“Say, can’t we borrow a boat from somewhere and row over there?” Dan demanded, made anxious by the long wait. “Dorman Clark keeps a motor boat.”
“But his place is two miles down stream,” Mr. Holloway reminded the Cubs.
“It would take us longer than thirty minutes to get there, launch the boat, and beat our way upstream to Rabb Island,” Brad objected.
Mr. Holloway nodded in agreement. “Our best bet is to wait here for the Coast Guard launch,” he decided, “even though it’s hard to remain idle.”
Little more was said by the Cubs although their anxiety was far from relieved. Wandering up and down the shore, they repeatedly checked the level of the water. Slowly but steadily, the river was creeping higher.
“Two years ago when the floods came, Rabb Island was almost entirely submerged,” Brad remarked, gazing anxiously at Mr. Holloway. “Do you think there is danger it might be covered again?”
“The river was at least two feet higher then, Brad. There’s no immediate danger of the entire island being flooded.”
“We’re not positive Mr. Hatfield and Chips reached the island, though the signals appeared to come from there,” Mack remarked. “If we interpreted the message right, something happened to the boat.”
“That’s what I can’t figure,” said Dan. “Do you suppose it sprung a leak?”
“Possible, but hardly likely,” the Den Dad replied. “That boat was tight as a drum. I caulked the seams myself.”
“Hey!” Brad suddenly shouted. “I see a light on the river!”
The other Cubs turned to gaze where he pointed. Far across the water they could see a bright, moving light.
“It’s the Coast Guard launch,” Mr. Holloway said in relief.
Plowing slowly upstream against the turbulent waters, the launch kept to midstream, churning on through the darkness toward Rabb Island.
Their minds now partially relieved, the Cubs nevertheless waited in suspense along the shore, wondering what might be amiss.
Finally, after at least another twenty minutes, the rescue craft was seen to put off from the island.
“She’s heading this way!” Brad observed.
A few minutes later, churning up spume, the launch halted well beyond the shallows opposite the submerged Holloway dock. In short order a small boat was lowered. Aboard were Sam Hatfield, Chips, Mrs. Dustin, her two small children, and a very bedraggled dog.
“What happened?” Mr. Holloway demanded as he and the Cubs waded out to pull the boat up onto land.
“Well, it’s quite a story,” the Cub leader replied, carefully assisting Mrs. Dustin from the boat. “Before I go into it, suppose we get this lady and her children into the house. They’ve had a harrowing time of it on the island.”
Mrs. Dustin brushed aside a wisp of damp hair which had blown across her drawn, care-lined face. She wore a man’s coat over her housedress, but the latter was soaked from the knees down and clung to her as she walked.
“My husband went to Webster City late this afternoon and couldn’t get back,” she explained. “Then the river came up frightfully fast. It flooded our little place, ruining everything. The children and I had to take refuge on the highest point of the island. I don’t know what we’d have done, if help hadn’t come when it did.”
Mrs. Holloway slipped an arm about the woman’s shaking shoulders as she led her and the two small children toward the house.
“Don’t worry about anything now,” she comforted. “You’ll spend the night here and we’ll get word to your husband. We have plenty of room.”
Having delivered the passengers safely, the Coast Guard launch now prepared to pull away, but not before Sam Hatfield and Mr. Holloway both had thanked the crew for the timely rescue.
“It’s just part of our job,” the boatswain replied carelessly. “Glad to have been of service.”
After the launch had disappeared in the darkness, Brad and the other Cubs gathered about Mr. Hatfield, urging him to relate what had occurred on Rabb Island.
“What became of Mr. Holloway’s boat?” Dan asked. “And why was it necessary to send the distress message?”
“Well—” the Cub leader hesitated, glancing briefly at Chips. “Oh, we had a little bad luck. The boat broke away after we left it on shore.”
“It wasn’t bad luck exactly,” Chips corrected quietly. “I was careless. Mr. Hatfield told me to fasten the boat, and I did tie it to a dock post—only not securely enough.”
“It wasn’t really your fault, Chips,” the Cub leader said generously.
“Yes, it was, sir. I should have been more careful.”
“Accidents can happen to anyone, Chips.”
“What became of the boat?” Dan asked although he knew the question was a rather useless one.
“Well, it drifted off somewhere downstream,” the Cub leader replied. “If we’re lucky, it may lodge some place fairly close. Then again, this swift current is likely to carry it miles. If any damage is done I’ll either buy a new boat or see that it is properly repaired.”
“Now don’t give that a thought,” the Den Dad cut in. “We’ll find the boat tomorrow.” He turned to Chips, clapping him on the shoulder. “Don’t look so glum, lad. No one blames you for the accident.”
“It’s not just the boat I’m thinking about,” the boy answered. “The Indian headdress was lying on the seat when it floated away.”
“Then there goes the Den’s chance to win first prize at the Pack exhibition!” exclaimed Red. “Gosh! After all the work we did on that headdress!”
“How did you happen to lose it?” Fred asked in a discouraged voice.
Chips explained that he had left the feather piece lying on the boat seat when he and Mr. Hatfield had gone to the rescue of Mrs. Dustin and her two children. Upon their return, both the boat and the headdress had floated away.
“We’ll never enter it in the competition now,” he ended in disgust. “The boat may be found, but the headdress is sure to be a mess after lying out all night in the weather.”
Loss of the handicraft article upon which the Den had pinned hope of victory in the Pack exhibition, thoroughly discouraged the Cubs. However, because Chips already blamed himself for the loss, they said little about it.
“There’s an outside chance the boat may have lodged at the Fulton bridge, a quarter of a mile down river,” Mr. Hatfield remarked thoughtfully. “The current would carry it in that direction. I think I’ll drive that way on my way home.”
Brad and Dan immediately sought permission to accompany the Cub leader.
“I’ll be glad to have you,” Mr. Hatfield said. “Better telephone your parents and tell them not to bother to pick you up. I’ll drive you home after we’ve looked for the boat.”
Eager to be off, Mr. Hatfield borrowed a lantern from Midge’s father. With Brad and Dan, he then selected the main highway which would take the car across the Fulton bridge.
“It’s too late for us to make an extensive search for the boat tonight,” he remarked as they drove along. “The chances are it will drift miles from Rabb Island. All the same, we’ll keep our eyes peeled.”
Under the pale light of the moon, the boys caught occasional glimpses of the racing river. At the bridge where rolling waves dashed against the stone supports, Mr. Hatfield halted the car for a better view.
Gazing down over