Helen in the Editor's Chair Page 4

  CHAPTER IV _Through the Storm_

  Tom's cry brought the others from the dinner table to the screened-inporch which overlooked the lake. He was right. The storm was roaring downout of the hills in the west in all its fury.

  The black clouds which had been rolling along the horizon when Tom andHelen had come home were massed in a solid, angry front. Driven by awhistling wind, they were sweeping down on the lake. An ominous fringe ofyellow wind clouds dashed on ahead and as they reached the porch they sawthe waters of Lake Dubar whiten before the fury of the wind.

  "Looks like a twister," shouted Tom.

  His mother's face whitened and she anxiously scanned the sky.

  Doctor Stevens ran across from his home.

  "Better close all your windows and secure the doors," he warned. "We'regoing to get a lot of wind before the rain comes."

  "Tom is afraid of a tornado," said Mrs. Blair.

  "The weather is about right," admitted the doctor. "But we won't worryuntil we see the clouds start to swirl. Then we'll run for the stormcellar under my house."

  Helen and Margaret hurried to help Mrs. Blair close the upstairs windowswhile Tom went around to make sure that the screens were secure. Hebolted all doors except the one to the porch and when he returned to jointhe others, the tempo of the wind was increasing rapidly.

  The wind suddenly dropped to a whisper and Doctor Stevens watched therolling clouds with renewed anxiety. The waters of the lake were calmerand the dust clouds which the wind had driven over the water clearedpartially.

  "Look!" cried Helen. "There's a motorboat trying to reach one of theboathouses here!"

  Through the haze of dust which still hung over the lake they coulddiscern the outline of a boat, laboring to reach the safety of the Rolfeend of the lake.

  "It's Jim Preston," said Doctor Stevens. "He goes down to the summerresorts at the far end of the lake every Sunday morning with the mail andpapers."

  "His boat's got a lot of water in it from the way it is riding," addedTom. "If the storm hits him he'll never make it."

  "Jim should have known better than to have taken a chance when he couldsee this mess of weather brewing," snorted the doctor.

  "His wife's sick," put in Mrs. Blair, "and Jim's probably taken an extrarisk to get home as soon as possible."

  "I know," said Doctor Stevens.

  "He's bailing by hand," cried Tom. "That means something has gone wrongwith the water pump on the engine."

  "Can you see what boat he has?" asked Doctor Stevens.

  "It looks like the Flyer," said Helen, who knew the lines of everymotorboat on the lake.

  "That's the poorest wet weather boat Jim has," said Doctor Stevens."Every white cap slops over the side. She's fast but a death trap in astorm. Either the Liberty or the Argosy would eat up weather like this."

  "Jim's been overhauling the engines in his other boats," said Tom, "andthe Flyer is the only thing he has been using this spring."

  "Instead of standing here talking, let's get down to the shore," saidHelen. "Maybe we can get someone to go out and help him."

  Without waiting for the others to reply, Helen started running toward thelake. She heard a cry behind her and turned to see Tom pointing towardthe hills in the west.

  The wind was whistling again and when she turned to look in the directionher brother pointed, she stopped suddenly. The black storm clouds weremassing for the main attack and they were rolling together.

  In the seconds that Helen watched, she saw them swirl toward a commoncenter, heard the deafening rise of the wind and trembled as the clouds,now formed in a great funnel, started toward the lake.

  "Come back, Helen, come back!" Tom shouted.

  Forcing herself to overcome the storm terror which now gripped her, Helenlooked out over the boiling waters of the lake.

  The wind was whipping into a new frenzy and she could just barely see theFlyer above the white-capped waves. Jim Preston was making a brave effortto reach shore and Helen knew that the little group at her own home wereprobably the only ones in Rolfe who knew of the boatman's danger. Secondscounted and ignoring the warning cries from her brother, she hurried ontoward the lake.

  The noise of the oncoming tornado beat on her ears, but she dared notlook toward the west. If she did she knew she would turn and race for theshelter and security of Doctor Stevens' storm cellar.

  The Flyer was rolling dangerously as Jim Preston made for the shore andHelen doubted if the boatman would ever make it.

  On and on the sleek craft pushed its way, the waves breaking over itsslender, speedy nose and cascading back into the open cockpit in whichJim Preston was bailing furiously. The Flyer was nosing deeper into thewaves as it shipped more water. When the ignition wires got wet the motorwould stop and Preston's last chance would be gone.

  Helen felt someone grab her arms. It was Tom.

  "Come back!" he cried. "The tornado will be on us in another fiveminutes!"

  "We've got to help Mr. Preston," shouted Helen, and she refused to move.

  "All right, then I stay too," yelled Tom, who kept anxious eyes on theapproaching tornado.

  The Flyer was less than a hundred yards from shore but was settlingdeeper and deeper into the water.

  "It's almost shallow enough for him to wade ashore," cried Helen.

  "Wind would sweep him off his feet," replied Tom.

  The speedboat was making slow progress, barely staggering along in itsbattle against the wind and waves.

  "He's going to make it!" shouted Helen.

  "I hope so," said Tom, but his words were lost in the wind.

  Fifty yards more and the Flyer would nose into the sandy beach whichmarked the Rolfe end of the lake.

  "Come on, Flyer, come on!" cried Helen.

  "The engine's dying," said Tom. "Look, the nose is going under that bigwave."

  With the motor dead, the Flyer lost way and buried its nose under a giantwhite-cap.

  "He's jumping out of the boat," added Helen. "It's shallow enough so hecan wade in if he can keep his feet."

  Ignoring the increasing danger of the tornado, they ran across the sandybeach.

  "Join hands," cried Helen. "We can wade out and pull him the last fewfeet."

