"Well, I couldn't stand there and see you drown, Buster," answered our hero. "I had to do something."

"Where are the others?"

"Up the stream--unless they went overboard, too."

"Then I suppose we ought to walk that way."

"We will--after we get our breath and you feel strong enough."

"Maybe you can call to them?"

"I'll try."

Dave yelled at the top of his voice, not once but several times.

Presently an answering hail arose from a distance, and then Ben came running up, followed by Jerry.

"Dave! Buster! Are you safe?"

"Yes," answered both.

"Oh, I am so glad! We were afraid you were both drowned! How did it happen?"

The two told their story, and then the others told how they had thrown out the rope and had seen Dave disappear in the darkness after Buster.

"I would have jumped in, too, but I didn't see how I could do any good," went on Ben. "Jerry said we had better come ash.o.r.e and look for you down here. So we did that. My! but it's a fearful flood, isn't it!"

"Yes. I wish we knew where Phil was," and Dave heaved a deep sigh. Had their chum lost his life in that rapidly-rising river?

"Ain't no ust to stay here--gitting wetter an' wetter," said the camp-worker, after a pause. "Besides, if that flood gits wuss it is bound to come up here. We better git further back--up the hill."

"Is there any shelter around here? I mean on high ground?" asked Dave.

"Yes, I know of a cabin up on the hill," answered Buster. "I don't know if I can find it in the rain and darkness, but I can try."

He walked along, through the trees, until he reached a footpath running up from the sh.o.r.e. They followed the path for about a hundred yards, and then came in sight of a long, low, rambling cabin, the home in years gone by of some lumbermen. It was in a dilapidated state, with doors and windows gone, but it would provide a roof over their heads, and that was something.

Entering, the lantern was hung on a nail, and they looked around them.

There was a fireplace, with some dry sticks handy, and soon they had a fire started, which added much to the comfort of the surroundings.

They hung up the majority of their wet garments and sat close to the blaze, drying themselves.

"If I only knew where to look for Phil, I'd go after him," said Dave.

"But to look for him in the darkness is like looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack."

"We'll have to go out first thing in the morning," returned Ben.

"Yes, as soon as we can see," added Buster.

The boys who had run away were anxious to learn what Dave had to say about affairs at Oakdale, and in a low voice, while the camp-worker was preparing hot coffee and something to eat, he related what had happened since their departure.

"You made a big mistake to run away," he said, earnestly. "Just because you did that, many folks feel sure you must be guilty. You ought to go right back and face the music."

"I guess you are right, Dave," answered Ben, shamefacedly. "But when Phil said 'run,' I didn't stop to think, but just got out."

"And that is what I did, too," added the stout youth. "But I don't blame Phil any more than I blame myself," he added, hastily.

"Nor do I," said Ben. "We made a big mistake. We should have stood our ground, like you and Roger did."

"Well, you come back with me, and we'll face this to a finish," went on our hero. "But, of course, we've got to find Phil first."

Only the camp-worker slept well that night. The boys were restless, and several times one or another got up, to go to the doorway and listen, thinking he had heard a call from Phil. But the calls were only imaginary, and morning dawned without a sign of the missing one.

It was still raining, but not so hard as before, and by eight o'clock the clouds broke away and the sun commenced to shine. All had an early breakfast, from the stores brought along, and then the party hurried down to the river.

That the dam above Camptown Falls had broken was plainly evident on all sides. During the night the river had risen seven or eight feet, bearing on its bosom many trees and bushes, with here and there the remains of camps that had been located on low ground. Moosetail Island had been swept from end to end, only the higher spots escaping the flood. The waters were now going down, the rush from the broken dam having spent itself.

The boys gave scant heed to the destruction effected by the rain and the broken dam. All their thoughts were centered on Phil. What had become of their chum? Was he dead or alive?

"I wonder if it wouldn't be best to get over to the island and look around?" suggested Dave. "Most likely he went there--thinking you would be at the cabin."

"But how are we to get to the island?" asked Buster. He had no desire to fall into the turbulent stream again.

"Oh, the water is going down rapidly, Buster. I think we can make it by noon."

All walked up and down the river bank, looking in vain for some trace of the shipowner's son. Once they met some people from another camp and asked about Phil. But these folks shook their heads.

"Didn't see a soul," said one of the men.

Jerry Blutt had been looking the situation over carefully, and he said he thought they could get to the island by going up the river a distance.

"Then the current will help us along, and we won't have to fight so hard," said the camp-worker. He did not like the idea of crossing the water, but did not wish to desert the boys.

On the trip they carried the rope, with Jerry at the head and Dave at the rear. All took tight hold, so that if one slipped the others might pull him up.

"Now, take it easy," cautioned the camp man. "This water is runnin'

putty swift, even yet."

He had mapped out a course with his eye, and proceeded slowly and cautiously. Once away from the sh.o.r.e, they felt the full force of the onrushing waters and were all but swept from their feet. It was well that they were a good distance above Moosetail Island, for to reach this spot by going straight out in the stream would have been impossible.

It was a long, hard, and dangerous trip, and all drew a deep breath of relief when they finally set foot on the island. At times they had been in water up to their waists and it had looked as if they must surely be swept away. Once a tree branch, coming swiftly along, had caught Dave and literally carried him off his feet for several yards.

They landed at one end of the island, at a point where the bushes were still two feet under water. The evidences of the flood were on every hand, and the water was muddy and filled with broken-away brushwood and trees.

"I guess we had better strike out for the camp," said Dave. "Phil would go there if he went anywhere."

As they advanced one or another gave a loud call. But no answer came back, and this made them look gravely at each other. Was the perilous trip to the island to prove a vain one?

In a quarter of an hour they came in sight of the camp. The cove had been blotted out, and the water was eddying around the cabin to a depth of several inches. Mud was everywhere, inside the place and out, and this showed that the flood had swept the spot at a height of several feet.