CHAPTER III
Riding the Flood
When the flood of foaming, seething water swept over Dick, Tom and Ben and engulfed them, they thought at first that their time had come; but Dick shouted; “Grab hold of a log and stick to it if possible.” Each managed so to do and by holding to the logs tightly, they were born along with the rushing flood. They swallowed a good deal of water but escaped being drowned. As the boys disappeared beneath the onrush of the torrent, the Indians standing on the edge of the precipice, gazed down with a look of awe on their bronzed faces.
Onward down the gulch the boys were carried, however, with great speed, and when they had gone what seemed like two or three miles from the point where they had been overtaken by the flood, they came to a point where the gulch split, becoming two gulches, one going off at right angles while the other turned slightly to the left. As the one leading to the right was wider, had lower banks and the water was not swirling at such a terrible rate, the three youths were able to guide the logs into the gulch on that side, and were soon being borne onward at a more moderate pace.
Onward they were swept, until finally they suddenly shot out from the mouth of the gulch and found themselves in a good-sized river.
They let go now their holds on the logs, swam to the shore and clambered out upon the bank, which was low and sloping, and dropping down on the sand, they lay there, panting and resting.
“Well, didn’t that beat any experience that we have ever had since we joined the patriot army?” cried Tom, presently, when he had become rested and was breathing normally again.
“It wasn’t a very pleasing experience,” said Dick.
“I should say not,” remarked Ben.
“That torrent certainly carried us away from the vicinity of the redskins very quickly,” said Tom.
“Yes, it did that much good, anyhow,” agreed Dick.