I thought we'd better go ashore you'd kick like a steer."

"Oh! well, you see there doesn't seem to be any very great danger as
long as a big tree ain't swooping down to strike the bridge a crack;
and besides, what if another baby happened to come sailing along on a
raft, what'd we think of ourselves if we'd gone up on the bank, and
couldn't even make a break to save it?"

Steve argued fairly well, and Max did not attempt to press the matter.
To tell the truth he was tempted to linger to the very last in the hope
of being instrumental in doing more good. If one child had been sent
adrift in the flood, perhaps there might be others also in need of
succor. And so Max, usually so cautious, allowed himself to be tempted
to linger even when his better judgment warned him of the terrible
risks they ran.

"Some of that crowd think we're sillies for staying out here, don't
they, Steve?" Bandy-legs asked, after a little time had elapsed,
without their sighting any more precious cargoes coming down on the
flood.

"Yes, I heard a lot of 'em say things that way, because they've got a
notion in their heads the bridge is agoin' out any old minute. But
there's another lot that don't believe shucks. I heard one boy say
there wasn't a bit of danger, and that we got all the credit of being
mighty reckless and brave without taking any big risk."

"Bet you I can give a guess who that was," ventured Bandy-legs,
instantly.

"Let's hear, then," Steve told him.

"It sounds like that braggin' Shack Beggs," was the guess Bandy-legs
hazarded.

"Go up head, old scout," chuckled Steve; "because you hit it the first
shot. Yes, that's who it was, Shack Beggs, and both the other bullies
were along with him, watching everything we did out here, and looking
like they'd be mighty well pleased if the old bridge did break loose
and carry us all down river, hanging on like a parcel of half drowned
rats."

"I wouldn't put it past them to help things along, if only they knew
how they could start the bridge loose," Bandy-legs affirmed,
positively, which showed what sort of an opinion he had for the trio of
tough boys whom they had chased off, at the time they were robbing poor
old Mr. McGirt, who kept the little candy shop that had been invaded by
the rising waters.

"L-l-lucky for us they d-d-don't know h-h-how," said Toby, vigorously.

"It seems that when you get to talking about any one they're almost
sure to appear," Max told them; "an