“And how do you suppose the bridges are?” asked Helen.
“There! I reckon that’s why those folks from the other shore didn’t get here,” Nettie said. “I shouldn’t wonder if the planks of the old bridge had floated away.”
“Whoo!” Helen cried. “How are we going to get home?”
“By boat, maybe,” laughed Ruth. “Don’t worry. To-morrow is another day.”
And just as she said this the hotel was jarred suddenly, throughout its every beam and girder! The fiddles had just started again. They stopped. For a moment not a sound broke the startled silence in the ballroom.
Then the building shook again. There was an unmistakable thumping at the up-river end of the building. The thumping was repeated.
“Something’s broken loose!” exclaimed Helen.
“Let’s see what it means!” exclaimed Ruth, and she darted out of the long window.
Her chum and Nettie followed her. But when they found themselves splashing through water which had risen over the porch flooring, almost ankle deep, Nettie squealed and ran back. Helen followed Ruth to the upper end of the porch. The oil lamps burning there revealed a sight that both amazed and terrified the girls from the North.
The river had risen over its banks. It surged about the front of the hotel, but had not surrounded it, for the land at the back was higher.