“I just knew it would happen that way. I knew it would be the luckiest day Lawrence ever saw when you struck town, Hugh Hardin. And, my word for it, they’ll never forget the handsome way you yanked that loafer of a Tug Wilson off that bridge. Once more the honors go to the good old Wolf Patrol, to which I’m proud to say I, too, belong!”
CHAPTER V.
SCOUTS TO THE RESCUE.
While waiting there for the return of the envoys sent out to drum up recruits for the rescue squad, Hugh noticed that there was considerable excitement down at the edge of the water.
“Let’s see what’s doing over yonder, Billy,” he remarked.
“I was watching that bunch,” the other scout replied. “As near as I can tell, they’re marking the stage of the water. If only the river got stationary, or began to fall, it’d mean a whole lot to the people of Lawrence, not to mention all the farmers up the valley Tip was telling us about.”
“It must look pretty blue, then,” observed Hugh, as they advanced toward the spot, “because nobody seems to want to give even a whisper of a cheer.”
When they pushed into the crowd they found that an old inhabitant had taken it upon himself to keep “tabs” of the rise of the waters. Perhaps this had been a hobby of the old fellow’s for years, and he was looked on as a sort of authority when any reference was made to past floods.
Some of the people must have recognized in Hugh the boy who had so lately performed that gallant act. They nudged one another, and exchanged low remarks.
“He looks like a brave one, sure enough. Just the sort of chap to carry out a rescue. I’d warrant you now that he’s done the same several times—snatching boys out of holes in the ice, or getting them ashore when they’ve been taken with cramps in swimming!”
“And they say it was him started the movement to chase everybody off the bridge. Only for that there might have been some gone down with it!”