CHAPTER II

THE SAVING OF NODDY

“How did it happen, Andy?” asked Jerry, as he ran along.

“Yes, tell us more about it,” urged Bob.

“Is it the big reservoir dam that’s broken?” asked Ned. “If it is, there’ll be a lot of damage, and yet I don’t hear any great excitement,” and he paused a moment to listen if he could catch the roar of rushing waters. But there came no unusual sound from the direction of the river which bordered the town of Cresville, where the boys lived.

“I don’t know--didn’t see it!” panted Andy. “Old Pete Bumps told me--said it was the dam--terrible--everything washed away--come on--wow!”

“Oh, if it was old Pete Bumps, our hired man, who told you, it can’t be so bad,” returned Bob Baker. “Pete always makes a big fuss over everything. Let’s take it easy, fellows.”

“You can’t tell,” interposed Jerry. “Something must have happened. I see a lot of fellows running toward the river,” and he nodded toward a side street, through which could be had a glimpse of a thoroughfare parallel to the one on which our friends were, both extending to the stream. “Come on,” finished the tall lad. “We’ll see what it is,” and he increased his pace, his companions doing likewise.

While I have just a few moments before the boys reach the river, and in which time they are doing nothing but running, and wondering what has happened, I will take the opportunity to tell you something about the chums, and the various books, previous to this one, in which they have figured.

The first volume of the series entitled, “The Motor Boys,” told how the chums got together, and entered a bicycle race. Later on they got motor-cycles, and then an automobile in which they had many adventures. They took a long trip overland, got possession of a gold mine, and later went to Mexico, where they were in great danger. But they managed to escape, and, on a long trip across the plains they rescued the hermit of Lost Lake.

After these adventures, our heroes decided that motor boating would suit them, and they succeeded in getting a fine craft. In the volume named, “The Motor Boys Afloat,” is told how the lads cruised in the _Dartaway_, and succeeded in finding the robbers who had broken into Mr. Slade’s department store.

The lads liked motor boating so well that they took a cruise on the Atlantic, during which they solved the mystery of the lighthouse, and, later on, they went to the strange waters of the Florida Everglades.

Naturally, after their adventures on the Atlantic, they turned their attention to the other ocean, the Pacific, and there they succeeded in locating a lost derelict.

By this time the science of navigating the air was becoming better known, and aeroplanes and dirigible balloons were being perfected. It could not be expected that such lads as the motor boys could be kept from this field of activity, and with the assistance of an old balloonist of experience, Rupert Glassford, Bob, Ned and Jerry built a motorship. In the book called “The Motor Boys in the Clouds,” I told how they made a great trip for fame and fortune, and, some time later they went over the Rocky Mountains, and solved the mystery of the air.

Thrilling indeed were the adventures that happened next, for when they made their voyage over the ocean they succeeded in rescuing from mid-air a certain Mr. Jackson, who was trying out a new kind of balloon. He and his crew were rendered unconscious by escaping gas, but they were brought around all right after hard work.

In the next book, “The Motor Boys on the Wing,” I told how the three chums sought and found the bank robbers, and recovered the stolen money. They had been home from this trip some little time, when the incident narrated in the first chapter of the present volume took place.

I might add that the three chums lived in the town of Cresville, not far from Boston. Their names you are already familiar with. Bob Baker, the fat lad, was the son of Mr. Andrew Baker, a well-known banker. Ned Slade’s father was Aaron Slade, a wealthy department store owner, while Jerry Hopkins was the son of a rich widow, Mrs. Julia Hopkins. The three lads were about the same age, full of fun, grit and the love of adventure.

Many times, though, their fun was spoiled by a mean, bullying lad of the town, Noddy Nixon by name, and his crony, Bill Berry. But the motor boys generally managed to get the best of Noddy in the end. In this they were sometimes aided by Andy Rush, the excitable little chap, who had given the alarm about the bursting dam. Andy was always excited, and sometimes by the slightest cause.

Professor Uriah Snodgrass was a well-known scientist. He often went with the boys on their trips, and he was continually on the lookout for rare bugs, or other specimens. He was employed by a well-known college, to get various articles for its museum, and often the professor would do odd things for the sake of getting a choice insect or reptile. He was a great friend of the boys, and often visited them at their houses. He had spent some time with Mr. Slade, who was one of the trustees of the college to which the professor was attached, and Mr. Snodgrass was about to return to his duties when, in a talk with Ned, the conversation turned to radium, as I have mentioned. But now all thoughts of that, and of Snake Island, were forgotten in the alarm raised by Andy.

“What do you think can have happened, anyhow?” asked Ned, as he raced along beside Jerry.

“I give it up; but it’s something, anyhow,” was the tall lad’s answer, “and that, in spite of the fact that you’ve usually got to discount what Andy says. Look at the crowd!”

As Jerry spoke he and the others reached the end of the street, and came in sight of the river. They could see that something out of the ordinary was taking place, but the stream did not seem to be unusually high, though it had risen somewhat on account of heavy spring rains.

“The big dam hasn’t burst, or we’d hear the roar of waters,” declared Ned.

“Yes, and we’d see ’em, too,” added Bob.

“Well, something busted, because Pete Bumps told me!” insisted Andy. “Maybe the bottom dropped out of the river--water may be all running away--ground sunk in--we’ll all fall through--whoop!”

“Andy!” cried Jerry. “Stop, or you’ll burst! Cool down; can’t you?”

