Little objected that it was more than flesh and blood could bear.
“Well, then,” said Ransome, “promise me just one thing: that, if you speak to her, it shall be in Hillsborough, and not down here.”
Little saw the wisdom of this, and consented, but said he was resolved to catch her at his own window the next time she came.
He was about to give his reasons, but they were interrupted by a man and horse clattering up to the door.
“That will be for me,” said Ransome. “I thought I should not get leave to drink my tea in peace.”
He was right; a mounted policeman brought him a note from the mayor, telling him word had come into the town that there was something wrong with Ousely dam. He was to take the mayor's horse, and ride up at once to the reservoir, and, if there was any danger, to warn the valley.
“This looks serious,” said Ransome. “I must wish you good-by.”
“Take a piece of advice with you. I hear that dam is too full; if so, don't listen to advice from anybody, but open the sluices of the waste-pipes, and relieve the pressure; but if you find a flaw in the embankment, don't trifle, blow up the waste-wear at once with gunpowder. I wish I had a horse, I'd go with you. By the way, if there is the least danger of that dam bursting, of course you will give me warning in time, and I'll get her out of the house at once.”
“What, do you think the water would get as far as this, to do any harm? It is six miles.”
“It might. Look at the form of the ground; it is a regular trough from that dam to Hillsborough. My opinion is, it would sweep everything before it, and flood Hillsborough itself—the lower town. I shall not go to bed, old fellow, till you come back and tell me it is all right.”