All became silent, but their eyes were riveted upon the water as it closed in on them.
Now there was but perhaps twenty yards of dry ground, then fifteen, and still the water rose. The rise continued until all stood in water, and then it rose no higher.
“Thank God!” said Henderson, calmly, looking at his wife. “We are saved!”
“Thank God, indeed,” said Shirley softly, and she turned and stroked the horse, who thrust his cold muzzle into her hand. “But for you,” she added, patting him gently, “hundreds would have been drowned!”
CHAPTER II.—A DARING ACT.
Night came on, and still the three—a man, a woman and a young girl—stood ankle deep in the cold water, which showed no sign of receding.
Mrs. Henderson was completely worn out. At Shirley’s suggestion, Henderson placed her upon the back of the horse, where she was at least dry.
“There is no telling how long we may have to remain here,” said Henderson. “The water may not go down before morning.”
“But,” said Shirley, “we cannot remain here that long. We must do something.”
“What?” asked Henderson briefly.