Adventures of Pudge

The Raft

Pudge and Dan, after hours of hard work, had finally finished building their raft and had pushed, pulled and dragged it all

the way to Miller’s Pond, about a mile from Dan’s house.

It was a warm, sunshiny summer day so they slipped quickly into their swim trunks. Before launching the raft Pudge

picked up a flat stone and spit on it. He tossed it into the air and asked Dan to call “Wet” or “Dry.” Whoever won the toss

would be captain and be first to climb aboard.

Pudge Hammond, known to his teachers only as Paul Hammond, was a 12 year old, active, somewhat mischievous boy

who lived in the 1930’s in Massachusetts. Dan Williams was Pudge’s best friend. He and Pudge had shared many

escapades together, some of which had gotten them into trouble.

Dan yelled “Wet” and when that side landed up he walked into the water pulling the raft with him. To his dismay, when he

clambered aboard the raft quickly sank below the surface.

“I thought wood was supposed to float,” he shouted as he came up blubbering.

They had used all the old boards and spars they could find, including a few 2 x 6 inch joists that had come from Dan’s

barn. All to no avail, it seemed; the raft just would not float. Pudge tried climbing up on the end opposite from where Dan had

tried only to have the same thing happen. The end of the raft sank about two feet below the surface.

“What are we going to do now, Mr. Smarty Pants?” Dan questioned. “You told me you knew how to build a raft and we’d

be able to float it down Miller’s Creek the same way Huck Finn floated the Mississippi. The only way that raft will float is if we

swim under it and hold it up.”

:”We need something to make it float, so quit your bellyaching and do some thinking for a change.”

They both sat and thought about it. Several times Pudge started to say something but each time he stopped and

muttered, “That wouldn’t work.”

Finally Dan said, “Stop your mumbling and tell me what won’t work.”

“If it won’t work, why discuss it?”

They sat for another few minutes before Dan raised up and said, “I think I got it.”

“What?” prodded Pudge.

“Mr. Reimer has all those old milk cans in his barn that he doesn’t use any more. Maybe he’ll give them to us.”

“Old man Reimer? Never!” Pudge replied, with an exasperated look on his face.

“I bet he will if my dad asks him.”

“You’re not going to tell your dad about the raft are you? He’ll know we’re crazy then.”

“How else are we going to get the raft to float?” Dan countered.

With a great deal of effort they pulled the now waterlogged raft out of the water and hid it in a copse of trees, then walked

dejectedly to Dan’s house.

Mr. Williams proved to be a better listener than Pudge had given him credit for. “I knew you were building a raft, I didn’t

know what you planned to do with it,” he replied when Dan described the problem.

“Your problem is more complicated than you realize. Supposing Mr. Reimer is willing to give you those milk cans, and I

don’t know if he will. How are you going to attach them to the raft so they won’t break loose the first rock you hit? Rope won’t

work, it will fray and rot and probably stretch as soon as it gets wet.

“What you need is the kind of straps that hold bales of hay together. Better yet, an old fire hose. Now that’s something

that won’t rot. Let me check with George Kearney at the fire station, perhaps they’ve disposed of some recently.”

The boys were in luck, the fire department had replaced several fifty foot sections of hose only the week before and had

not yet taken the old hose to the dump.

They were also lucky with the milk cans. Mr. Reimer had been planning to take them to the dump and was happy to be

rid of them, as long as they took all sixteen of them. Mr. Williams agreed they wouldn’t need that many but he offered to get

rid of those they didn’t use.

“You’ll still need more boards to secure the hose ends to the raft,” Mr. Williams told them. “Are there any left in the barn,

or did you use all that were there?”

A thorough search of Dan’s barn failed to turn up any additional boards but one of Dan’s neighbors had a few odds ad

ends he had no use for.

With Mr. Williams help, and the use of his pickup truck, all the milk cans and boards and hoses together with a hammer

and a bucket of nails were transported to Miller’s Pond. Mr. Williams made a few suggestions about how to secure the cans

in place then left it to the boys to complete the job. By the time they were finished it was late afternoon.

“I guess we’ll have to wait until tomorrow to launch it,” said Pudge. “Let’s hide it in the trees again.”

Much to their chagrin the addition of the milk cans had made it so heavy they were not able to carry it.

“What are we going to do now?” asked Pudge.

“If we can’t carry it nobody else can,” Dan replied. “Let’s just leave it here and hope for the best.”

“Okay.”

In the morning they both breathed a sigh of relief when, as they approached the raft, it appeared to be where they had left

it. As they drew closer they began to see signs that visitors had been there during the night. Broken beer bottles and other

trash was scattered all around the raft.

It appeared as if the raft had come through unscathed until they examined it under- neath. All the lids had been removed

from the milk cans and were nowhere I sight.

“I’m glad we looked before we shoved that thing into the water,” Pudge exclaimed. “If we hadn’t discovered the caps

were gone it would have sunk and we’d never be able to raise it. Who would do a thing like that?”

“Whoever, they’re probably bigger than we are, and drunk,” Dan replied.

“Maybe they threw them in the pond,” said Pudge. “That’s what I would have done, if I was mean enough to pull a trick

like that in the first place.”

