Luckily, however, there were several lumbermen on the bank of the stream, floating the logs down to be snaked out by the hook and chain, and sawed into boards. One of these men, Jake Peterson, was nearest to Flossie when the little girl tumbled into the stream.
“I’ll get you out!” cried Mr. Peterson.
He dropped the big iron-pointed pole with which he was pushing logs and ran toward the little girl, while Freddie, trying to do all he could, slid down the slippery hill, as it was a quicker way down than by running.
Into the water with his big rubber boots waded Mr. Peterson, and it was not a quarter of a minute after Flossie had fallen in before she was lifted out.
“Oh! Oh!” she managed to gasp and gurgle, as she caught her breath, after swallowing some of the ice-cold water. “Oh, am I dr-dr-drowned?”
“I should say not!” answered Mr. Peterson. “You’ll be all right. I’ll take you to mother.”
By this time Mrs. Bobbsey and Mrs. Baxter had rushed out of the log cabin, and Tom Case came from his sawmill. Several other lumbermen, hearing Freddie’s excited cries, came running up, but there was nothing for them to do, as Flossie was already rescued.
“What has happened?” cried Mrs. Bobbsey, as she saw her little girl, dripping wet, in the arms of Mr. Peterson.
“She fell in,” explained the lumberman. “She wasn’t in more than a few seconds, though. All she needs is dry clothes!”
“I—I dumped her in!” sobbed Freddie. “But I didn’t mean to. We were playin’ sawmill with the wheelbarrow, and I gave Flossie a ride, an’ I slipped on the pine needles, and she rolled down the hill.”