Tom Slades Double Dare | Page 6

it's all over. We
could never swim in this torrent."

"Where do you suppose this tree came from?" Roy asked.
"From the top of the mountain for all I know," Tom answered. "Watch
your step and follow me. We're in luck."
"You don't call this luck, do you?" Westy asked.
"Watch me, I can go scout-pace on the trunk," said Hervey, handing
himself along.
"Never mind any of those stunts," said Tom; "you watch what you're
doing and follow me."
"The pleasure is mine," said Hervey; "a scout is always--whoa! There's
where I nearly dipped the dip. Watch me swing over this branch. I bet
you can't hang by your knees--like this."
There are some people who think that trees were made to bear fruit and
to afford shade, and to supply timber. But that is a mistake; they were
made for Hervey Willetts. They were the scenes of his gayest stunts.
He had even been known to dive under the water and shimmy up a tree
that was reflected there. He even claimed that he got a splinter in his
hand, so doing! Upside down or wedged across a channel under water,
trees were all the same to Hervey Willetts. He lived in trees. He knew
nothing whatever about the different kinds of trees and he could not tell
spruce from walnut. But he could hang by one leg from a rotten branch,
the while playing a harmonica. He was for the boy scout movement,
because he was for movement generally. As long as the scouts kept
moving, he was with them. He had a lot of merit badges but he did not
know how many. "He should worry," as Roy said of him.
"Here's a good one--known as the jazzy-jump," he exclaimed. "Put your
left foot...."
"You put your left foot on the trunk and don't let go the branches and
follow me," said Tom, soberly. "Do you think this is a picnic we're
on?"

"After you, my dear Tomasso," said Hervey, blithely. "I guess we're not
going to be killed after all, hey?"
"I'm afraid not," said Tom.
"I wish I had an ice cream soda, I know that," said Roy.
"Careful how you step ashore now," Tom said.
"Terra cotta at last," said Roy; "I mean terra firma."
"Jump it," called Hervey, who was behind Roy.
Thus, emerging from a peril, which none but Tom had fully realized,
they found themselves on the comparatively low shore of the cove. The
tree, itself a victim of the storm, poked its branches up out of the black
water like specters, which seemed the more grewsome as they swayed
in the wind. These had guided the little party to shore.
So it was that that once stately denizen of the lofty forest had paused
here to make a last stand against the storm which had uprooted it. So it
was that this fallen monarch, friend of the scouts, had contrived to
check somewhat the mad rush of water out of their beloved lake, and
had guided four of them to safety.
CHAPTER V
WIN OR LOSE
The dying mission of that noble tree suggested a thought to Tom. The
water from the lake was pouring over it, though checked somewhat by
the tree and the boat. If this tree, firmly wedged in place, could be made
the nucleus of a mass of wreckage, the flood might be effectually
checked, temporarily, at least. One thing, a moment's glance at the
condition of the cove showed all too certainly what must have
happened at the road-crossing. That the little rustic bridge there could
have withstood the first overwhelming rush of the flood was quite
unthinkable. Berry's garage too, perched on the edge of the hollow,

must have been swept away.
[Illustration: THE TREE POKED ITS BRANCHES UP OUT OF THE
BLACK WATER AND GUIDED THEM TO SAFETY. Tom Slade's
Double Dare. Page 25]
[Illustration: (Transcriber's note: Map including Black Lake, the rustic
bridge, and Berry's Garage.)]
And where was the lumbering old bus? That was the question now. If it
had been a motor bus its lights might have foretold the danger. But it
was one of those old-fashioned horse-drawn stages which are still seen
in mountain districts.
In all that tumult of storm, Tom Slade paused to think. All about them
was Bedlam. Down the precipitous mountainside hard by, were
crashing the torn and uprooted trophies of the storm high in those dizzy
recesses above, where eagles, undisturbed by any human presence,
made their homes upon the crags. The rending and crashing up there
was conjured by the distance into a hundred weird and uncanny voices
which now and again seemed like the wailing of human souls.
The rush of water, gathering force in the narrow confines of the cove,
became a torrent