“You are,” Dan retorted. “Remember Mr. Keeler’s outhouse that you tipped over last Halloween.”

“I guess you’re right. Let’s go look in the pond, see if we can find them. Tonight when we go home we’ll take the lids with

us.”

It took the boys two hours of constant submerging in the pond before they found 7 of the 8 caps. Then, so they would still

have 8 cans to support the raft, Dan ran back to his house and retrieved a cap from one of the unused milk cans. Fortunately,

his dad had not yet taken them to the dump.

Next came the problem of getting the raft into the water. It was too heavy for the boys to lift and, as they soon found out,

dragging it would undo all the work they had done to secure the milk cans to the raft.

Another quiet thinking session followed, with Pudge mumbling to himself again. About ten minutes passed before Dan,

without saying a word, walked to the edge of the trees and picked up a six foot log he had remembered seeing there. He

carried it to the raft and then spoke to Pudge.

“Are you going to help me or just sit there moping?”

Pudge, awakened from his reverie, looked at Dan and mumbled, “What?”

“Come help me lift the raft and roll this log under it.”

“How’s that going to help?”

“We can use the log as wheels and roll the raft forward into the pond. Each time the raft rolls off we’ll pick up the log and

push it under the front of the raft again.”

“Brilliant, how did you think of that?”

“I don’t know; I think I saw my dad do something like that one time.”

Pudge looked the situation over then said, “Wouldn’t two logs be better, one in front and one in back?”

“You’re right. Let’s go find another log.”

It took another half hour of searching before they found another suitable log hidden under decaying roots and branches.

When thet picked it up ants crawled out from every crevice.

“Let’s teach it to swim before we use it,” said Pudge. “We don’t want ants all over our raft.”

They rolled the log to the pond by pushing it with their shoes, stomping their feet every few steps to shake off any ants

they might have picked up. When they were satisfied the ants were gone they carried it back to the raft and slid it under the

end furthest from the water.

Except for the heavy lifting to get the logs under the raft, rolling the raft to the pond was the easiest task of any they had

encountered since they first began working on the raft.

As they reached the water with the raft an old car drove into the open field next to their launching area. Several teenage

boys got out, beer bottles in hand, and began taunting Pudge and Dan about the raft.

“Who designed that monstrosity?” one of them yelled, then threw his beer bottle at them. The bottle landed about 6 feet

away and broke into pieces, but not before Pudge noticed it was the same brand he and Dan had found near the raft that

morning. Pudge had no doubt this was the same gang that had vandalized the raft.

Deciding it would not be wise to respond to their taunts Pudge and Dan quickly pushed off from shore. The older boys

ran to the water’s edge and threw rocks at them. Fortunately, all of them missed their mark.

When the raft was too far from shore to be a target their tormenters went back to their car and raced away, spinning their

wheels as they did.

“Whew!” said Pudge, “I hope that’s the last we see of them.”

Using makeshift paddles made from boards they propelled the raft out into Miller’s Pond and across to its outlet. The

raft, although a little tippy, maintained a fairly even keel.

From then on they drifted down the slow-moving stream to a bridge crossing two miles downstream, arriving about two in

the afternoon. Here they were met by Mr. Williams, who helped them pull the raft onto the bank where all three ate a late

picnic lunch.

“How did it go, boys?” Mr. Williams asked. “No more problems?”

“Our visitors came back and threw beer bottles and rocks at us,” Dan replied. “Luckily for us, they missed.” He then

described the car to his dad.

“I know who they are,” Mr. Williams said. “I’ll stop by and talk to their parents on my way home. I’m assuming you two

want to continue on down to the next bridge before you call it a day.”

“Yeah,” they both replied.

“Okay then, I’ll pick you up about 4.”

At 4, when Mr. Williams arrived at the second bridge, the boys were nowhere in sight. He sat and waited, assuming they

would be there soon. At 5 o’clock, when there was still no sign of them, he became concerned. Thoughts of them running

into some kind of trouble ran through his mind. He didn’t think the young beer drinkers would have caused more trouble; he

had talked to one of their fathers and was told the problem would be taken care of.

A half hour later two weary, mud-covered boys emerged from the trees a short distance up the stream. Dan appeared to

be limping; both boys were red-faced.

“What happened?”

Dan replied, “We didn’t know there was one short stretch of fast water about a mile below the first bridge. It was also

shallow and rocky. The raft hit one of the rocks real hard and some of the milk cans got torn off. We were both knocked into

the water and I landed on a rock.

“The raft was stuck solid so we left it there. All that work and we got one short, bumpy ride out of it.”

“Let me look at your ankle.” Mr. Williams had Dan pull his pants leg up and remove his shoe. There was a large, red

lump on his ankle but as he could move it without too much pain Mr. Williams was certain it wasn’t broken.

“How about you, Pudge? Are you okay?”

“I think so; I’m wet and stinking but no bruises as far as I know.”

“Okay, let’s get you two home and cleaned up.”

For the next two weeks or so Dan limped around, much less active than his usual self. Pudge meanwhile, two days after

their adventure, came down with the worst case of poison ivy he had ever had.

The raft remained stuck on the rocks in Miller Creek.