The Bungalow Boys in the Great Northwest

“Thank goodness, you’re safe,” breathed the elder lad, as Jack, panting, wet, and trembling from his exertion, stood beside him.

There was no time to exchange more words. As Tom spoke, several bullets came whizzing about them. Two or three hit the rock with a dull “pinging” sound.

Evidently their refuge had been spied from the shore and a better target than they presented it would be hard to imagine. So far the darkness had apparently intervened in their favor. Tom knew it would not protect them for long. Presently the men on shore would get the range.

He dragged Jack down till both lay flat on the rock, and together they slowly made their way across it.

Was there another such rock within jumping distance?

If there were not, the Bungalow Boys were in the most dangerous position they had ever occupied in their adventurous lives.

CHAPTER XI.

A LEAP FOR LIFE AND FREEDOM

Proceeding thus, with their hearts almost literally in their mouths and with nerves that throbbed painfully, the boys finally reached the side of the rock removed from the shore. To Tom’s huge delight, they found here, lighted dimly by a reflection from the white foam, a little ledge. By standing on this crouching as low as possible they would be safe enough from the bullets – that is, except one or more of the outlaws leaped to the rock. But this was extremely doubtful.

If two active boys like Tom and Jack Dacre had had great difficulty in doing so, it was hardly likely that the outlaws, men of irregular lives and clumsy movements, would be able to accomplish it.

A howl of surprise greeted the first knowledge the men on shore had of the disappearance of the boys, which came when their figures suddenly vanished from the rock. The general consensus of opinion following that was that they had fallen off and been swept to death in the swift current.

But an old fox like Bully Banjo was not the sort of man to leave the bank on that account. On the contrary, he determined to wait till daylight if necessary, and at that time he settled within himself, he would make certain if the boys had really drowned or if they had only found a spot on the rock where they could not be seen from the shore.

He ordered no move, but that the rock was to be watched, however. And so, in silent, dogged determination, the outlaws sat down to await the coming of the day. At last it began to grow faintly, dimly light. A nebulous chilly glow diffused itself through the canyon, bringing out its rough walls and their ragged, towering groups of pines and other conifers.

With the coming of day the men on the shore began to stir. Parties walked off along the rim of the stream in either direction, their purpose being to find, if possible, some trace of the boys.

In the meantime, the coming of the light had not, as Tom had hoped, revealed another rock between the one on which they stood and the shore. Instead, thirty feet or more of raging and, apparently, deep water lay between them and the other bank. It was impossible to jump it and already they were growing weak and faint from exposure and suspense.

The ledge was narrow, too, and slippery, and it was no small exertion in itself to keep a foothold on it for the length of time to which the lads had clung there. Both of them felt that they had almost reached the limit of their endurance. But neither of them wanted to admit it just then.

“I reckon they think ashore that we have drowned,” said Tom, at length, rightly fathoming the surmises of Simon Lake’s men. “If they knew what a fix we are in, they would start peppering again, I’ll bet.”

“To tell the truth,” said Jack, “I don’t see that we are in a much better position than we would be if we were ashore. We can tell by the voices that Lake’s men are on watch for us. If we show ourselves, it will be the signal for a fusillade.”

Tom shook his head.

“I don’t think so,” he said.

“Well, why not? They have us at their mercy.”

“That is just it,” responded Tom soberly. “As soon as we show ourselves, they will, of course, know that we are not drowned. That being the case, all they have got to do is to keep the rock covered. Why, if they want to, they could keep us here till starvation finishes us off.”

“Unless we swim for it,” put in Jack.

“Swim for it?” Tom laughed grimly, and pointed to the water about them. “How long could a fellow last in that?”

“Well, I’d try it before I’d give Lake the satisfaction of starving us out,” responded Jack grittily.

“Same here,” replied Tom, “but I’ve got another plan in my head. The only thing is I don’t know if the means for working it out will come along before we drop off here from starvation.”

“You don’t mean that you’ve figured out a way of getting off here?” gasped Jack.

“I have,” rejoined Tom, “but it’s a very remote chance that it will be successful. It depends on so many things.”

“Say,” demanded Jack, “you’re not thinking of trying the jump to the other bank – you’d never make it.”

“I know that. So we’ll just hang on here and wait for the one chance in a hundred that I’m looking for.”

“And that is – ”

“Well, you’ve noticed the logs that have been drifting by since it’s got daylight?”

“Yes.”

“Well, some of them have come quite close to this rock. If the worst comes to the worst – ”

“It’s done that already,” interrupted Jack.

“I agree with you. But why couldn’t we grab one and trust to luck to its floating us out of here?”

Jack gave a delighted cry. The water was roaring so loud that it was not necessary to observe caution about noise.

“Tom, old fellow, you are a wonder!” he exclaimed. “Why on earth didn’t I think of that? It’s the very thing if – ”

His face grew suddenly sober as he thought how much depended on that “if.”

“If the one chance in a hundred happens,” said Tom, gazing steadily up stream, “and, Jack, old boy, I believe that it is.”

“What!”

“Look up yonder, what’s that coming down the river?”

“Looks like a whole tree. It must have been uprooted in a freshet. Yes – it is a tree.”

“No, it isn’t, either.”

Jack looked at his brother in some amazement, but despite the seriousness of their predicament, he could not help smiling as the other went on:

“If things go right, that’s our boat.”

Breathlessly they watched the drifting tree as it was borne toward them on the crest of the current. It was a fairly large one, with a mass of roots sticking up at one end. Despite its size, the stream was carrying it along as if it had been a straw.

Almost before they knew it, the trunk was within a few feet of them.

“When I shout, don’t hesitate,” warned Tom, “for we’ll only have a second in which to act, and it’s our only chance.”

Jack nodded. With beating hearts and dry mouths, they watched the oncoming trunk. Suddenly it was borne off toward the other bank, out of all reach. A groan from Jack. But an eddy caught it the next instant and sent it hurling back again.