Part 4

It has been stated that owing to the river bend, and from other causes, the current set diagonally across to the other side. Drawing thus towards the farther shore, the boat's crew neared a timbered point, below which the water expanded over the low-lying country for miles. So far only the thickly fringed timber belts could be seen. It was questionable if they could find any dry earth. In all likelihood, however, even should there not be any landing-place, they would find protection from the current behind the thick wood. As they got close in to the scrubby portion the boys saw, to their great disappointment, that the land was still submerged. They had hoped to find a patch of earth. All they can do now is to shelter behind the timber.

"Pull, boys, pull hard!" cried Joe, the while he turned the boat's nose towards a rear clump. His quick eye discerned an eddy formed by a point higher up. Rowing into this, the boat was eased in its downward track, and after getting well in behind the clump they were able to make headway against the stream, finally fastening to a big she-oak almost in still water. Here they were out of the tract of the current and the perils of the driftwood.

What a relief to the half-dazed and frightened boys!

Captain Joe, be it said, though fearful enough while in the roaring waters, kept all his wits about him. Often as his heart jumped into his mouth he as quickly swallowed it again. More than once his resourcefulness saved the boat from certain disaster.

"Thank God!" exclaimed he, as Tom tied the painter to a strong limb, and the boat rode easy.

"It was a touch and go, lads. Don't cry, Jimmy!" as that lad, yielding to a feeling of reaction, burst into tears. Tom was not much better, and furtively wiped his eyes under the pretence of blowing his nose. In a few minutes the boys were themselves again. The roar and rush of the waters filled their oars and souls as they lay at anchor. So deafening were the sounds that it was only by shouting they could hear one another.

Stretching inland, and reaching to the distant hills, nothing was to be seen but a waste of waters, with here and there a bushy hillock, a miniature island. What remained of the settlers' houses looked like so many Noah's arks. Moving figures could be seen on one which lay a long way off. They were the unfortunate owners, who, by delaying their retreat until too late, were driven on to the very ridge pole for safety. Fortunately they were in still water; so at least it seemed from the distance; consequently their position was not alarming. Tree marks showed the river to be falling at a fairly rapid rate.

"Now then, boys, let's hold a council of war!"

"Wot's that, Joe?"

"It's what they say in soldiering when the generals get into a fix," chipped in Tom.

"Oh, gollies! let us get home as quick as possible. If we don't they'll think we're drownded an'----"

"Look here, Jimmy, stow that rot! If we start talking in that fashion, we'll get unnerved. Billy, you first! Tell us what you think about the situation."

"Long's we're here we're safe. There's a 'possum in the spout above us. I'll climb up and get 'im for tucka."

"We can't cook 'possum in the boat, Billy. No dry wood; no matches. You're right enough about safety, though. These trees have borne the brunt of the flood stream at its highest, and things are getting easier. Jimmy, what do you think of it?"

"I--I--I dunno. Oh, my poor m-other!" cried Jimmy, whose emotions again overpowered him.

"Didn't I tell you to stow that water-cart business? Dry up, or I'll jolly well tan your hide for you, you soft milksop!"

Joe's severity was partly assumed. He was fighting himself about home thoughts. He knew the folly of giving way at this crisis to such a natural sentiment.

"You, Tom! You've a notion, I'm sure," said Joe to his chum.

"My opinion, chaps, is that we ought to be very thankful for bein' where we are, an' stay here a bit anyways. It'd be madness to attempt to recross the river. What's to prevent us pullin' over there?" pointing to a hillock nearly a mile away inland.

"Tom's right, boys. We must make up our minds, hard as it is, to camp on this side to-day. It'd be easy enough to do as Tom says, row over to that island. Supposin', though, the water went down a lot during the night; we might have to drag the boat over a lot of mud to get to the river-bank to-morrow. Bes' stay where we----"

"S-s-h! Listen a moment, Joe," interjected Tom from the bow of the boat. "What noise's that?"

"Don't hear anythin' 'cept the river. What sort o' noise, Tom?"

