CHAPTER X

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*THE RETURN*

"See the conquering hero comes! Sound the trumpet, beat the drums."

After baby's hunger was satisfied the boys' attention was given to their immediate surroundings.

"What are we goin' to do about _her_?" asked Tom, pointing upward as he spoke.

"It's simply impossible for us to do anything. If she were alive we would take any risk. But as things are it is beyond our power to shift the body, it is jammed so tightly. The only thing left for us to do is to inform the police when we get to the other side."

"What'll we do now, Joe?"

"Get back to our former anchorage first. River's goin' down pretty fast, I reckon; and it'll be all dry about here before morning if it recedes at the same rate. The current is not nearly so strong as it was when we came over, and that will make it easier for us to get out of the clump. There's no need for us to go back by the same course. We can take a slant across to that red gum, and when we're there we're out of the stream."

The exit from the cluster of trees was very well managed, and in a few minutes from the time of casting adrift from the she-oak the boat was out of the clump and across the narrow stream into the slack water. They continued on to their former camping place, and hitched on to the tree.

This gallant attempt at rescue, though not accomplishing what was in the minds of the boys, was not altogether a failure. Indeed, it was the reverse of that. Though but little time is consumed in reading the account of this episode, it covered a goodly portion of the day. By the time the boys had made fast to their former anchorage, the slanting sun-rays proclaimed the advance of eventide.

"Let's have a confab, chaps, on what's best to be done. I don't s'pose any of us is wanting to stick here all night. What d'you say, Tom?"

"I say pull over to the hillock on the other side of the slack. See! the water's retreated from the high ground. We could camp there, I dare say, easy enough, and get home early to-morrow morning. I don't think we ought to tackle the river to-night. I bet you it'd be a measly, tricky trip. So I vote to do as I said."

"What d'you say, Billy?"

"I say same as Tom. Plenty dry land over there. Might get matches in that house behind the hill. I'll pull 'possum outa spout, an' we'll roast 'im an' make bully feed."

Billy, as indeed were all the boys, was beginning to feel desperately hungry.

"What have you got to say, Jimmy?"

Jimmy Flynn, who had been gazing wistfully across the flood waters, turned round slowly as Joe put the question to him. "Oh, Joe! can't we get home to-night? The river isn't so bad as when we crost up at the Bend. There's not nearly so much timber goin' down now. 'Sides, it's easier crossing down here to what it was above. I give a straight vote for--home!"

"Bravo! Well done, Jimmy! You're a brick. It's just the word, an' we're the coves to do it. It's my vote too, my hearties. We've half an hour of sun left: say an hour before it's right dark. I reckon 'twill be about two mile an' a half from here to Tareela. It won't be near as difficult as up by the Bend. Yes, we'll do it, boys; an' the sooner the better. Then there's the blessed little baby, you know! Some of us would have to mind her in the night, an' what about your beauty sleep then? I reckon the kiddie would be too much for the whole boilin' of us. And I've a notion that too much fruit'll be worse for her than none at all. S'pose she gets the jim-jams! And, lastly, as father says when he's preaching, what about the old folks at home?"

There was no need to say anything further.

"I'm game, for one," said Tom.

"I'm game, for two," said Billy.

"I'm game, for three," said Jimmy.

"Put me down for the fourth," said Joe.

"Now, boys, that's settled. We'll tackle the river straight away; for better or for worse, as dad says in the marriage ceremony. And I say, chaps, let's ask God to help us."

Though there was no audible form of expression, the spirit of prayer was in each boy's heart. He who sat above the floods heard and answered.

"Billy and Jimmy are to take the oars. We want the best men at the paddles. Now then, Tom, let the painter go an' keep the pole handy for driftwood."

The painter is slipped, and the boat's head is turned riverwards. She is soon out of the slack, and feels the full force of the flood. The starting-point was nearly a mile and a half above the township, so that there was a liberal margin for drift. The river was quite a mile wide. There was still a quantity of driftwood, and many difficulties beset them which made delicate steering and skilful management incumbent. When they had travelled about half the distance, Tom, who was eagerly conning the other shore, gave a shout, pointing at the same time to a headland above the village.

"Some 'un's waving! See 'em, over there!"

Mrs. Blain was the first to spy the advancing boat. The boys' mothers had been trapsing the lagoon shore and river-side for hours, in a semi-demented manner. The minister and the others had returned after a fruitless errand. The police, with a strong crew in the Government whale-boat, were scouring the shores in the vicinity of the Bend, and had not returned. The disappearance of the boys had seemed most mysterious until the break-away was discovered. Then the accident as it really happened was immediately conjectured. The profoundest sensation was created in the village, for the boys were dearly loved by all.

