This was a serious question, for Anderson Rover knew well the risk he was running, knew well that many a white man had gone into the interior of Africa never to return. At last it was settled that Randolph Rover should become Dick, Tom, and Sam’s temporary guardian. This accomplished, Anderson Rover set off and that was the last any of his family had ever heard of him.
Was he dead or alive? Hundreds of times had the boys and their uncle pondered that question. Each mail was watched with anxiety, but day after day brought no news, until the waiting became an old story, and all settled down to the dismal conviction that the daring explorer must be dead. He had landed and gone into the interior with three white men and twenty natives, and that was all that could be ascertained concerning him.
At the time of Anderson Rover’s departure Randolph had been on the point of purchasing a farm of two hundred acres in the Mohawk Valley of New York State. The land had not changed hands until a year later, however, and then Dick, Tom, and Sam were called upon to give up their life in the metropolis and settle down in the country, a mile away from the village of Dexter Corners.
For a month things had gone very well, for all was new, and it seemed like a “picnic,” to use Tom’s way of expressing it. They had run over the farm from end to end, climbed to the roof of the barn, explored the brook, and Sam had broken his arm by falling from the top of a cherry tree. But after that the novelty wore away, and the boys began to fret.
“They want something to do,” thought Randolph Rover, and set them to work studying scientific farming, as he called it. At this Dick made some progress, but the uncle could do nothing with Tom and Sam. Then the last two broke loose and began to play pranks on everybody that came along, and life became little short of a burden to the studious Randolph and, his quiet-minded spouse.
“I must send them off to a boarding school, or somewhere,” Randolph Rover would say, but he kept putting the matter off, hoping against hope that he might soon hear from his lost brother.
CHAPTER II
AN ENCOUNTER ON THE ROAD
“I’ll race you to the path,” said Sam, when the woodshed was left behind.
“All right,” answered Tom, who was always ready to run. “Toe the mark here. Now then—one, two, three! Go!”
And away they went across the meadow, leaping two ditches with the agility of a pair of deer, and tearing through the small brush beyond regardless of the briers and the rents their nether garments might sustain. At first Tom took the lead, but Sam speedily overhauled and then passed him.
“It’s no use—you always could outrun me,” panted Tom, as he came to a stop when Sam crossed the footpath ten yards ahead of him. “I can’t understand it either. My legs are just as long as yours, and my lungs just as big, too, I think.”
“You want to do your running scientifically, Tom. That athletic instructor in New York—”
“Oh, bother your scientific things, Sam! Uncle gives us enough of that, so don’t you start in. I wonder if Dick has got a letter from Larry Colby? He promised to write last week. He is going to a boarding school soon.”
“We’ll know in a few minutes. I wonder where Larry—Gracious, listen!”
Sam broke off short, as a loud cry for help reached their ears. It came from the footpath, at a point where it ran through a grove of beech trees.
“It’s Dick’s voice! He wants help!” burst from Tom’s lips. “Come on!” and he set off as rapidly as his exhausted condition would permit. As before, Sam readily outdistanced him, and soon came upon the scene of a most brutal encounter.
A burly tramp, all of six feet in height, had attacked Dick Rover and thrown him upon his back. The tramp was now kneeling upon the prostrate boy’s chest, at the same time trying to wrench a watch from Dick’s vest pocket.
“Keep still there, or I’ll knock you on the head!” cried the tramp, as, letting go of the watch chain, he clapped a dirty hand over Dick’s mouth.
“I—won’t—kee—keep still!” spluttered Dick. “Let—me—up!”
“You will keep still—if you know what is best for you. I have your pocketbook, and now I am bound to have that watch and that ring.”
“No! Don’t rob me of the watch! It belonged to my father!” panted Dick, and as the watch came out of the pocket he made a clutch at it. “Help! help!”
“Will you shut up!” burst out the tramp fiercely, and struck at the youth with his fist.