"I heered it, Joe," said Yellow Billy. "Bear cryin', I bin thinkin'. Heer it now."

All the boys could hear the sounds now, faint enough, yet distinct above the flood roar.

"Bear, I 'speck! Have a good look round, boys."

All eyes were bent in the direction of the sound. They scanned the trees for that strange, pouch-bearing--half bear, half sloth--animal called the native bear. Strictly speaking, it is neither bear nor sloth, being a perfectly harmless, tailless marsupial of the koala genus. Its cry is intensely, and often pathetically, human.

For some time the search was unrewarded; while ever and anon a cry, strangely like an infant's wail, came to the ears of the searchers.

"P'r'aps, after all, it's only the wind in the river oaks; or is it a----"

"Look, boys! look, look!" cried Tom excitedly. "What's that over at the edge of the timber, up there in a fork?"

"Whereaway, Tom?"

"See the clump beyond the back-water, out in the stream?"

"M--y-e-s, I see. Why, yes, my word! I do believe it's a----"

*CHAPTER VIII*

*WHAT THE TREE HELD*

"Thereafter grew the wind; and chafing deaths In distant waters, sent a troubled cry Across the slumbrous forest; and the chill Of coming rain was on the sleeper's brow." HENRY KENDALL.

"James!" exclaimed Mrs. Blain to her husband during this eventful morning, "it's dinner-time and those lads are not back. I hope nothing has happened."

"What do you expect could have happened, you dear old fidget? I'm going to the post, however, and I'll have a look round."

Could Mr. Blain have beheld the lads at this particular time, the calm of his deep nature would have been broken up in a fashion rare to his experience; for at this moment the boat and its occupants are being borne on the rapids, presently to be flung upon the riotous and foam-crested waves of the river.

In moving along the street the minister met several persons who had been out on the back-water during the morning. All had seen the boys at one time or another. One of the latest in, who had been farther up than most of the others, had passed the boys on his return not long before. They were then heading up the swamp way.

"Don't fear, Mr. Blain, the boys know how to take care of themselves. Dinner's calling 'em loudly enough by this time, I wager ye."

Dinner-time came and went, but no boys. As the afternoon wore on the mother's fears deepened until they became well-nigh unendurable. The minister, rowed by two of the neighbours, set out to find the truants and fetch them back.

"Don't lose faith, dear! They're up to some prank, the thoughtless scamps! I'll fetch them home none the worse, to laugh at your fears."

Following Tom's index-finger, the boys fastened their eyes upon a clump of river oaks that stood on the edge of the woods.

High up in a fork of one of the largest trees, they could see what looked at first like a huge bundle of clothes fluttering in the wind. After a short while the bundle seemed to take a somewhat definite shape.

"What in the name of goodness is it all? Seems like a lot of old clothes jammed in the tree forks. Are you sure that the squall, or squeak, or squeal, or whatever it was, came from that direction?"

"Yes, I think so," replied Tom. "Listen, there it's again!" A thin, treble cry rose faintly above the din of the flood waters.

"See a woman's foot!"

The speaker was the half-caste, whose eyesight, owing to his half-wild nature, was much keener than his fellows'.

"A woman's foot, Billy! What do you mean? You don't mean to say really, that----!"

"See hand too! Look along bark. See fingers!"

Thus directed, the three boys looked, and saw, though but indistinctly, what appeared to be a hand grasping the tree-trunk, a foot, also, was revealed at intervals by the fluttering garment.

After a short, staring silence, a flood of mental light broke upon Joe. "I see now. Why, it's the poor soul we heard cooeeing last night!"

Yes, there had been plenty of speculation in the village as to who it could be, and exactly where the voice came from. None of those who heard the piteous wail that was borne across the floods in the black and wild darkness of that night would forget it for many a long day to come.

The mystery is now solved. The boys are horror-stricken at the sight and its sequent thought. They are now convinced that a woman is fixed in the tree. Without reasoning the matter out, they identify her as the one whose cry over night produced such a sensation in the township, and to locate which the police boat with a strong crew had started out at daybreak, but without success.

