The Boy with the U. S. Weather Men | Page 4

we thought there was something wrong. Rex kept on tugging at
my leg, as though he wanted to lead me somewhere. He's worrying
again, now. Do you mind if I go ahead and see?"
"Not a bit," was the hearty answer, "a dog doesn't generally go on like
that without some reason of his own. I'll send one of the roustabouts
with you, if you like?"
"No, thanks, sir," the lad answered, "if I really need help I'll come back
and ask for it. Right now, I just want to find out what it is that's
bothering Rex."
"Off with you, then," said the other, kindly, "but go easy. Oh, and
Ross!" he added, "if you're going down stream, just keep your eye on
the levee, won't you? If you see any signs of trouble, get back on the
double-quick. Don't try any of that story-book business about sitting
down with your back to a hole in the bank. That sort of thing may be all
very well in Holland but it wouldn't work with the Mississippi."
Ross grinned, remembering the story.
"All right, Mr. Levin," he answered, "if I see anything that looks like
trouble, I'll come right back and report."
For a short distance down the river, Rex led the boy along the levee,
then he branched away from the river bank towards a large stretch of
low-lying land. This was familiar territory to Ross, for one of his best

chums, a little crippled lad, lived in a house in the hollow.
"I hope Anton got out all right!" suddenly exclaimed Ross, half aloud,
as the thought swept over him of the plight in which his chum might
have been.
This fear became more poignant when, as Rex reached the path that led
up to Anton's house, he turned up it, half trotting and half splashing his
way through. Ross followed him closely, breaking into a run himself,
as the dog galloped ahead.
There was a slight rise of the ground, near the wood below which lay
the house, and from this shallow ridge the rain ran off in muddy gullies
that were miniature torrents. This ridge reached, Ross looked down
over the hollow toward the house. The entire plantation was a sheet of
water, and, in the middle, still stood the house, the water half-way up
its first story.
Rex set his forelegs firmly on the ground and barked fiercely, with loud,
explosive barks that rang through the storm like the successive
discharges from a small cannon.
Then, out of the rain, faintly through the distance, a shout was heard. It
sounded like a boy's voice.
"It's Anton!" cried Ross. "He's been left behind! And that house is apt
to go to pieces any minute!"
The first thought that sped across his mind, as he peered through the
darkness to the dim outlines of the white house, was to hurry back to
the Forecaster for help. Even as this thought came to him, however,
Ross realized that such action might be of little use. Already the waters
of the flood, swirling around the house, undermined it every moment,
and it would take a long time to portage a boat all the way from the
levee to the hollow, now in the wild sweep of the torrent.
Then Ross remembered that, a couple of years before, when a wet
summer had caused a considerable quantity of water to gather in the

hollow, forming a small lake, Anton and he, together with the rest of
the boys, had built a rough boat. They had played the whole story of
"Treasure Island" in this craft, Anton, with his crutch, taking the part of
Long John Silver. The boat was a rough affair, as he remembered it,
something like an ancient coracle, but it had been water-tight, at least.
Perhaps it would be sea-worthy, still. At least, it was worth a trial.
Turning his back on the building that was islanded by the flood, Ross
raced as fast as he could to the little block-house on the ridge that the
boys had built two years before, near which he hoped to find the boat.
Twice he stumbled over a root in the darkness and fell headlong into
the mud and water. Still, as he could not be any wetter than he was
already and as he did not hurt himself, a few falls were no great matter.
On the ridge, fast to the block-house, to which level the water had not
yet reached, Ross found the boat. Moreover, to his great delight, he saw
that Anton had been patching it up, so that it was now more serviceable
than ever.
It was a different matter, punting this home-made boat around the
waters of a pond on a calm summer's day, and striking out