“I can’t seem to,” answered the small lad. “Hey!” he cried, “there goes one house, anyhow,” and he pointed to a structure floating down the stream.

“That’s so!” agreed Bob. “It’s a boathouse, too. I wonder what’s up?”

They saw a moment later. Just above where the street on which they were running came out on the river front, was a small stream that joined the main one. This little stream had been dammed up, to provide a flow of water for an old-fashioned iron mill that used a turbine wheel. Part of this mill-dam had given way because of the heavy rains, and the waters that were held back had suddenly been released, to flow into the river proper.

There was quite a crowd collected on the both banks of the river, and employees from the mill were endeavoring to repair the break in the dam, by putting timbers in it, and filling in the gap with stones, sod and earth.

“Say, this isn’t such an awful flood!” cried Jerry as he took in the scene. “I thought you said the whole town was being washed away, Andy?”

“And you said houses were being carried down,” added Ned.

“Well, there’s one house washed away, anyhow,” declared the small, excitable chap, as if to justify himself.

“That’s so!” cried Bob, “and it’s Noddy Nixon’s boathouse. It’s been washed away, and it’s going right down the river.”

“It didn’t take much to wash it away,” said Jerry. “It was built too far out in the water, anyhow, and the piles it stood on weren’t much bigger than clothes poles. I always thought it would wash away if the water got high, and now it has.”

Noddy Nixon had recently built a new boathouse on a piece of land near the river. It was just below the mill dam, and, naturally, when the rush of waters came, the structure was carried away, for it was not securely built. It was now floating down the stream, careening from side to side in the rushing waters.

“Somebody ought to save that boathouse!” cried Andy.

“Let Noddy do it then,” answered Jerry. “It isn’t worth an awful lot, and it will be worth less when this flood gets through with it.”

“Look!” suddenly exclaimed Ned. “Some one is in the boathouse!”

He pointed toward it, and, at the same time a cry arose from the crowds on either bank.

“Some one’s in the house!” was the shout. “He’ll be drowned!”

“It’s a man!” yelled Andy.

“It’s Noddy himself!” cried Bob.

The figure on the narrow platform in front of the floating boathouse could now be plainly seen. It was that of Noddy, as Bob had said, and the bully who had been endeavoring, by means of a long pole, to push his house toward shore, now threw up his hands, and cried for help.

“It’s time he did that before,” commented Ned. “The current’s got him now, and he’ll never get that house to land.”

“Where was he all this while?” asked Bob. “I didn’t notice him at first.”

“Guess he must have been on the other side, out of sight,” spoke Jerry.

Noddy was now frantically rushing up and down, calling at the top of his voice:

“Help! Help!”

“Say!” suddenly cried Ned. “The rapids! He’ll be down in them soon, and they’re dangerous with the water as high as it is now! That house will be knocked to pieces!”

“That’s so!” agreed Jerry. “Noddy ought to swim ashore while he has the chance. Otherwise he may be hurt! I forgot about the rapids.”

The “rapids” were really not very dangerous at low water, but when the river rose, and dashed over the jagged rocks, about a mile below town, they formed eddies and whirlpools that were exceedingly risky to navigate. In fact no boats dare risk them with the stream at flood.

It was toward these rapids that Noddy’s boathouse, torn away by the waters, was rapidly drifting. The crowd soon realized this and began shouting advice.

“Swim ashore!”

“Get a boat and save him!”

“Jump off!”

“Throw him a rope!”

These were some of the expressions called to Noddy, but he paid no heed to them, continuing to race up and down on the platform, waving his hands, and yelling for help.

“Say, something ought to be done to help him,” remarked Ned in a low voice.

“Yes,” agreed Jerry. “It’s Noddy Nixon, and he’s been pretty mean to us, but I suppose----”

“Our motor boat!” interrupted Bob, pointing to a fine boathouse a little distance up the stream. It was where the boys kept their craft, and was above the point where the swollen mill stream joined the river, and so, consequently, was in no danger.

“I guess it’s up to us to save him,” said Jerry slowly. “Nobody else seems to have sense enough to do it. There aren’t any other motor boats near by.”

“Where’s Noddy’s, I wonder?” asked Mr. Snodgrass, for he knew that the bully owned a power craft.

“He had a collision with the dock the other day, and sprung a leak,” explained Andy Rush, who had cooled down somewhat. “His boat is laid up for repairs.”

“Like our auto,” put in Ned, for the machine of our heroes was across the river, in a distant town, being overhauled.

“Well, if we’re going to save Noddy Nixon, we’d better be getting a move on!” cried Jerry. “Come on, fellows!”

He raced toward their boathouse, followed by his two chums, the professor and Andy Rush. It was the work of but a few minutes to unchain the motor boat, run it out into the stream, start the engine and steer down after the floating boathouse with the frantic figure racing about on the platform.

“Hurrah!” yelled the crowd, when they saw our heroes start out. “The motor boys to the rescue! Noddy’ll be saved now, all right!”

“Help! Help!” yelled the bully, as his boathouse careened dangerously, almost throwing him into the water.

“The flood’s getting higher,” said Ned in a low voice, as he looked over the side of the boat. They were opposite the dam now, and in the grip of the rushing waters.

“Yes, there goes another slice of the dam!” cried Bob, as they saw a large portion of it slip into the water. The men on top, who had been endeavoring to stop the gap, had to race for shore.

“Say, we’re going to have our work cut out for us saving Noddy!” cried Jerry as he held the wheel in a firmer grasp.