_Is she alive or dead_? The strange cry did not seem to be that of a woman. There was something so eerie, so shocking in the thought, that the lads were fear-possessed for some moments. Joe, as usual, recovered himself first.

"It's a woman sure enough! It's a human being, at any rate. An', boys, we've got to rescue her if she is alive. The cry can only come from her, I'm sure, so that there must be some life left still. How to do it I can't just see at this moment. We must think a bit."

Think a bit they did. Camped as they were at the lower end of the timber, it would be a matter of comparative ease to work up through the trees in the slack water, till they arrived opposite to the clump that stood out in the stream. There the real difficulties would begin. The rush of waters was still so strong, and the space for the play of the boat so small, that it became evident the rescue would be accompanied by some alarming risks.

One of two things must be done: either wait until the waters receded sufficiently to enable the rescuers to wade to the clump, or make an immediate dash.

"How long d'you think it'd be before we could wade across, Joe?"

"Dunno, Billy. Beckon there's eight or nine foot of water out there. Might be less. At any rate it'd be hours."

"Hours!" cried Tom. "An' s'posin' that poor creature's still alive?"

"That settles it!" exclaimed Joe, rising in his seat in excitement. "Boys, what's to be done must be done quickly."

Seemingly all were agreed. At least no objection was offered to this proposal, or, rather, mandate. So it was resolved, after some cogitation, to pull the boat through the timber to a point some distance higher up than the isolated clump. From thence the course would be outwards until the river current was met; an estimated distance of a hundred yards. The boat was to be headed against the current when in the stream influence. A vigorous row would be necessary to neutralise the current, to be modified so as to allow the craft to drift slowly down-stream. Then, when opposite the clump, a dash for the tree whereon the unfortunate woman was lying was to be made.

Inasmuch as this tree was almost in the centre of the group, and the stream still ran with violence, it was easy to see that without skilful management, and some luck, the boat might be stove in against a tree-bole; or, worse still, might be impaled upon a submerged snag. Any accident, such as missing way at a critical moment, or the snapping of an oar blade, might be fraught with the most disastrous consequences.

During the short conference Jimmy Flynn had kept silence. Towards the end, as Joe set forth the attendant dangers, he became considerably perturbed. After sundry wrigglings and contortions, rubbing of hands and licking of lips, these visual twistings found voice.

"I say, Joe! don't--er--yer think that--er--we'd better wait a bit?"

"Why?" chorused the boys.

"Oh--I--I dunno. Well--er--p'raps some other boat'll come over from the township d'reckly an'--an'----"

"And s'pose no boat comes along?"

"Well, then, I--I--er--vote--that we--er----"

"By jing! Jimmy," interposed Tom, with a jeer, "who'd 'a' thought you'd 'a' showed the white feather!"

"White feather yourself, Hawkins!" returned the fearful but now angry boy.

"Jimmy!" broke in Yellow Billy unexpectedly, for as a rule the half-caste was taciturn--the taciturnity of modesty in his case. Billy, while carrying some of the defects of aboriginal descent, was a kind-hearted and easily contented lad. "Jimmy!" said he, in a soft, quiet tone, "s'pose your mother was over there?"

Jimmy Flynn, who was sitting with a sullen, hang-dog expression, quivered as though he had received an electric shock. There was within him a consciousness of the truth of Tom's term. He was a coward, and the very notion of it angered him, and at the same time made him resentful. He shrank from the undertaking. None of the boys were in love with it, for that matter. Jimmy only, among the four, allowed his fear to overmaster him.

These few words of Billy, uttered in a quiet, even tone, went straight to the boy's heart. His sullen brows lifted. The angry resentment which had disfigured his face vanished. Straightening his bent figure, he seized the oar lying by his side. Then, squaring his shoulders, as he inclined forward to grip the water, he said quietly, "Let her go."

