The Secret of the Old Mill/Chapter 8
CHAPTER VIII
Joe's Courage
The accident had happened so quickly that it was not for a few moments that the Hardy boys and their chums realized the lad's danger.
Then, as they saw him struggling in the torrent, they began to run toward the spot to which the lad was being rapidly carried.
Joe was in the lead, and as he ran he was taking off his coat. Just below the mill race the river was full of rocks, and the rapids dashed over them in a boiling fury of spray and foam. If the youth were ever swept into the rapids he would be doomed.
The other lads were not far behind Joe. The accident had not been seen from the mill, for no one appeared in the doorway, and the cries of the boy in the river evidently had not been heard by the men in the building.
"Help!" he was shouting. "Help!"
He was struggling in the water, being swept irresistibly on toward the deadly rapids.
"I can't swim!"
Joe reached the bank, paused to kick off his shoes, then stood poised for a moment above the rushing waters. He dived into the mill race, disappeared beneath the surface, then rose just a few yards away from the struggling boy.
The lad had already gone under once and was gasping for breath. He was just about to go under for the second time when Joe swam toward him with strong, steady strokes and grasped him by the collar.
Frantically, the boy tried to seize his rescurer, but Joe was ready for that. He knew that the unreasoning grip of a drowning person is of the utmost danger, so he managed to stay at arm's length and at the back of the boy.
"Hold steady!" he shouted, above the roar of waters. "Hold steady! Keep cool!"
His words had some effect in restoring the lad to his senses and the boy, feeling the supporting grasp on his collar, ceased his struggles.
But the danger was not yet over. The current was so strong that they were both being carried headlong downstream toward the rapids.
Joe could see the jagged rocks silhouetted against a background of flying spray and foaming water. If once they were swept into that maelstrom they would be battered to death.
He was handicapped by the weight of the boy, but he turned toward the shore and exerted all his efforts in swimming toward the bank. But he made little progress. The current was too strong for him. The other lads, running along the bank, were watching the scene in consternation.
"He'll never make it!" declared Jerry. "The current is too much for him."
They could see Joe's tense face as he pitted his strength against the force of the current and desperately strove to make his way toward the bank. He was still clinging to the boy, who was commencing his struggles anew.
They were being swept closer to the rapids every moment. There were a number of rocks rising above the surface of the river just a few feet ahead, and beyond that was a smooth, deep, swiftly flowing sheet of water that swept past the willows at the bend and ended in a quarter of a mile of rough, turbulent water, rapids and falls.
"I'm going to help him!" exclaimed Frank, suddenly.
He stopped on the bank and flung off his coat, then started to untie his shoelaces in order to kick his light shoes aside.
But in the meantime Joe had managed to catch at a projecting rock with his free hand, so Chet put a restraining hand on Frank's arm.
For a moment it seemed that the current would make Joe lose his grip, but he clung to the rock and drew himself closer until he had wrapped his arm about it. The rest of the rock was wide and flat and lay just a few inches beneath the surface.
Slowly, Joe clambered on to this precarious refuge, dragging the half-conscious boy with him. The rock was big enough to provide foothold for them both.
The boy was unable to help himself, as he was limp and weak from his experience. Just as he was almost on the rock Joe lost his grip on the lad's collar for a second, and the current whirled him to one side. The lad toppled backward, striking his head on the rock, but Joe made a frantic grab for him, at imminent risk of precipitating himself into the water again.
His fingers closed about the back of the lad's shirt and he managed to haul the boy to safety once more.
But the blow had rendered the lad unconscious. He lay limply on the flat rock, with the water breaking about his body, while Joe, his clothes drenched, clung to him.
"Get help! Get a rope!" Joe shouted, to his companions on the bank.
Frank and Chet lost no time.
They fled back toward the old mill.
The affair in the river had passed unnoticed by the millers, and when Chet and Frank rushed up to the front door they found no one in sight.
"I'm going inside," declared Frank. "We'll have to get a rope or they'll be swept off that rock in no time."
The door was closed, but he pushed it open and entered the dim interior of the mill. But hardly had he stepped inside, with Chet at his heels, than he ran into the arms of one of the men whom he had seen outside the doorway some time previously.
"Hi, what do you want?" demanded the man angrily. He seized Frank by the shoulders and tried to push him back, out of the building. At the same time the other man came running out of a near-by door.
"What's going on here?" he shouted wrathfully. "What's all this about? Get out of here, you boys!"
The sound of voices evidently attracted the attention of a third man, for he, too, came running out of the shadows, carrying a heavy club, which he brandished threateningly.
"What do you want here?" he shouted excitedly. He was short and broad-shouldered, with a dirty kerchief knotted about his neck.
"We want a rope," Frank explained, taken aback by this hostile demonstration. "Your boy is drowning in the mill race!"
The three men became immediately concerned. They crowded about, asking questions.
"What boy?"
"Where is he?"
"What do you want a rope for?"
"He fell into the river a few minutes ago. If we don't hurry he'll be drowned. My brother rescued him and they're both on a rock down near the rapids," Frank said hurriedly. "Get a rope—quick!"
"Get a rope, Markel!" shouted the bespectackled old man to the fellow with the club. "Hurry up!"
Markel dropped the club and ran back into the room from which he had come. In a few moments he returned, dragging a length of stout rope.
"Where is he now?" asked the old man. "Lead the way."
The men of the mill had forgotten their first animosity when told of the plight of the boy, and now they followed Chet and Frank as the two boys ran outside again and raced along the bank to the place where the other boys were standing in an excited group, shouting advice and encouragement to Joe, who was still clinging to the rock.
Markel stumbled along the bank with the rope, and when he reached the group of boys they shoved back to give him space. He coiled the rope loosely in one hand, then whirled the free end of it about his head and flung it out into the stream.
But the rope fell short. Joe made a frantic grab for it, but Markel had misjudged the distance.
"Here—let me try it," demanded the oldest of the three men, pushing Markel impatiently to one side. He seized the loose end of the rope, drew the remainder of it from the rushing water, then cast it out to Joe.
The rope whirled through the air, missed Joe's outstretched fingers by inches, then splashed into the water.
Again the old man drew the rope back, again he swung it about his head and again it arched out above the river.
This time it fell against Joe's shoulders. The youth, still clinging to the unconscious form on the rock, hastily grabbed at it, seized it, and began hastily tying it about his shoulders, underneath his arms.
He was handicapped by the fact that he had but one arm free, but at last he had the rope securely knotted.
The old man was greatly excited. He had noticed that boy the had not moved and that Joe had to cling to him to keep him from being swept off the rock.
"Lester!" he shouted. "Lester! Are you all right?"
"He hit his head on a rock and it knocked him out," explained Jerry. "I don't think he's badly hurt."
At that moment Joe looked up and waved to them, as a signal that they could begin towing him ashore. He tightened his hold on the unconscious boy, then eased himself off the rock.
The old man, Frank and Markel seized the end of the rope, and as Joe released his hold of the rock they began to pull.
The rope was an old one and Frank noticed, with alarm, that it was worn and frayed. Would it hold?
The figures in the water bobbed up and down in the waves, sometimes submerged completely. Bit by bit, they were drawn toward the bank.
But their combined weight and the strength of the current proved too much for the rope.
When they were but a few yards from shore the rope abruptly snapped.
The men and the boys on the bank staggered back as the loose end of the rope spun through the air.
Joe and Lester were swept away in the swift current!