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Pony Rider Boys on the Blue Ridge

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<h3>CHAPTER II</h3> <h3>BATTLING WITH A GREAT FLOOD</h3> Fortunately for the Pony Rider outfit, Tad Butler's forethought had saved much of their provisions, for the "chuck" had been suspended from the crotch of a sapling where it now swung high and dry above the water that was swirling below it. Not trusting the guide to pack the provisions Tad took that task upon himself, while his companions, with the exception of Stacy Brown, were getting the other equipment together for a hurried move. Billy Veal, in the present emergency, was about as useful as a wooden man. Too frightened to keep his mind on his work, whatever he did he did badly. "Who was the man who recommended Chops to you, Professor?" called Tad. "The banker at Asheville, sir. Why?" "Oh, nothing much except that I'd like to be a judge and have that banker come up before me just once—just once, mind you." "I am inclined to agree with you, young man," replied the Professor. "Were there a reasonable chance for him to get home alive I should be for sending Veal there at once." "What are we going to do now?" cried Ned running up to them, now fully clothed, with oilskins covering his body down to the knees. "We are going to try to get out of here. Hurry with the tents. Strike the camp in a rush, boys!" commanded Tad. "If we wait long enough the lightning will do that for us," jeered Stacy. "No levity, gentlemen," was the Professor's stern command. "This is a time for action, not so-called humor." "Yassir," piped the fat boy. The tents came down quickly, but they were not packed with the usual care. Instead they were folded up hastily and stowed in the packs of the various boys. The lads worked like tentmen striking circus tents when looking forward to a long run to the next town. The result was that the equipment was ready for moving in almost record time. The water was plainly rising as Tad could see by the light of the flickering lanterns. "Now, Professor, we are all ready," announced Butler finally. "What would you suggest?" "I am depending upon you, Tad. I thought you had some plan in mind. However, so long as you have asked me, I would suggest that we continue on upstream." "I think it would be wiser to go the other way," advised Tad. "Guide, is there any place below here where we can make a dry landing?" "Yassir." "That's good. How far below?" "Right smart piece, sah." "How far?" demanded Tad insistently. "Right smart, sah." "You can't get anything out of him," grumbled Butler disgustedly. "How far is 'right smart,' Chops?" interjected Rector. "A right smart, sah." "A mile?" "Yassir." "Two miles?" "Yassir." "You see, Professor," spoke up Tad with a shrug of the shoulders. "We can expect no help from Chops. We've got to trust to our own judgment." The Professor nodded reflectively. "Why do you prefer to go down rather than upstream?" he asked. "For the reason that we shall meet higher water up there, and besides this we shall be beating against the flood instead of going with it. You will find the going easier downstream than the other way." "I am inclined to think you are right. But the difficulty is that we don't know what we are going to meet that way now." "We shall have to take our chances, that's all. And the sooner we get started the better. We'll be swept off from this camp ground pretty soon. You see how rapidly the water is rising?" reminded Butler. "Then we will go downstream. Get ready, boys." "We're ready," cried Ned. "I'm not ready," answered Stacy. "I—I've got to tie my shoe. I—" "Let him tie his shoe. He can follow along when he gets ready. We don't propose to stay here and drown," declared Ned. "I'll lead the way with a lantern," announced Tad. "Chops, you ride up next to me. Ned, you follow along at the rear with a second lantern. In that way we shall be pretty well able to see what we are doing and what is going on along the line." "An excellent idea," approved Professor Zepplin. "You have a wise head on your shoulders, Tad." "But a wet one," laughed the Pony Rider Boy, mounting his pony and wading it cautiously into the rapidly moving water. "Come on there, Chops. Why are you hanging back?" "Yassir," answered Billy Veal riding in after Tad with evident reluctance. The water was up to the bellies of the ponies. The little animals put back their ears. They did not like the task before them. Chunky had trouble with his mount and for a moment it looked as though the fat boy would be dumped into the flood. After a brief battle, however, he managed to get his horse headed in the right direction. For the first half hour the boys made their way along without great difficulty, though they could tell that the water was rising all the time. At first they had held their feet up, to keep them out of the water. But now they were riding with feet in stirrups, well down in the water. Their feet were already benumbed with the cold, the ponies were snorting, and the night seemed to be growing blacker with the moments. All at once Ned's voice was raised above the roar of the water in a warning shout. "Pull to the right!" he called. The word was passed along quickly, whereat every one forced his pony against the steep wall on the right-hand side. They