“How about the Indian headdress?” Brad demanded. “Is it safe in the boat?”
Mr. Hatfield turned the beam of his flashlight on the craft’s seat. The feather piece lay exactly where Chips had dropped it, undamaged by water.
“The Cubs will be glad to hear this,” Brad said in relief, retrieving the handicraft article. “We’re mighty lucky tonight.”
Dan untied the rope from his waist and began to put on his clothes. Brad and Mr. Hatfield debated what to do with the boat now that it had been recovered.
“It’s too large to be taken into the car,” the Cub leader decided. “I guess the best we can do tonight is to hide it in the weeds well back from the river’s edge.”
While Dan finished dressing, he and Brad carried the craft far back from the rising water, overturning it in a patch of high grass.
“I’ll come for it in a trailer the first thing tomorrow,” Mr. Hatfield said. “During the next few hours, the river shouldn’t rise much higher.”
Feeling well repaid for their exertion, the three wiped the mud from their shoes and presently drove on through the area of shallow water to a clear stretch of pavement.
However, they had gone less than a quarter of a mile, when directly ahead they sighted still another flooded section of roadway.
“Oh! Oh!” said Mr. Hatfield, pulling up just before he reached the sheet of water. “This time, I’m afraid we’re stuck.”