"We want a rope," Frank explained, taken aback by this hostile demonstration. "Your boy is drowning in the mill race!"
The three men became immediately concerned. They crowded about, asking questions.
"What boy?"
"Where is he?"
"What do you want a rope for?"
"He fell into the river a few minutes ago. If we don't hurry he'll be drowned. My brother rescued him and they're both on a rock down near the rapids," Frank said hurriedly. "Get a rope—quick!"
"Get a rope, Markel!" shouted the bespectacled old man to the fellow with the club. "Hurry up!"
Markel dropped the club and ran back into the room from which he had come. In a few moments he returned, dragging a length of stout rope.
"Where is he now?" asked the old man. "Lead the way."
The men of the mill had forgotten their first animosity when told of the plight of the boy, and now they followed Chet and Frank as the two boys ran outside again and raced along the bank to the place where the other boys were standing in an excited group, shouting advice and encouragement to Joe, who was still clinging to the rock.