Immediately on releasing the boat Joe steered her in a semicircular course, keeping out back where the standing timber was thinnest. The boys pulled slowly, for there was always the danger of snags. They were in fairly slack water, and so had no need to exert themselves; besides which, it were wise to husband their strength for the supreme moment.

Tom and Jimmy, both expert oarsmen, were the rowers. Yellow Billy was stationed in the bow, with instructions to keep a keen look out for snags. He was armed with a stout pole in order that he might fend the boat on any critical occasion, or when the rudder might be inoperative. It formed a very useful instrument in Billy's practised hands, and enabled him to ward off the craft from many dangers that did not appear until the boat was almost upon them. As it was there were several ominous scrapes, as the boat rasped over submerged branches. Fortunately they reached the point determined upon without any accident.

They paused here a moment before leaving the slack water for the swiftly running stream.

"Now, boys," said Joe, after a brief survey, "sit steady, and pull for all you're worth. Mind you, no flurry. Keep an even stroke. Got the painter coiled, Billy?"

"All right, Joe."

"Pull then, boys, and stick to it like grim death to a diseased nigger."

The boat having got good way on, Joe headed her out a little, when she immediately encountered the current.

"Lay to it, my lads, lay to it!"

The boys "lay to" with such vigour that the rapid current was counterbalanced, and she hung in the stream, neither making headway nor drifting.

"Easy a little, my hearties! We must let her drift down gradually. Mustn't let her get out of hand, though."

In swinging the boat into the channel Joe kept her nose up-stream, and as near the slack water as possible. The boys easing a trifle at Joe's command, the current became the stronger of the two forces, and the little craft drifted slowly. Blain eagerly scanned the clump for an opening. This cluster, it may be remarked, was about two hundred yards long and fifty or so wide. In some parts the timber was thickly scattered, in others the trees were bunched together.

The boat is now about fifty yards above the tree containing the supposed woman.

"That's right, chaps, keep up as you're doin'! We must drift very slowly lest we miss the chance of popping in. It's too thick to venture in here. It's thinnin' out, though," exclaimed Joe, as the boat neared the point abreast the tree.

"Here's an opening, I do believe. Be ready, Billy! Pull, lads! pull, pull! Look out all!"

The boat lay anglewise, so that the current worked upon her quarter. Seeing a fair opening, Joe urged the rowers to do their utmost. So hard did they pull that the current, playing upon her quarter as she hung a few minutes stationary, forced her through the gap and towards the tree. The manoeuvre was splendidly executed. The boat was now within five yards or so of the tree, the boys putting every ounce of strength into their strokes. A minute or less now and they will either be fast to the tree or drifting down on to a solid block of timber just below.

Yellow Billy, who had crouched in the bow, now rose up quietly, rope in hand, ready to act promptly in the decisive moment. By good fortune a limb projected about five feet above the water, and branched out some distance from the tree. Joe worked the boat straight up-stream, and then called on the rowers to ease the barest trifle. The craft swung very slowly down, until she was fairly under the limb.

"Sling the painter over the branch an' make fast, Billy!" cried Joe, as the stern drifted under. "Pull now, you beggars, a last spurt!"

Billy whipped the rope round the limb, and made fast in a flash; the rowers, by a few desperate strokes, keeping the boat stationary.

"Hold her there a second. Let the loop lie loose an' edge it to the trunk, Billy!"

Joe thus worked the boat over until she was just at the rear of the tree.

"Ease her off gently now, boys. Steady still! A wrench might snap the painter."

The boys accordingly eased off gradually, and finally stopped.

"Two of you come aft, it'll ease the strain."

This done, the boat, which by burying her nose deep in the water was straining heavily on the rope, trimmed herself, and offered but the minimum resistance to the racing waters.

The tree-bole, which presented a somewhat broad surface, divided the waters, creating a narrow zone of neutral water in its wake. In this eddying area the boat rode securely, making it an easy matter for the bowman to keep her nose up against the tree.

And now each boy bent an upward glance to the fork.

*CHAPTER IX*

*THE RESCUE*

"Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me-- Death closes all: but something ere the end, Some work of noble note, may yet be done, Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods." TENNYSON'S _Ulysses_.

