The Pioneer Boys of the Mississippi; or, The Homestead in the WildernessRathborne, St. George
General
The Pioneer Boys of the Mississippi; or, The Homestead in the Wilderness
Rathborne, St. George
Frontier and pioneer life -- Juvenile fiction; Mississippi River -- Juvenile fiction
"That may be," answered Sandy, still unconvinced; "but you forget
that, only for this same log, we would have been safe and sound in our
dugout, and paddling as nice as anything for the bank. As it is, we've
lost our boat, paddle and all, as well as the fox and mink; and will
have to borrow Alexander Hodgson's craft until we can build another."
"Let us shout as loud as we can," proposed Bob. "Perhaps some of the
settlers will hear us, if they are down near the edge of the river,
watching how fast it keeps on rising."
Accordingly both lads sent out sturdy calls at the top of their voices;
but there came back no answering, reassuring shout. Only the murmur of
the flood could be heard, or it might be a grinding noise as the log
came in contact with other floating stuff.
So finally the boys, as if by mutual consent, gave up hallooing.
For a little time they sat there in silence, both looking uneasily
toward the shore which marked the connecting link between themselves
and their home, though it could only be faintly seen, where the
tree-crowned hills stood out against the dull, darkening heavens.
Bob suddenly aroused himself. This was no time for vain regrets. They
must be up and doing, if they hoped to cope with the new and strange
situation into which a freak of fortune had so suddenly thrust them.
"We must try to do something to get ashore, Sandy," he said, firmly.
"I was just thinking that way, myself," admitted the other; "but, since
we have no paddles, and this log chooses to remain out here in the
middle of the river, I'm bothered to know how it can be done."
As usual, Sandy was depending part upon his brother to suggest some
way out of their difficulty; not that he did not possess a bright mind
himself, but when it came to quick thinking, and the suggesting of a
reasonable plan, Bob was always to be relied on.
"Paddles would do us little good just now, I fear," said Bob. "We are
both of us good swimmers, and might be able to make the shore; but
the water is very cold, and there would be danger of a cramp catching
one of us. For that reason I don't like the idea of deserting this
friendly log. We are at least safe as long as we have it to cling to."
"But, Bob, what if we keep on floating all night? We will be chilled
to the marrow with this cold wind, and the rain that promises to fall.
Besides, when the dawn breaks, we will find ourselves many miles down
the river. And what would mother think?"
"Well, I've got a plan in my mind that might help us," the other went
on. "We don't want to lose our guns, to begin with; and, once we took
to the water in that way, how could we hold on to them? So here's what
I was thinking. Let us fasten the guns, and our clothes, as far as we
can, to this log. I always carry some buckskin thongs in the pocket of
my tunic, and there are knobs here and there, where branches have been
broken off."
Sandy broke out laughing.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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