elf when the time comes."

"Give us the word, Max?" Steve asked.

"All right, when you hear me shout 'now,' make your jump, and be sure
you've picked out the right place beforehand, or you may drop back
again."

Max could say no more, because they were so close to the little island
in the midst of the raging flood that he had to conserve his breath in
order to make a successful leap himself.

On the roof crouched the two girls, Bessie French and Mazie Dunkirk,
together with a little lame cousin of the former, a girl of about
eight. All of them were greatly interested in the coming of the boys,
and stared eagerly at the remarkable craft that was bearing them on the
surface of the flood. Perhaps they may have already jumped to the
conclusion that the whole town of Carson had been inundated and swept
away, and that these five lads might be the sole remaining survivors.
That thought would in part account for their white faces; though of
course their own perilous situation was enough to give them pale cheeks.

Max was on the alert. Just as the timbers came alongside the lower
edge of the roof he shot out that one energetic word:

"Now!"

Immediately every fellow was in motion, and as they had selected their
landing places beforehand, they fortunately did not interfere with each
other's movements. Such a remarkable scrambling as followed; if you
have ever watched a cat that has made too risky a jump, barely get her
claws fastened on a limb, and then strain to clamber up, you can
imagine something of the efforts of Toby and Bandy-legs in particular,
as they did not seem to be quite as fortunate as the others.

But none of them dropped back into the river, and that was worth
noticing. The girls continued to utter various exclamations of alarm
and excitement as they watched their supposed-to-be rescuers trying to
join them on the roof. Bessie even clapped her hands when Bandy-legs
after a series of contortions that would have done credit to a
professional athlete, managed to crawl over the edge, assisted by a
hand given him, not from Max, nor yet Steve, but the despised Shack
Beggs, who seemed to have had no difficulty whatever in making the
landing, for he was a muscular fellow, and as wiry as a cat.

So they climbed up the slope of the submerged farm house, and joined
those who were already perched along the ridgepole, like so many birds
awaiting the time for flight.

Bandy-legs watched the timbers bumping ag