“I should say I did remember it! C. C. Piper was to rescue her, but he was so slow about it—so afraid he’d get drowned, or have wet feet, or something, that the scene was spoiled, and Birdie had to get into dry clothes, and act the whole thing over, taking a second plunge into the water.”
“Mr. Ringold was sure mad at C. C. that day,” laughed Blake. “But it didn’t always happen that way. We’ve had our fun, too.”
“Oh, sure. But we’re not likely to this time—scooting around in the rain, on a river that’s twice as big as it ought to be. Say, when we get to the junction we may be able to get a New York paper of to-day, and see how things are out in the flooded district now.”
“Maybe we can,” assented Blake.
The boys settled back in their seats, for the ride of about two hours to New York, for they were on a slow train. On receiving the news over the wire, they had hastily packed, and amid the expressed regrets of Mr. and Mrs. Baker at their departure, had driven to the station.
Their train made a stop at nearly every depot, and at several, where there was a wait, Joe and Blake got out and inquired if there were any newspapers of that day. But none had been received.
“Cliff Junction!” called out the brakeman, and the boys prepared to change in order to take an express train for the remainder of the journey.
“Now for a paper!” exclaimed Blake, as he hurried up to the news-stand. Joe followed, and as a man, with his back turned to them, was making a purchase, they waited until he should have stepped aside.
“That’s always the way!” this man was complaining in a voice at the sound of which Joe and Blake looked at each other quickly. “Always the way! Whenever I go anywhere the train is sure to be late.”
“The express isn’t much behind,” said the boy at the news-stand. “Only ten minutes, and she’ll make that up before she gets to New York.”