Ralph Barbour - Four Afoot - Being the Adventures of the Big Four on the Highway

“Come on,” said Dan. “Let’s see what’s up.”

So they quickened their pace, turned off from the road, and made their way to the float.

“What’s the matter?” asked Dan.

“There’s a dog under here,” explained a youth. “We were throwing pieces of wood for him and he was fetchin’ them out. Then, first thing we knew, the current took him somehow and sucked him under the float. He’s there now. Hear him?”

They listened and presently there came a faint, smothered yelp from under the planks almost at their feet. By that time half the inhabitants of the float had joined them, eager to tell all about it.

“How long has he been under there?” asked Bob.

“Ten minutes.”

“Five minutes.”

“Three minutes.”

The answers were varied. The boys hurried over to the side. The tide was running out hard and the river, flowing through the narrow culvert under the bridge, made a strong current which swirled against the float until it tugged at its moorings.

“Here’s where he went under,” explained one of their informants. “We were throwing sticks for him out there and he was having a bully time. He was a plucky little chap. Then the current took him and he went down. And next thing he was yelping like thunder underneath here.”

The float, inch-thick boards spiked to big logs, rested in the water so that the floor was some six inches above the surface. The dog had apparently come up underneath, was penned in by the logs, and was managing to keep his head out of water by hard swimming.

“What kind of a dog is it?” asked Nelson.

“Fox terrier, I guess.”

“Wire-haired terrier.”

“Irish terrier.”

“Well, he’s small, is he?” asked Bob impatiently.

“Yes.” They all agreed as to that. Bob turned to the others.

“Who’s going under?” he asked.

“Let me go,” said Tom. But Dan had already thrown off his coat and kicked off his shoes.

“Dan’s a better diver than you, Tom,” said Bob. “Let him try it first. I guess there’s plenty of breathing space under there, Dan.”

“Sure,” answered Dan, struggling out of his shirt. “Anyone heard the poor little chap lately?”

No one had, but at that moment, as though in answer to Dan’s inquiry, a faint, gurgling sound came from under the floor.

“There he is,” said Nelson. “I’ll stand here and call to you, Dan. You want to go under about twelve feet.”

“All right,” said Dan. “If I don’t show up inside of half a minute and you don’t hear from me, one of you chaps had better come in.”

“All right,” answered Bob; “I’ll be ready.”

Then Dan dropped feet foremost over the edge of the float and went down out of sight in the rushing green water. A moment after those leaning over the edge caught a glimpse of a kicking leg. Then several seconds passed. The crowd on the float listened breathlessly. At last, from under the boards and a few feet away, came Dan’s voice.

“All right, Nel! Where are you?”

“Here!” called Nelson, his mouth at one of the cracks.

“Must be the next section,” answered Dan’s muffled voice. “Wait a minute.”

There was a faint splashing sound, silence, and again came Dan’s voice.

“I’ve got him!” he called. “I’m coming out the other side.”

A moment later Dan’s wet head and a half-drowned wire-haired terrier appeared at the same moment. The dog was held out at arm’s length and Bob seized him. Others gave their hands to Dan and he was quickly pulled out on to the float.

“Gee, that water’s cold!” he gasped. “How’s the dog? He was just about gone when I got to him. He had managed to get one paw into a crevice in a log, but his head was under water half the time, I guess. Who’s got him?”

“Here he is,” said Bob. “He’s all right. About scared to death, I guess, and pretty well soaked.”

“Maybe he’s swallowed some water,” suggested Tom. “Hold him upside down a minute.”

Bob obeyed and nearly half a pint of salt water streamed out of the dog’s mouth. After that he seemed much better, but was content for the moment to lie in Bob’s arms and gasp and shiver, looking up the while into Bob’s face with an expression which surely meant gratitude. He was a forlorn little thing when they finally set him down and he feebly shook himself. The hair was plastered close to his body, and his inch of tail wagged feebly.

“Who’s dog is he?” asked Nelson.

“I don’t know,” said one of the throng. “He’s been around here for a couple of days. Don’t believe he belongs to anyone. There isn’t anything on the collar; I looked.”

Some one brought Dan a couple of towels from one of the bath houses and he dried himself as best he could. Afterwards he trotted about the float a minute and along the edge of the little beach.

“Say, he’s a plucky one, he is,” said one of the youths to Nelson.

“Who’s that?” asked Nelson.

“Why, that friend of yours; him that got the dog out.”

“Oh, yes, Dan’s plucky,” answered Nelson. “But that wasn’t any stunt for Dan. That’s one of the easiest things he does.” And he turned away, leaving the youth staring hard.

“Well, let’s get on,” said Dan, tying the last shoe lace.

So they started back toward the road, leaving the crowd, which had grown steadily for the last five minutes, looking admiringly at Dan’s broad back. When they had reached the road, there was a shout from the float and they looked back.

“Hey! There comes the dog!” some one called.

And sure enough, there was the terrier close behind them. He apparently had no doubts as to his welcome. His tiny tail was wagging busily as he went up to Bob, sniffed at his legs, and then turned and made straight for Dan, a few feet away.

“Hello,” said Dan; “you remember me, do you?”

For answer the dog placed his front paws on Dan’s knee and looked inquiringly up into his face.

“I believe he knows you rescued him,” said Bob.

“Of course he does,” said Dan. “You’ve got sense, haven’t you, Towser?”

The terrier sneezed and wagged his tail frantically, pawing at Dan’s knee.

“Hello; catching cold, are you?” Dan picked him up and snuggled him in his arms. “That won’t do. Mustn’t catch cold, you know.” The dog licked Dan’s face and wriggled ecstatically.

“He seems to like you,” said Tom. “Dogs are funny creatures.”

“He’s a nice little dog,” said Dan as he dropped him gently to the ground again. “I wouldn’t mind having him.”

“Wonder if he really is a stray?” said Nelson.

“Well, come on, fellows; it’s getting late,” said Bob, “and we’re only a little more than halfway to Meadowville.”

“Now you run along home, Mr. Dog,” said Dan, shaking his finger at the terrier. The terrier seemed to understand, for his manner became at once sorrowful and dejected. He watched them go off without a wag of his tail. Presently Dan stole a backward glance. The terrier was stealing along behind them some twenty yards back. Dan said nothing. A few minutes later Bob and Nelson became aware of something trotting along in the rear. They turned. The terrier stopped with one foot in the air. His tail wagged conciliatingly.

“Go home!” said Bob sternly.

The dog dropped his head and began to sniff at the ground as though the last thing in his mind was following them. Nelson and Tom laughed.

“Oh, let him come,” muttered Dan.

“It wouldn’t be fair,” said Bob firmly. “He must belong to some one and they’d probably feel bad if they lost him.”

“All right,” said Dan. “You get along home, doggie.”

But doggie was busy now following an imaginary scent along the side of the road.