"Boys," cried he, "the Loire has risen, the country is under water, and hundreds of families are in danger of their lives. Boys, the oldest and strongest of you must go and help to save them!"
The lads looked at one another an instant in silence, then broke forth in a cry that rang far and near, "Long live Demetz! Long live our director!" a cry that was a perfect explosion of gratitude and of pride; for the poor fellows fully comprehended all that their wise and good director meant them to understand—his confidence in their honor, their honesty, and their courage.
And well they justified his trust in them! More than a hundred were soon actively at work raising dikes and clams, propping houses, and carrying succor to the distressed.
Marcel, Polycarpe, and one of their companions, a young baker, named Priat, to whom both of them were much attached, were among the foremost in these labors. They had gone with some others to carry help to a village containing about twenty families; it was situated only two hundred yards from the river, and completely surrounded by water. An immense quantity of wood—wrecks from other villages swept away by the flood—drifted about in the streets, and was dashed incessantly against the water-soaked walls of the houses, shaking them terribly; two, indeed, had fallen in the night and been washed away. On the roofs, or leaning from the upper windows of the tottering dwellings, were to be seen the frightened inhabitants imploring aid; the mothers holding out their little ones and praying for pity. It was a heart-breaking sight, and the noise of the ever-rising and surging river, of the wind and pouring rain, of the shocks of the drift-wood, increased the terrors of the scene. Nor was it possible to approach near enough to the houses to save any of the unfortunates shrieking for help; for every boat belonging to the place had either been swamped or had been torn from its moorings by the overwhelming current and carried away.
"Let us run to Saint-Pierre," cried Polycarpe, after he and his companions had contemplated the fearful spectacle for a few moments with consternation. "We may find a boat there!"
He started off as he spoke, followed by half a dozen of the Colonists. Marcel did not accompany them, for he had heard cries of distress from the windmill, a short distance off, and had hastened thither with three or four more. The water at this point was quite seven feet deep, and the building evidently giving way. There seemed to be no possibility of saving the miller and his wife and child, for the flood rushed so fiercely around the mill that the most experienced swimmer would not have ventured into it. Marcel was gazing in hopeless pity at the fated building, when a man on horseback trotted into the midst of the group of despairing spectators. A sudden thought struck the boy.
"Give me that horse!" cried he; "quick, give me that horse!"
"What do you mean, youngster?" asked the man, somewhat surprised by the imperative tone and unexpected demand of the stranger.
"For God's sake, lend me your horse; every moment that we lose may cost a life!"