Jeffreys had brought the carriage to a full stop on the bank overlooking the stream and the warehouse. The water surged almost level with the shipping platform. There had been a reason for Mr. Jimson’s shifting all the cotton in storage to the upper end of the huge building. He had foreseen this rain and feared a flood.
Suddenly, just as Jeffreys was about to drive on, Helen uttered a scream, and pointed to a drifting hencoop.
“See! See that poor thing!” she cried.
“What’s the matter now, honey?” asked Nettie. “I don’t see anything.”
“On the roof of that coop,” Ruth said quickly espying what her chum saw. “The poor cat!”
“Where is there a cat?” cried Nettie, anxiously. She was a little near-sighted and could not focus her gaze upon the small object on the raft as quickly as the chums from the North.
“Dear me, Nettie!” cried Helen, in exasperation. “If you met a bear he’d have to bite you before you’d know he was there.”
“Never mind,” drawled the Southern girl, “I am not being chased and knocked down by deer——Oh! I see the poor kitty.”
“I should hope you did!” Helen said. “And it’s going to be drowned!”
“No, no,” Ruth said. “I hope not. Can’t it be brought ashore? See! that coop is swinging into an eddy.”