A PANIC-STRICKEN CROWD
"Oh! Help! help!"
The cry reached Paul's ears between blasts of the howling wind; but he never could have caught it had he not been so close to the wretched boy who gave utterance to the appeal.
With every nerve strained to the utmost, the young patrol leader continued to climb upward. He could see the tent flattened out like a great pancake against the branches of the tree. It had opened as it swept along, and the force of the gale had for the time being turned it into a sort of balloon. This accounted for the carrying away of Nuthin, who was a slender lad at best.
Paul found more or less difficulty in reaching a point where he could come in contact with his comrade. Branches were in the way, and swayed back and forth in a furious fashion as fresh gusts of wind caught them.
"I'm coming, Albert; hold out a little!" Paul shouted as he strained; and it was perhaps strange that in such a period of excitement he unconscious
ly used the real name of Cypher, something few people save his parents and teachers did, when A. Cypher stood so handsomely for Nuthin.
One more desperate effort, and Paul, by stretching out his hand, found he could touch the other. Doubtless the contact sent a thrill of hope through the hanging scout.
"How are you caught?" Paul called, as he managed to force himself still nearer by hanging on to the branches with his other hand, and twisting both legs around the same.
"I think a piece of rope is wrapped around my body. Anyway it hurts like fun, and my arms seem all numb," he heard Nuthin reply.
This sort of an explanation just fitted in with what Paul had conjectured. He had found it hard to believe that Nuthin would be so frightened as to cling desperately to the flying tent, when he knew that it was being carried off by the gale. He must have been an involuntary passenger of the airship that quickly ended its short flight in a neighboring tree.
Fortunately Paul had his stout pocket knife with him. He never went without it; and furthermore, it was his habit to keep all of the blades very sharp. If a knife is going to be worth a grain of salt it should be sharp. Many a fellow has realized this with dismay when some situation has confronted him calling for a keen blade, and
has found his knife almost worthless to solve the difficulty.
Perhaps had he been asked later just how he managed to get that knife out of his pocket, and the largest blade opened, Paul might have some trouble in telling.
The first thing he knew, he was again pushing himself inch by inch closer to the boy who was hung up in the tree, and feeling for the rope that held Nuthin fast.
When, after a little, he had found it, Paul prepared to press the edge of his knife against the same.
"Oh! please hurry, Paul; I'm awfully afraid the tree will go down!" he heard Nuthin cry.
But Paul had another problem to face. If he cut suddenly there would be nothing to support the other, and Nuthin might have an ugly fall through small branches that would scratch his face still more than it had been already cut.
"Can you feel anything under your feet?" he asked, almost in the other's ear.
"Yes, I've been standing on a small limb; but sometimes I slip off when that wind swings the tree so. I'm deathly sick, Paul, and dizzy. But one of my hands is loose now. Tell me what to do, please," came back instantly, as loud as Nuthin could speak.
"That's good," declared Paul. "Feel around
just above you. Can't you get hold of a branch or two, and hang on when I cut the rope? I want to keep you from falling when the support goes."
"Why, yes, I've got hold of one, Paul," answered Nuthin, who seemed to catch a trifle of the other's coolness; "and my feet are on the one below, now."
Paul dared not wait another second. He pressed the blade against the rope, and with a determined movement severed the strands.
Then, dropping his handy knife, he immediately threw his arm around the body of Nuthin. Possibly the other might have managed to keep from falling; but still he was in a state of panic, and his muscles were weakened by their recent confinement.
"It's all right!" Paul shouted, when Nuthin gave utterance to a shriek: "I've got you safe! Now, try to work your way over here. Take it easy, and you'll make it, never fear."
And Nuthin did. By degrees he seemed to gather courage, and was able to help himself. In times of stress there is nothing like confidence. It carries nearly everything before it, and brings victory where otherwise defeat must have won the day.
Presently Nuthin had reached the body of the tree, and was descending. There was really no need to urge him to haste, for he could not get
down to the ground a second too soon to satisfy his anxiety.