It was at this juncture that Sam put in an appearance. A glance told him how matters stood, and without waiting an instant he came up behind the tramp, and, catching him by the shoulders, hurled him backward.
“Sam! Good for you!” burst out Dick joyfully. “Don’t let him get away!”
“What do you mean, boy?” demanded the ruffian, as he turned over and leaped to his feet.
“You let my brother alone—that’s what I mean,” was the answer.
“Give me my pocketbook and that watch!” went on Dick, for the tramp held both articles, one in each hand.
“Yes, I will—not,” was the ready reply, turning, suddenly, the tramp started through the grove of trees on a run.
Without waiting, Sam ran after him followed by Tom, who had now arrived. Dick came behind, too much winded by being thrown on his back to keep up with them.
“He is making for the river!” cried Tom, after running for several minutes without gaining on the thief. “If he has a boat he’ll get away!
“I don’t think he has a boat, Tom. He looks like a regular tramp.”
“We’ll soon find out.”
They could not see the ruffian, but they could hear him quite plainly as he crashed through the brush beyond the grove of trees. Then came a crash and a yell of pain.
“He has stumbled and fallen!” said Sam, and redoubled his speed. Soon he reached the spot where the tramp had gone down. He was about to proceed further when a well-known object caught his eye.
“Here is the pocketbook!” he burst out, and picked the article up. A hasty examination showed that the contents were intact; and the two boys continued the pursuit, with Dick still following.
They were now going downhill toward the river, and presently struck a patch of wet meadow.
“We must be careful here,” observed Tom, and just then sank up to his ankles in water and mud. But the tramp could now be seen heading directly for the river, and they continued to follow him.
They were still fifty yards from the shore when Sam uttered a cry of dismay. “He’s got a boat!”
“So he has. Stop there, you thief!”
“Stop yourself, or I’ll shoot one of you!” growled the tramp, as he leaped into a flat bottom craft moored beside a fallen tree. He had no pistol, but thought he might scare the boys.
They came to a halt, and an instant later the flat-bottom craft shot away from the river bank. By this time Dick came up, all out of breath.
“So he has gotten away!” he cried in dismay.
“Yes,” answered Sam, “but here is your pocketbook.”
“And what of my watch—the one father gave to me before he left for Africa?”
“He’s got that yet, I suppose,” said Tom.
At this Dick gave a groan, for the watch was a fine gold one which Mr. Rover had worn for years. Dick had begged for the timepiece, and it had been entrusted to him at the last moment.
“We must get that watch back somehow!” he said. “Isn’t there another boat around here?”
“There is one up to Harrison’s farm.”
“That is quarter of a mile away.”
“I don’t think there is any nearer.”
“And the river is all of two hundred feet wide here! What shall we do?”
It was a puzzling question, and all three of the boys stared blankly at each other. In the meantime, the thief had picked up a pair of oars and was using them
in a clumsy fashion which showed plainly that he was not used to handling them.
“If we had a boat we could catch him easily,” observed Tom. Then his eyes fell upon the fallen tree. “I have an idea! Let us try to get across on that! I won’t mind a wetting if only we can get Dick’s watch back.”
“Yes, yes; just the thing!” put in his elder brother quickly.
All hands ran down to the fallen tree, which was about a foot in diameter and not over twenty-five or thirty feet in length. It lay half in the water already, and it was an easy matter to shove it off.
“We can’t do much without oars or a pole,” said Tom. “Wait a moment,” and he ran back to where he had seen another fallen tree, a tall, slender maple sapling. He soon had this in hand; and, cleared of its branches, it made a capital pole. Dick and Sam sat astride of the tree in the water, and Tom stood against an upright branch and shoved off. The river was not deep, and he kept on reaching bottom without difficulty.
By this time the tramp was halfway across the stream, which was flowing, rapidly and carrying both boat and tree down toward a bend quarter of a mile below.