were none too soon. A great tumbling shape went tearing by, raking the legs and sides of the horses. Billy Veal, not having got out of the way quickly enough, was caught, and his pony was swept from its feet. The colored man fell, uttering a yell of fear. Tad, with quick presence of mind, threw his own body forward and taking a stiff brace on the right stirrup reached down grasping Billy by the coat collar. Chops was yelling lustily. "Stop it! Howling won't help you!" bellowed Tad. A big tree, having been uprooted by the storm, had done the work. But the tree had come and gone almost before the Pony Rider Boys realized what had occurred. Billy was floundering in the water. Tad was holding to him with difficulty. "If you don't stop it, I'll let go," threatened Tad. "You'll drown if I do. Buck up!" "Let him go! We don't want him," shouted Chunky mockingly. "Ride up beside me and help me, or I shall let go," gritted Tad, holding to the fellow with all his strength. Chunky obeyed reluctantly. He was afraid to get mixed up with this fresh difficulty, fearing that he might be unhorsed. Chunky had sense enough to know what that would mean to him, but he lent his aid as best he could, and between them they managed to get Chops up on Tad's horse. In the meantime Walter had ridden ahead and caught the guide's pony after a struggle with the wiry little animal that nearly terminated in Walter's getting a bath in the cold water, though they all were about as wet as it was possible to be. It was not the wetness that they feared, however, but the swift current that nearly took the ponies off their feet, sure-footed as the tough little animals were. Some further trouble was experienced in getting Chops back on his own horse, and it was only by lifting him over bodily while two of them forced the guide's pony over against Tad's mount that they succeeded at all. "If you get into difficulties again I guess you'll have to shift for yourself," declared Butler. "We have about all we can do to look out for ourselves without attending to you, Chops." "Ya—yassir." "Oh, shoot the 'yassir,'" jeered Rector. "Are we all right side up with care once more?" "Fit as dry fiddles," cried Tad. "Forward, all! Are you ready, Professor?" "As ready as I shall be tonight. All hands keep watching the bank on either side for a landing place." "I am looking after that. You may all help, of course," replied Tad. They started on again. In places the current was so swift, where it swirled into a bend of the stream, that Tad was obliged to follow the current, rather than take the more direct course. He felt that his pony could not stand the added strain were he to go straight ahead. It was a weird scene, the shadowy figures outlined in the dim light of the lanterns, the film of spray kicked up by man and horse, the great dark walls towering on either side, and the roar of the flood making necessary loud talking if one hoped to have his voice reach his companions. Chops was the only one who really acted as if he were afraid. Tad Butler rode ahead with all the steadiness of a seasoned trooper going into battle. The others were not far behind him in composure, though Stacy Brown's eyes were large and staring. Once more their thoughts were interrupted by a call from Ned, who, as the reader knows, was bringing up the rear of the procession. Ned's voice again had in it a note of warning. "Ask him what it is," called Tad. "He says he doesn't know," answered the Professor. Tad halted his pony and turned in the saddle waiting until Ned came up with him. "What is it, Ned?" he demanded. "Don't you hear that noise?" "That roaring?" asked Butler. "Yes." "I've been listening to that for the last sixty seconds," answered Tad, his face drawing down into sharp lines of concentration. "What do you think it is?" "Water." "It's something more than mere water. It's a torrent, Ned. This is where we get it. Everyone crowd close to the bank," shouted Tad. "What for? Is—is it another tree?" demanded Chunky. "It's water and a lot of it. The crest of the flood I think is coming down. Perhaps it won't last long and perhaps it may endure for half an hour or so. Hug the wall over here on the left side. It's less exposed there. Chops! Get over here! Be lively!" They had not long to wait. Already pieces of bark, limbs, torn branches, roots and sod were tearing their way down the pass, slapping the legs of the ponies, causing the little animals to rear and plunge and snort, and to make frantic efforts to get out of the way. This made it the more difficult for the boys to manage them, to keep them close to the bank where they would be safer than farther out in the stream. "There goes my lantern!" yelled Ned. "I'm in the dark." "You're lucky if you don't find yourself in a darker place in a few minutes," muttered Tad Butler apprehensively. Just then a piece of wood hurled against his own lantern shattered the globe, at the same time tearing the lantern from his hand, leaving only the wire handle in his possession. Impenetrable darkness instantly settled over the roaring scene, and above the roar was heard the voice of Stacy Brown. "Yassir. Nassir!" mocked Chunky. "Stick tight to the left. Quit your fooling!" shouted Tad. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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