Jack Bosworth, the son of a prominent corporation attorney, and Harry Stevens, whose father was a well-known automobile manufacturer, were the other members of the group. These latter two were members of the Black Bear Patrol of New York. All the lads appeared to be about eighteen years old. Their tidy uniforms, their well-knit frames and their alert attitudes bespoke the constant training of their leader.
As they looked from the windows of the car in which they now found themselves they discovered that the situation was even as Jimmie had stated. The country was flooded with water released from the dikes.
“Tell you what,” declared Jack Bosworth, after a prolonged inspection of the landscape, if it may be so called, “this is some wet!”
“You win the argument,” announced Jimmie, wrinkling his freckled nose at his companion. “I always said you were the wise little fox!”
Jack’s answer to this pleasantry was an attempt to box the younger lad’s ears. Jimmie’s resentment of the procedure drew the others into a friendly scuffle that terminated only when the contestants paused for breath.
“I wish they’d hurry up and let us get onto dry land again!” said Jimmie, when he next found himself able to draw a long breath.
“You won’t find much dry land when it rains like it’s going to right now!” stated Harry, pointing out of the window. “Watch it come down!”
“I hope they don’t get to the border while it rains like this,” answered Ned, with an involuntary shiver. “I don’t fancy standing out in such a drizzle as this appears to be. We’d be wet through in no time!”
“Why, do they make us get out?” queried Harry.