“Go on back, unless you want to be shot!” cried the man savagely, but they paid no attention to the threat as no pistol appeared; and, seeing this, the thief redoubled his efforts to get away.
He was still a quarter of the distance from the opposite shore, and the boys on the tree were in midstream, when Sam uttered a shout. “There goes one of his oars! We can catch him now—if we try hard!”
It was true that the oar was gone, and in his anxiety to regain the blade the tramp nearly lost the second oar. But his efforts were unavailing, and he started to paddle himself to the bank, meanwhile watching his pursuers anxiously.
“We’ll get him,” said Dick encouragingly, when, splash! Tom went overboard like a flash, the lower end of his pole having slipped on a smooth rock of the river bottom. There was a grand splutter, and it was fully a minute before Tom reappeared—twenty feet away and minus his pole.
“Hi! help me on board, somebody!” he spluttered, for he had gone overboard so quickly that he had swallowed a large quantity of water.
Both Sam and Dick tried to reach him, but could not. Then the current caught the tree and whirled it around and around until both boys began to grow dizzy.
Seeing they could not aid him, and getting back a little of his wind, Tom struck out for the tree. But the water running over his face blinded him, and ere he knew he was so close the tree came circling around and struck him on the side of the head.
“Oh!” he moaned, and sank from sight.
“Tom’s hit!” gasped Sam. “He’ll be drowned sure now!”
“Not if I can help him!” burst out Dick, and leaped overboard to his brother’s assistance. But Tom was still out of sight, and for several seconds could not be located.
Sam waited anxiously, half of a mind to jump into the river himself. The tramp was now forgotten, and landed on the opposite bank unnoticed. He immediately dove into the bushes, and disappeared from view.
At last Dick caught sight of Tom’s arm and made a clutch for it. Hardly had he taken hold than Tom swung around and caught him by the throat in a deathlike grip, for he was too bewildered to know what he was doing.
“Save me!” he groaned. “Oh, my head! Save me!”
“I will, Tom; only don’t hold me so tight,” answered Dick. “I—can’t get any air.”
“I can’t swim—I’m all upset,” was the reply; and Tom clutched his elder brother tighter than ever.
Seeing there was no help for it, Dick caught hold of the fingers around his throat and forced them loose by main force. Then he swung himself behind Tom and caught him under the arms, in the meantime treading water to keep both of them afloat.
“Sam, can’t you bring that tree closer?” he called out.
There was no reply, and, looking around, he saw that the tree and his younger brother were a hundred yards away, and sailing down the river as rapidly as the increasing current could, carry them for quarter of a mile below were what were known as the Humpback Falls—a series of dangerous rapids through which but few boats had ever passed without serious mishap.
“I reckon Sam is having his hands full,” he thought. “I must get Tom to the shore alone. But it is going to be a tough job, I can see that.”
“Oh, Dick!” came from Tom. “My head is spinning like a top!”
“The tree hit you, Tom. But do keep quiet, and I’ll take care of you.”
“I can’t swim—I feel like a wet rag through and through.”
“Never mind about swimming. Only don’t catch me by the throat again, and we’ll be all right,” was Dick’s reassuring reply, and as his brother became more passive he struck out for the bank upon which the thief had landed.
The current carried them on and on, but not so swiftly as it was carrying the tree. Soon they were approaching the bend. Dick was swimming manfully, but was now all but exhausted.
“You can’t make it, Dick,” groaned Tom. “Better save yourself.”
“And let you go? No indeed, Tom. I have a little strength left and—Hurrah, I’ve struck bottom!”
Dick was right: his feet had landed on a sandbar; and, standing up, both boys found the water only to their armpits. Under such circumstances they waded ashore with care, and here threw themselves down to rest.
“That thief is gone,” said Dick dismally.
“And my watch too!”
“But where is Sam?” questioned Tom, then looked at his brother meaningfully.
“The Humpback Fall!” came from Dick. “Sam! Sam!” he yelled; “look out where you are going!”