The feelings of the poor parents may be but faintly imagined. Great was the relief, therefore, when Mrs. Blain, whose eyes were devouring the flood waters in her frantic eagerness to discover some hopeful sign, suddenly screamed out in an alarming manner, gesticulating wildly as she did so, and acting to outward seeming in a frenzied fashion. Other searchers, scattered along the river-bank, hearing the piercing cry, and seeing the untoward gestures of the joy-possessed woman, came running towards her, thinking for the moment that she had lost her reason.

"See, see!" screamed she, pointing to a distant spot on the waters. "They're saved, they're saved! God be praised, our lovely boys are returning all safe; yes, one, two, three, four--the darlings."

Looking in the direction indicated, the neighbours saw, far out on the wild, impetuous, wreckage-strewn waters, a tiny boat with four slight figures running the blockade; threading their course between the thousand objects which intervene and threaten destruction.

The good news is now shouted from end to end of the township, and in a few minutes the river-bank is lined with exultant and yet anxious spectators. For the joy of the discovery of the lads is almost quenched at times by sights of the perils of the passage.

The mothers of Joe, Tom, and Jimmy are grouped together, wrought up to such a pitch of anxiety as to be well-nigh silent. They noted every danger and counted every oar-stroke. The gallant rowers lifted their blades in the twilight, as the last rays sparkled on the flowing waters. Beyond a landward look the boys had no time to bestow upon the excited spectators. Eye and mind, in close conjunction, are continuously engaged in evading danger and maintaining the boat's position.

"We'll make the point," exclaimed Joe, after an interval of silence. "We'll make the point, all right. Keep her steady, lads," turning the boat's nose, as he spoke, well up stream, at an angle inclining shorewards. "Now, pull like a prize crew for five minutes an' we're there. We're out of the driftwood as it is."

The rowers needed no further stimulus. They bent to the oars like old salts.

"Capital! just the stroke! Keep it up! Hear 'em cheering!"

The cheering spurred on the boys, and in less than five minutes they landed in the midst of a wildly excited and loud-cheering crowd. And wasn't there a hugging and kissing, and hand-shaking and back-slapping!

Just as the women were up to their necks in it, to use a homely figure, some one happened to glance at the boat. The glance extorted a scream.

"A baby, a darling baby! See, see, see! a little baby in the boat!"

A moment's dazed surprise, and every one crowded to the boat. Joe, who had not moved far from the boat's nose, and who only waited for the violence of the welcome to abate a little that he might call attention to the precious freight, waved the jostling crowd back, and in a few words related the incident of the rescue.

A great wave of feeling passed over the crowd as he spoke. The women wept copiously as the scene was conjured us, and strong men unconsciously shed briny tears as the story reached its culminating point of the discovery of the helpless and orphaned babe, bound to the dead breast of her who had thus made the great sacrifice of motherhood.

While Joe was reciting the story of the rescue, Jimmy Flynn held on to his mother's arm and whispered excitedly into her ear. The narrator had hardly finished ere Mrs. Flynn stepped forward to his side and faced the crowd. Ordinarily, this woman was undemonstrative and shy. Now she is unconscious of any timidity. The moment was an inspired one; to produce which Jimmy's whisperings had played an important part.

"Mr. Blain, and friends all, give me the darling baby. It'll take the place of the one God took from me last month. The clothes'll fit----"

The bereft mother could get no further. Any woman who has lost a child will tell you why.

"My friends, you all know Mrs. Flynn, as I know her. If it were a matter of choosing between you, I should still say that no one in the town is better fitted for the sacred duty of mothering this little flood-driven stranger. None of us can say to whom the child belongs; whether there is a father or near relations. But until it is claimed by those who can prove the right to do so, the very best of all possible arrangements, and one I regard as providential, will be for Mrs. Flynn to take this baby to nourish and cherish it."

The murmurs of assent were unanimous. Joe, without any more delay, stepped into the boat, and, picking up the child--which all this time looked round, wondering in its baby way at this ado--put the little one into its foster-mother's hands.

The river baby was evidently delighted beyond measure to receive a warm motherly embrace; judging, at any rate, by the way it gooed and crowed.

As soon as she could get through the admiring throng, Mrs. Flynn hastened home, and before long the baby, washed and dressed anew, was filling its "little Mary" with sweet new milk.

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