  Realizing that his sister would go on alone if he did not help her, Tomlocked his hands in hers and they plunged into the shallow water.

  Jim Preston, on the verge of exhaustion, staggered through the waves.

  The Flyer, caught between two large rollers, filled with water anddisappeared less than ten seconds after it had been abandoned.

  The boatman floundered toward them and Tom and Helen found themselveshard-pressed to keep their own feet, for a strong undertow threatened toupset them and sweep them out into the lake.

  Preston lunged toward them and they caught him as he fell.

  Tom turned momentarily to watch the approach of the tornado.

  "Hurry!" he cried. "We'll be able to reach Doctor Stevens' storm cellarif we run."

  "I can't run," gasped Preston. "You youngsters get me to shore. Then saveyourselves."

  "We'll do nothing of the kind," said Helen.

  With their encouragement, Preston made a new effort and they made theirescape from the dangerous waters of the lake.

  Alone, Helen or Tom could have raced up the hill to Doctor Stevens inless than a minute but with an almost helpless man to drag between them,they made slow progress.

  "We've got to hurry," warned Tom as the noise of the storm told of itsrapid approach.

  "Go on, go on! Leave me here!" urged Preston.

  But Helen and Tom were deaf to his pleas and they forced him to use thelast of his strength in a desperate race up the hill ahead of thetornado.

  Doctor Stevens met them half way up the hill and almost carried Prestonthe rest of the way.

  "Across the street and into my storm cellar," he told them.

  "Is the tornado going to hit the town?" asked H
elen as they hurriedacross the street.

  "Can't tell yet," replied Doctor Stevens.

  "There's a common belief that the hills and lake protect us so a tornadowill never strike here," said Tom.

  "We'll soon know about that," said the doctor grimly.

  They got the exhausted boatman to the entrance of the cellar, where Mrs.Blair was anxiously awaiting their return.

  "Are you all right, Helen?" she asked.

  "A little wet on my lower extremities," replied the young editor of the_Herald_. "I simply had to go, mother."

  "Of course you did," said Mrs. Blair. "It was dangerous but I'm proud ofyou Helen."

  Mrs. Stevens brought out blankets and wrapped them around Jim Preston'sshoulders while Margaret took candles down into the storm cellar.

  The noise of the storm had increased to such an intensity thatconversation was almost impossible.

  Doctor Stevens maintained his watchful vigil, noting every movement ofthe tornado.

  The sky was so dark that the daylight had faded into dusk although it wasonly a few minutes after three. The whole western sky was filled withcoal-black clouds and out of the center of this ominous mass rushed thelashing tongue which was destroying everything it touched.

  On and on came the storm, advancing with a deadly relentlessness. A farmhouse a little more than a mile away on one of the hills overlooking thelake exploded as though a charge of dynamite had been set off beneath it.

  "It's terrible, terrible," sobbed Margaret Stevens, who had come out ofthe cellar to watch the storm.

  "We're going to get hit," Tom warned them.

  "I've got to get home," said Jim Preston, struggling out of the blanketswhich Mrs. Stevens had wrapped around him. "My wife's all alone."

  "Stay here, Jim," commanded Doctor Stevens. "You couldn't get more thanthree or four blocks before the storm strikes and your place is clearacross town. Everybody into the cellar," he commanded.

  Mrs. Stevens and Helen's mother went first to light the candles. Theywere followed by Margaret and Helen, then Tom and Jim Preston and finallythe doctor, who remained in the doorway on guard.

  "What will this do to the _Herald_?" Helen whispered to Tom.

  Her brother nudged her hard.

  "Don't let Mother hear you," he replied. "There is nothing we can do nowexcept hope. The _Herald_ building may not be destroyed."

  Helen dropped to the floor and her head bowed in prayer. Their father'sillness had been a blow and to have the _Herald_ plant destroyed by atornado would be almost more than they could bear.

  The noise of the tornado was terrific and they felt the earth tremblingat the fury of the storm gods.

  Helen had seen pictures of towns razed by tornadoes but she had neverdreamed that she would be in one herself.

  Suddenly the roar of the storm lessened and Doctor Stevens cautiouslyopened the door of the storm cellar.

  "We're safe!" he cried.

  They trooped out of the cellar. The tornado had swung away from Rolfewithout striking the town itself and was lashing its way down the centerof Lake Dubar.

  "It will wear itself out before it reaches the end of the lake,"predicted Jim Preston.

  "I don't believe any houses in town were damaged," said Doctor Stevens."A hen house and garage or two may have been unroofed but that will beabout all."

  "How about the farmers back in the hills?" asked Helen.

  "They must have fared pretty badly if they were in the center of thestorm," said the doctor. "I'm going to get my car and start out that way.Someone may need medical attention."

  "Can I go with you?" asked Helen. "I want to get all the facts about thestorm for my story for the _Herald_."

  "Glad to have you," said the doctor.

  "Count me in," said Margaret Stevens. "I've joined Helen's staff as herfirst reporter," she told her father.

  "If you want to go down the lake in the morning and see what happened atthe far end I'll be glad to take you," suggested Jim Preston. "I'm mightygrateful for what you and Tom did for me and I'll have the Liberty readyto go by morning."

  "What about the Flyer?" asked Tom.

  "I'll have to fish her out of the lake sometime next week," grinned theboatman. "I'm lucky even to be here, but I am, thanks to you."

  Doctor Stevens backed his sedan out of the garage and Helen startedtoward the car.

  "You can't go looking like that," protested her mother. "Your shoes andhose are wet and dirty and your dress looks something like a mop."

  "Can't help the looks, mother," smiled Helen. "I'll have to go as I am.This is my first big news and the story comes first."