“I’d guess so. He may be on his feet by this time, or he could have ordered his men to let the bridge go.”
“Willie and War wouldn’t have stood for that.”
“Not if they could have prevented it. But they haven’t answered our smoke signals. I’m afraid they may be in trouble too.”
“It might suit Rhodes very well to have us stranded on this side of the river.”
“We know he didn’t swallow our story about looking for Appleby Corning,” Mr. Livingston nodded. “He must have suspected we were searching for the old mine. Now he intends to keep us stranded until he and his wife can get away.”
“We’re stranded, all right,” Jack muttered, staring at the boiling waters. “No big trees close by, even if we could fell one and cross on its trunk.”
“We can’t stay here much longer,” Mr. Livingston said. “Willie and War may need us as much as we need them. We’ve got to get back to camp!”
“A raft?”
“It’s our best bet, I think. We’re all good swimmers, with exception of Phillipe. The current is swift, but I think we can make it.”
The Scouts set to work, pegging out a rounded shape, somewhat smaller than a waterproof tarp included in their equipment. This accomplished, they used dry twigs and small pieces of wood to fill in between the pegs, and lashed it all firmly together with stout twine.