Fortunately the she-oak was one of the largest of its kind, and forked out into four branches twenty feet or so from the ground. This formed a rough cage, in which one could be held very securely if not comfortably.

In this fork, partially covered with a blanket, was huddled the form of a human creature, presumably a woman; one hand stretched along the trunk as in a painful grip, the legs hanging loosely. There was no movement of limb or body. What if she were dead?

A sudden chill accompanied this thought. The situation was decidedly uncanny, and bred awesome, not to say fearsome, feelings.

Four boys in a boat! Out on the flood-wastes, and in a particularly perilous position! The insistent noises of the rushing tide; the hollow moan of the wind in the foliage of the she-oaks; shut out from all help; missed now at home, and _that thing above_!

All these combined to create a creeping chill in each boy, which in a manner half-paralysed them.

Joe, as usual, recovered more quickly than the others. Gazing at the object above awhile, and then examining the trunk of the tree with his eyes, he broke the spell of silence.

"Take my place, Tom. Some un's got to go at once to that poor soul aloft. Pray God we're in time to save her. Keep her up tight against the trunk, Jimmy, an' I'll swing on to the limb."

Suiting his action to the word, Joe clambered on to the limb, and from thence proceeded to climb the tree.

The woman was fixed at the junction of the forks, and her feet and legs hung loosely down on each side of a minor fork. One arm, as before described, was wound round the main limb, while the other firmly grasped her breast. Her head was supported in the V of a branch.

On mounting to the spot, Joe raised himself higher by grasping two of the tree-forks, and, twisting his legs round the trunk, steadied himself while he gazed into the face of the dead. It was the first time in his life that he had looked upon death. The set expression that met his gaze, so full of anguish, so pitifully pleading, fairly shocked him out of his self-possession. Little wonder at his turning sick and faint. He clutched the branch frantically as he swayed a moment, and beads of cold sweat stood thick upon his forehead. Indeed, so near fainting was he that his sight began to fade, and the whole world receded from him. Strange noises buzzed in his ears. Bringing all the reserve forces of his will to the front, he was beginning to gain the ascendency over his weakness, when a strange cry startled him into full consciousness.

"Why! she's not dead after all, thank God!" The thought of life made all the difference to Joe. In a moment his vision is as clear as ever, and his spirits rise high at the sounds of life. "Yes, see!" whispered the lad, "there's a movement of the breast. Hurrah, boys!"

cried he to his comrades, looking down and waving with one hand at the same time. "She's not dead after all!"

The boys at this set up a hearty shout indicative of their relief and joy.

"Oh yes!" he muttered reassuringly to himself as he took the second look, "the poor creature's alive. Her eyes are half open. Her chest is heaving. Wake up, ma'am! Rescue is at hand. Me an' the boys in the boat below are goin' to take you down an' row you across to the township."

The woman made no response to this appeal and plan of salvation. "Is she really alive?" The eyes are half closed and seemingly peering; the form is rigid, the face immobile. There was naught of that expression in this countenance that Joe, from hearsay, was wont to associate with death--the peace that passeth understanding. Yet as the lad gazed at this apparently inanimate object there was a movement of the body. The blanket, bunched into many folds across the breast, stirred visibly.

Again that eerie, inarticulate cry!

Disengaging one hand from the tree, the boy stretched it forth to the woman's breast, which, covered as it was with the clothes, had all the seeming of life and movement.

Joe was in the very act of removing a fold of the blanket, when suddenly, and without the slightest warning, there rose up into the lad's face an angry, hissing, venomous snake, the deadliest of its kind. Its beady eyes glittered; its forked tongue shot in and out with inconceivable rapidity; its sibilant hiss was accompanied with a musky odour, sickening in the extreme; its head and body for half its length were erect, and bent forward from the neck, vibrating and swaying in a rhythmic movement. The reptile was within striking distance. In another second that almost invisible death-stroke will be dealt; invisible, that is, by reason of its lightning-like speed.