“We’ve got to get busy and help!” exclaimed Ned. “See! there’s another volunteer corps being organized. Let’s join it. We can’t get any wetter; and it will help to take Bob’s mind off his trouble,” Ned added in lower tones to Jerry.
“You’re right, old man. Work is the best thing for that. Come on, Bob, let’s get busy. You, too, Andy Rush!”
“That’s what I want to do—help!” cried the excitable lad. “Save lives—put out fire—pump a cellar dry—build up a chimney—here we go—come on, everybody—let her go—whoop!”
“If he keeps on that way he won’t get much done,” commented Bob with a smile.
“Let him go,” advised Jerry. “Talk is his safety valve. I’d hate to think what would happen to him if he couldn’t work off his energy that way.”
Just then Ned saw his father talking to the mayor of the town, and hurried over to them.
“Ah, Ned!” exclaimed Mr. Slade, “we were just beginning to worry about you. This is awful—terrible. I have thrown open my department store to the use of the relief corps. We will house and feed as many there as we can. Other merchants are doing the same. You boys may bring any unfortunates you meet. The salespeople, and everyone there, has orders to spare nothing.”
“That’s bully, Dad!” exclaimed Ned. “We were just going to start in and help. We had to go off after our boat that got adrift.”
“So I understand. Well, I’ll tell your mother you’re all right.”