They found the others awaiting them below, and Mr. Gordon caught Nuthin in his arms as if to express delight at his almost marvelous escape. What if no one had noticed the absence of Albert, and they had hurried away from the ruined camp, leaving him fast in the tree? He would have been in for a terrible experience, and in the end it might have resulted seriously for the boy.
"Are you badly injured, Albert?" asked the instructor, as he drew the other on toward the point where the balance of the disrupted troop crouched, trying to get out of the way of those furious bursts of wind.
"Pretty sore, sir, but nothing serious, I reckon," came the reassuring answer, which proved that Nuthin did, after all, possess a fair amount of pluck.
When they arrived in the vicinity of the spot where the mess tent had stood, the rest of the troop greeted their coming with a faint cheer. It takes a good deal to utterly discourage a bunch of healthy boys; and while things looked pretty bleak, still they made out to consider the adventure in the light of a joke. No one wished his companions to know just how badly frightened he really was.
"Now we must get out of this," said Mr. Gordon, "and as we make our way along, try and keep together as much as you can. Pair off, and hold on, each to his mate. Ready?"
In this manner, leaving Dobbin, the horse to his fate, they deserted the late joyous camp, now lying a seeming wreck. Yet things were not as bad as they might have been, thanks to their wisdom in cutting down the tents before more of them blew away.
The crash of falling trees could still be heard with every renewed furious blast. But just as Mr. Gordon had said, these sounds proceeded almost wholly from the lower region. That was the reason he declined to seek safety in that quarter, preferring to push in the teeth of the blow, because the rocky shelters were to be found there.
They made but slow progress, but as time passed on they managed to gain some distance from the open space of the late camp, where the little hurricane had so free a sweep.
As yet they had not been successful in discovering any sort of a refuge worthy of the name. The rocks were piled up all around them, and they had to do a great deal of clambering over obstacles in order to get along; but so far as a cave went none had been found.
Mr. Gordon knew that some of his charges must be perilously near the point of exhaustion. All
the boys were not as robust and hardy as Paul and several others. He was becoming genuinely alarmed concerning them, knowing that unless shelter were quickly found they would be apt to fall.
"We must change our tactics," he called out, finally; "and instead of going on in a trailing line, spread out and cover more ground. If any one finds a cave let him give the scout's shout of discovery!"
After that they advanced more slowly, since it was really every one for himself. Paul saw that the scoutmaster must have been right when he declared that they had not yet experienced the worst of the terrible Summer storm. It seemed to be getting slowly but surely more violent, and he wondered what amount of damage it would carry along the farms of the Bushkill, and the various towns and villages bordering its banks.
Stumbling blindly at times, it was no wonder the boys had many a tumble. Hands were bruised and scratched, yet in the excitement little attention was paid to such trifling things.
Several times Paul fancied that one of his mates had called out, and hope began to surge afresh through his heart. In every case, however, it proved to be a mistake, since no succeeding calls announced the glad fact that shelter had been discovered. He was forced to believe that the
sounds he heard were only new exultant shrieks of the wind, as it swept along the side of old Rattlesnake Mountain.
Jack was close at the side of his chum, and when the darkness prevented them from actually seeing each other, they frequently caught hands, so that they might not be separated.
Whenever a little lull came in the storm the cheery voice of the scoutmaster was heard, encouraging his followers to hold out "just a little longer." In this time of gloom Mr. Gordon endeared himself to the hearts of those soaked boys as he had never before done while the sun was shining, and all seemed well.
Paul realized that they were now plodding along over ground that was totally unfamiliar to him. It gave him new hope that shortly one of the extended line might discover what they sought.
And it was just when he was bolstering up his courage in this fashion that he heard a sudden sharp cry from his chum. The lightning flashed out at that second and Paul looked eagerly toward the spot where he knew Jack had been but a brief interval before. To his astonishment his chum had utterly disappeared from view, as though the rocks had opened and swallowed him!