“How about the farmers back in the hills?” asked Helen.
“They must have fared pretty badly if they were in the center of the storm,” said the doctor. “I’m going to get my car and start out that way. Someone may need medical attention.”
“Can I go with you?” asked Helen. “I want to get all the facts about the storm for my story for the Herald.”
“Glad to have you,” said the doctor.
“Count me in,” said Margaret Stevens. “I’ve joined Helen’s staff as her first reporter,” she told her father.
“If you want to go down the lake in the morning and see what happened at the far end I’ll be glad to take you,” suggested Jim Preston. “I’m mighty grateful for what you and Tom did for me and I’ll have the Liberty ready to go by morning.”
“What about the Flyer?” asked Tom.
“I’ll have to fish her out of the lake sometime next week,” grinned the boatman. “I’m lucky even to be here, but I am, thanks to you.”
Doctor Stevens backed his sedan out of the garage and Helen started toward the car.
“You can’t go looking like that,” protested her mother. “Your shoes and hose are wet and dirty and your dress looks something like a mop.”