But no answer came back to his cry, for Sam had long since floated out of hearing.
CHAPTER III
SAMS ADVENTURE AT HUMPBACK FALLS
For several minutes after Dick leaped overboard to Tom’s assistance, Sam’s one thought was of his two brothers. Would they reach the tree or the shore in safety? Fervently he prayed they would.
The tree went around and around, as a side current caught it, and presently the whirlings became so rapid that Sam grew dizzy, and had to hold tight to keep from falling off.
He saw Dick catch Tom from the back and start for shore, and then like a flash the realization of his own situation dawned upon him. He was on the tree with no means of guiding his improvised craft, and sweeping nearer and nearer to the rapids of which he had heard so much but really knew so little.
“I must get this tree to the river bank,” he, said to himself, and looked around for some limb which might be cut off and used for a pole.
But no such limb was handy, and even had there been there would have been no time in which to prepare it for use, for the rapids were now in plain sight, the water boiling and foaming as it darted over one rock and another, in a descent of thirty feet in forty yards.
“This won’t do!” muttered the boy, and wondered if it would not be best to leap overboard and try to swim to safety. But one look at that swirling current made him draw back.
“I reckon I had best stick to the tree and trust to luck to pass the rocks in safety,” he muttered, and clutched the tree with a firmer hold than ever.
The strange craft had now stopped circling, and was shooting straight ahead for a rock that stood several feet above water. On it went, and Sam closed his eyes in expectancy of an awful shock which would pitch him headlong, he knew not to where.
But then came a swerve to the left, and the tree grated along the edge of the rock. Before Sam could recover his breath, down it went over the first line of rapids. Here it stuck fast for a moment, then turned over and went on, throwing Sam on the under side.
The boy’s feet struck bottom, and he bobbed up like a cork. Again he clutched the tree, and on the two went a distance of ten feet further. But now the tree became jammed betwe
en two other rocks, and there it stuck, with Sam clutching one end and the water rushing in, a torrent over the other.
For the moment the boy could do little but hold fast, but as his breath came back to him he climbed on top of the tree and took a look at the situation.
It was truly a dismaying one. He was in the very center of the rapids, and the shore on either side of him was fifty to sixty feet away.
“How am I ever to get to the bank?” he asked himself. “I can’t wade or swim, for the current is far too strong. I’m in a pickle, and no mistake. I wonder if Dick and Tom are on solid earth yet?”
He raised his voice into a shout, not once, but several times. At first only the echoes answered him, but presently came a reply from a distance.
“Sam! Sam! Where are you?” It was Dick calling, and he was running along the bank alone, Tom being too exhausted to accompany him.
“Here I am—in the middle of the falls!”
“Where?”
“Out here—in the middle of the falls!”
“Great Caesar, Sam! Can’t you wade ashore?”
“No; the current is so strong I am afraid to.”
In a minute more Dick reached a spot opposite to where the tree rested. As he took in the situation his face clouded in perplexity.
“You are right—don’t try wading,” he, said. “If you do, you’ll have your skull cracked open on the rocks. I’ll have to get a rope and haul you off.”
“All right; but do hurry, for this tree may start on again at any instant!”
To procure a rope was no easy matter, for nothing of that sort was at hand, and the nearest farmhouse was some distance away. Yet, without thinking twice, Dick set off for the farmhouse, arriving there inside of five minutes.
“I need a rope, quick, Mr. Darrel,” he said. “My brother is in the middle of the Humpback Falls on a tree, and I want to save him.”
“Why, Dick Rover, you don’t tell me!” cried Joel Darrel, a farmer who had often worked for Randolph Rover. “Sure I’ll get a wash line this minute!” and he ran for the kitchen shed.
Luckily the line was just where the farmer supposed it would be, and away went man and boy, Dick leading, until the river bank was again reached.
The Rover Boys Megapack Page 2
