第 23 页

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CHAPTER XXXII

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 débris, to add spice to the enjoyment.

Here and there, where the creek passed 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 shore 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," assented 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 mass 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 cockleshell 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.

He repeated this twice, and then all of the group began to shout and wave their hands.

The boys glanced at one another in amazement. What was the meaning of such an idiotic performance?

Suddenly Ned turned pale.

"Great Scott!" he exclaimed. "The dam must have broken, and those people can see the flood somewhere up the creek. They are warning us to get out of the way."

The boys instinctively turned to look behind, but the first glance revealed no cause for alarm.

"All right so far," cried Randy. "The current seems to be getting swifter though, and I actually believe the water is rising."

He had hardly spoken when Ned uttered a startled cry. "Look! look! there it comes!"

Around the sharp curve above swept a sloping volume of water, yellow with mud and foam, black with timber and uprooted trees. It came on with a rush and a swelling roar, and as the frightened boys watched it with terrible fascination, a section of a wooden bridge painted red hove in sight.

The imminence of the danger drove the Jolly Rovers into a helpless panic. Even Ned was frightened out of his self possession.

The right shore was the nearest, and the boys paddled for it with furious strokes, not remembering for an instant that it offered the least chance of safety. The swift current whirled the canoes down stream for nearly a hundred yards before it would suffer them to glide into the calmer waters along the bank.

Randy and Clay, being on the outer side, had more to overcome, and were swept beyond their companions. Ned and Nugget drifted against a precipitous wall of rock that rose twenty feet before its surface was broken by the tree or brush.

They looked hopelessly around them, vainly seeking a chance of escape, while louder and louder in their ears sounded the hissing roar of the oncoming flood. At the base of the cliff the water was already boiling and tossing.

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CHAPTER XXXIII

UNDERGROUND CRUISE

"Paddle on, quick!" cried Ned in an agony of fear. "We may reach a break in the cliff."

Nugget, who was half a canoe's length in advance had sufficiently presence of mind to obey. He paddled off with desperate strokes, and Ned crowded him closely.

A few yards down stream the wall of rock jutted out slightly and then receded. As the canoes rounded this a great heaving wave—the vanguard of the flood—tossed them high on its crest and cast them, like a stone from a catapult, straight toward a black, semi-circular hole in the base of the cliff. A furious current swept in the same direction, and even had the boys realized the nature of this new peril they could have done nothing to help themselves.

Nugget dropped his paddle with a cry of terror and clutched the combing. The next instant he shot into the gaping hole, scraping his cap from his head by contact with the top, and disappeared from view.

Ned was dazed by what he had just witnessed, and his turn came before he realized it. He had hardly time to twist his paddle around longwise and duck his head when the current sucked him under the cliff. He heard a quick, grating noise, and then the dim gleam of light faded, leaving him in utter darkness.

The canoe pitched and tossed dizzily, and by the cold air that surged on his face, and the spray that spattered him, Ned knew that he was moving at rapid speed. Suddenly a cry rang in his ears with the sharpness of a pistol shot and reverberated through the cavern. An instant later he felt a violent concussion on the right, and reaching out his hand he touched the combing of Nugget's canoe.

He clung to it with all his might and managed to keep the two canoes side by side as the current whirled them on through the darkness.

Nugget was not aware of this at first, for he uttered another piercing cry for help. It was impossible to carry on any conversation owing to the confused booming noise made by the water, but Ned leaned to one side and shouted at the top of his voice: "Cheer up, Nugget. I'm here beside you. We'll find a way out of this."

Nugget must have heard and understood, for he was silent after that.

It was characteristic of Ned to cheer his companion. He was thoroughly unselfish, and was always more concerned about others than himself. In this case his consoling words meant nothing. He was still dazed by the overwhelming calamity that had befallen him, and had not begun to realize its extent.

He remembered the lantern that was in the forward hatch and the match safe in his pocket, but the former was out of reach and the latter was on his right side. He could not get it with his left hand, and he was afraid to trust the holding of the canoes to Nugget. So a light was out of the question at the present time.

The painful suspense of the next few minutes made them seem like hours. The canoes whirled on and on with a dizzy swaying motion, but not the faintest ray of light broke the intensity of the darkness.

Ned cautiously thrust his paddle out to the left, and it struck something hard with a ringing noise. He did not repeat the experiment for fear of upsetting.

All at once the roar of the water seemed to deepen, and the canoes settled into a swift, steady rush that made the air fairly sing about Ned's ears. What followed was never very clear to him afterward. He remembered a dash of icy spray in his face, and then a terrible collision that landed him somewhere on his hands and knees.

He was stunned and dizzy for a little while, and when finally he staggered to his feet his first thought was of Nugget. He called him by name, and a hollow groan was the only reply. Even that was better than silence, and with a trembling hand Ned drew out his match box and struck a light.

Both canoes lay upset at his feet, and between them was Nugget leaning on his elbows with a very dazed expression on his face.

Three more matches enabled Ned to right the Pioneer, procure his lantern, and light it. Then, seeing that Nugget was uninjured, he scrutinized his surroundings more closely.

He understood at once what had happened. The underground stream made a sharp curve at this point, and the force of the current had thrown the canoes far out on a sandy beach. From above, the yellow flood came roaring and tossing through a passage some twenty feet wide, and nearly the same in height. Below the angle it plunged on under the same conditions.

The beach was about ten yards long, and sloped back half that distance to a slimy wall of rock. On the opposite side of the stream the wall fell sheer into the water, and overhead was a jagged roof that glittered and sparkled in the rays of the lantern.

Ned formed his own conclusions as to the nature of the place, and they were not entirely unfavorable, for the speed and impetuosity of the muddy stream had given him a good deal to think about. He dismissed his reflections until a more favorable time, and placing the lantern on the sand turned to Nugget, who was in a pitiable state of fright.

"Are you hurt any, old fellow?" asked Ned, "or only a little stunned?"

"Oh, I don't know, I don't know," moaned Nugget. "What awful place are we in, Ned? It seems like a dream. I hardly remember what happened. And where are Clay and Randy?"

"I hope they are safe," replied Ned evasively. "In fact, I really think they are, Nugget. They landed some distance below us, and no doubt found a place to climb out before the flood caught them."

"And what happened to us, Ned? Didn't the current drag us into a hole in the cliff?"

"Yes," said Ned, "that's it exactly, and we are now in an underground cavern. Don't be alarmed," he added quickly, noting the sudden pallor on his companion's face, "our situation is not so terrible after all. Caverns of this sort are always found among limestone hills, and they usually have two outlets. This one is no exception to the rule, and I'll tell you why I think so. In the first place you must remember that the creek was nearly four feet high before that dam broke. The extra volume of water is what makes this terrific current through the cavern and the very fact that the water goes on through without damming up proves to me that it has an outlet.