. Friday morning had dawned.

"Still raining a little," said Ned, "and the sky is cloudy. We must start up the creek without delay now. My mind will feel a good deal easier when I know that Clay and Nugget are safe. They must be feeling pretty wretched if they stayed on the island all night in the rain."

"I don't think they would venture to leave after the directions you gave them," returned Randy. "Unless the island became flooded. I never thought of that before."

Ned walked quickly to the side window and looked out.

"The water is still on the rise," he said gloomily. "It is backing into the wasteway and crawling up the slope toward the mill. You can hardly see anything of the dam. To tell the truth, Randy, I believe the creek is quite high enough to cover that island."

Randy turned pale.

"What has become of the boys then?" he asked. "Could they have passed down the creek while we were drying ourselves?"

"Hardly," said Ned. "You forget the dam. But pull on your coat and we'll be off. It's not raining enough to hurt us."

Randy hastily obeyed, and after satisfying themselves that the lingering embers of the fire could do no damage, the boys went down the shaking flight of steps to the lower floor. With great care they crossed the rotten planks, and were half way to the door when a burly figure darkened the threshold—a roughly dressed man with a gun on his shoulder and a partially filled grain sack in his hand.

The boys stood still, half frightened, half astonished, but the stranger came quickly forward, lowering his gun as he did so.

"Good morning, my lads," he said in a gruff, mocking voice, "so the storm has driven you to my humble retreat. You are welcome—quite welcome. Make yourselves at home. This is an unexpected honor. I am sorry I was absent when you called."

The boys exchanged startled glances. There was an unpleasant ring to the stranger's voice that boded no good intentions.

"If you own this mill we are much obliged to you for the use of it," said Ned. "We got wet in the storm and came here to dry ourselves. We took the liberty of making a fire in the stove up stairs."

As he spoke he moved toward the door with Randy at his heels.

"Not so fast," muttered the man, pushing the boys forcibly back. "You can stay a while and keep me company. I've taken a fancy to you chaps, and want to get better acquainted with you. Over there is the portion of this domicile that I occupy at present. It ain't very palatial, but I reckon I can give you a log to sit on."

There was no choice but to obey, and the boys reluctantly crossed the rickety floor to the lower corner of the mill. Here was a great heap of sawdust, and two or three logs. The man sat down on the former—between the boys and the door—and motioned his companions to one of the logs.

It was now fully daylight, and the stranger's position, facing one of the broad windows on the creek side of the mill, gave the boys an opportunity to examine him closely.

He wore a dirty, greasy suit of tweed, patched here and there with different colored cloth. His shoes gaped at the toes, and his coat collar was buttoned tightly about his throat—no doubt in default of a shirt.

His face might have been handsome at one time, but it was now marred and brutalized by a life of dissipation. His nose and cheeks were purple, his eyes bloodshot, and a matted growth of brown hair strayed from beneath a ragged slouch hat.

Little wonder that Ned and Randy cowered fearfully before the gaze of this evil looking ruffian. They knew now that he was a tramp, and never before had they seen a worse specimen.

It suddenly occurred to Ned that this was the same man who had passed the camp in a boat on the previous night, and the knowledge by no means added to his peace of mind.

Immediately on sitting down the stranger had taken a short black pipe from his pocket, and filled and lighted it. But during the performance of this operation he was not oblivious to the keen scrutiny of his companions.

"I hope you chaps will know me again," he said in a sarcastic tone. "Or were you just admiring my beauty? Dude Moxley is what my friends all call me, because I dress with such taste, and take such good care of my complexion."

Suddenly changing his voice he demanded gruffly, "Where are the other two chaps?"

"Why—why—how did you know there were two more?" exclaimed Ned, thrown off his guard by the question.

Mr. Moxley smiled complacently. "I seen the canoes and the tent up yonder along the shore. As the canoes happened to be empty I judged the rest of the party were on behind somewhere. I just guessed at their bein' two more of you, but it seems I hit it."

This was a very lame explanation, but the boys were too greatly worried to notice its defects.

"I may as well tell him all," thought Ned. "Perhaps he will relent and let us go."

Acting on this impulse he related the occurrences of the previous night, and described the perilous situation of Clay and Nugget on the island.

"Won't you let us go and look for our companions now?" he asked. "If the island is flooded they are in great danger."