“This bridge didn’t wash out,” he told Jack, who had followed him over the slippery rocks.
“Looks that way, Jack.” Mr. Livingston showed him where the wires had been snipped with a cutter.
“I’d guess so. He may be on his feet by this time, or he could have ordered his men to let the bridge go.”
“Willie and War wouldn’t have stood for that.”
“Not if they could have prevented it. But they haven’t answered our smoke signals. I’m afraid they may be in trouble too.”
“It might suit Rhodes very well to have us stranded on this side of the river.”
“We know he didn’t swallow our story about looking for Appleby Corning,” Mr. Livingston nodded. “He must have suspected we were searching for the old mine. Now he intends to keep us stranded until he and his wife can get away.”
“We’re stranded, all right,” Jack muttered, staring at the boiling waters. “No big trees close by, even if we could fell one and cross on its trunk.”
“We can’t stay here much longer,” Mr. Livingston said. “Willie and War may need us as much as we need them. We’ve got to get back to camp!”
“It’s our best bet, I think. We’re all good swimmers, with exception of Phillipe. The current is swift, but I think we can make it.”
The Scouts set to work, pegging out a rounded shape, somewhat smaller than a waterproof tarp included in their equipment. This accomplished, they used dry twigs and small pieces of wood to fill in between the pegs, and lashed it all firmly together with stout twine.
Next, they built a floor of webbed sticks and then removed the pegs. Finally the bundle was slid onto the waterproof tarp which was lashed securely in place around the circle. As the last step, they attached a long rope.
“Not a bad little raft,” Jack declared, surveying the finished job. “She should carry one of us at a time without trouble.”
Mr. Livingston offered to go first, but the others would not have it so. Jack insisted that he was the strongest swimmer, and after some argument, the Scout leader reluctantly agreed that he might make the initial trip. Phillipe, meanwhile, had hacked out a crude paddle.
With Ken and Mr. Livingston holding an end of the rope, Jack settled himself firmly on the circular tarp raft, and shoved off.
The fast current caught the craft, whirling it. For a minute, Jack was afraid he was going under. Icy water splashed over his legs. The awkward craft twisted and turned in the grasp of the racing stream.