“It wasn’t anything,” said Mr. Ringold. “We happened to visit the house out of curiosity, and of course we brought Charlie away when we found him. He’s a brave little chap.”
A little later the temporary camp, on the high ground, was reached, and there Mrs. Wentworth, her sister and son were cared for by loving hands. The others who had been saved from the burning houses were also being looked after.
“Well, I guess we’ve done all we can here,” said Blake, as they prepared to resume their journey down the river.
The blazing houses were burning themselves out, down to the edge of the water, and the danger from the flames was over. But the peril of the flood still remained, for the waters slowly continued to rise.
“We found Charlie’s folks,” remarked Joe, when they had bidden an affectionate farewell to the boy’s mother, aunt and others of the rescued ones, “we found Charlie’s folks, but we can’t seem to locate our own friends.”
“And yet we may find them in just as unexpected a manner as we found Mrs. Wentworth,” spoke C. C. “I tell you I’m mighty glad we happened along when we did. It’s just like a story out of a book.”
“It would make a good moving picture, if we could show it all complete,” spoke Blake.
“It could be worked up into a drama, with the flood scenes you have,” declared the theatrical manager. “I could film the missing scenes later. I believe I will.”
“There’ll be one happy father to-night,” observed Joe, thoughtfully. “When Mr. Wentworth comes back, unsuccessful, and finds his son, he sure will be happy!”
“We’ll miss the little chap,” spoke Blake. “He was as good as gold while he was with us.”