HE levee had breached at St. Claire on April 6th, and the terminal levee above the mouth of the St. Francis had been broken at several places below Whitehall. Coming down St. Francis Bend Kalas and the boys saw Crowley’s Ridge toward the southwest, rising out of the area of the flood, a safe refuge in the midst of the inundation.
At the end of the great hill the little city of Helena was fighting the tide to save itself, and taking up collections of food-stuffs for the hungry refugees down the river. Perhaps no town knew the river better than Helena. Some of its old-timers harked back to the days when pirates had their rendezvous just below the St. Francis mouth, and used a steamer to carry their loot from the ricer craft down to New Orleans. On the bluffs overlooking the town were graveyards where the monuments bore witness to the explosions and fires on river craft. Along the levee below the town were great sawmills, closed down in order that the men might fight the flood.
Here Kalas listened to the news and views of the levees and flood down-stream. It was wonderful that this the greatest flood ever known had been so successfully resisted. With 1466 miles of levee to be watched, only five crevasses had occurred in the upper third of the river bottoms, where there had been fewer scores of years of experience in constructing and maintaining them.
Here, too, the sheriff handed him the notice of a reward that had been offered. He glanced carelessly at the notice and then raised his brows and stared.
"I ’lowed you might catch sight of ’im," the sheriff said. "Picking up a hundred dollars in flood times is easy, sometimes."
"I’m interested," Kalas admitted, folding the handbill and tucking it into his pocket with care.
When he went on board the open launch again, he handed the notice to Jimmy, and leaned back against the splash-board to enjoy the effect. Jimmy unfolded the paper curiously, and read the notice with increasing interest:
"Wha—wha—wha—" Jimmy stammered. "Reward for Jep!"
"Looks like!" Kalas remarked, glancing at Sibley, who read the notice.
"Why, that’s our baby!" Sibley declared angrily. "Jep’s got a right to him! We found him first!"
"Let’s see," Kalas calculated: "that is dated April sixth, and we are two hundred and seventy miles below there. If he’s on the run and in a hurry he’ll make seventy miles a day. You can look for him any time now!"
The three looked up the river, and there was no place where a better view of the majestic flow could be had than from the Helena levee crest. The surface sloped up a miles-long grade, and the rise of the distance was clearly seen—up and up till the surface disappeared around the bend to the left.
They watched all the rest of the day, and just before sunset the two youths caught a flash of window-glass. Taking the binoculars that Kalas had left in the launch, Sibley examined that distant shape, which might be a house that had drifted from its foundations, or might be any one of several thousand shanty-boats.
"We can run out and see!" Jimmy suggested, and while one cast off the line the other started the motor.
In a minute they were clear of the levee and edging out to the current, where they drifted for a few minutes, and then boldly breasted the flood and worked out into the way of the cabin boat. They had calculated well, and they again saw a reflection, this time as the window caught the rays of arc-lights over the top of the levee.
With their search-light beam they picked up the dark shanty-boat, and as they approached it both boys exclaimed:
"Our boat, sure!"
Then Jimmy hailed:
"Wu-hoo! Jep!"
There was no answer. They ran alongside and found a line leading from a timber-head to a willow-tree that was floating in the current. While Sib cast his line off the willow and made fast to the shanty-boat, Jimmy boarded and ran into the cabin.
In vain he called and in vain he lighted a lamp to look about! The boat was empty, deserted. He looked under the cots, behind the hanging clothes, under the bow and stern decks, and even on the roof. Neither Jep nor the baby was there, although baby-garments and even Jep’s cap were in the cabin, as though the two had stepped out only for a minute.
Jimmy, his face blanched by worry, called to Sibley, who was towing the house-boat ashore, and told him—what Sibley already knew from Jimmy’s exclamations—that it was deserted.