Another half hour passed. Just ahead of them was a small cabin between the road and the river. A fenced-in patch showed where the occupants managed to have a little garden in season.
“What ails that woman standing there and calling out, d’ye suppose?” remarked Step Hen, as they were passing the cottage.
“She seems to be bothered some, if you can judge by the way she waves her hands, and keeps on beckoning,” Giraffe went on to say, becoming interested. “She’s facing out on the river, too, you notice. Now, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s got a cub of a boy who’s gone out further than he ought to on the swift current in some tub of a boat, and she’s trying to make him come ashore. There, didn’t you hear her yell to Johnny to come back at once? And here’s where the bushes end, so we can see for ourselves.”
It turned out that Giraffe was correct, for there was a makeshift of a boat out on the current of the river, containing a boy who was clumsily trying to turn its head in the direction of the shore. The obstructions in the Susquehanna make it a very treacherous stream, with eddies and stealthy currents that take one unawares, and “Johnny” was making a sorry mess of his work, Thad saw at a glance.
“He’s apt to get upset if he doesn’t take care!” exclaimed Bob White, who knew the signs all too well.
The woman kept shouting and no doubt this distracted the boy more or less, causing him to lose his head. In fact he did just what he should never have done; for when the bow of his boat ran up on a partly submerged rock he let go the oars, picked one up, and rising to his feet stepped forward to push the craft off again.
“Sit down!” shouted Thad, between his hands; but if the boy heard he gave no sign of obeying, his one thought being to push his oar against the obstruction, and get the boat moving free again.
Then came a shriek from the poor mother. The current had got in its treacherous work, just as Thad and some of his chums had expected would be the case.
“He’s gone in, and the boat turned turtle!” cried Step Hen, aghast.
“Help! oh! somebody save my poor Johnny, because he can’t swim a stroke!” shrieked the woman, wringing her hands, and appealing to the detachment of scouts, of whose presence near the spot of the tragedy she had just become aware.