OUT IN THE STORM
“This is getting to be something fierce!”
It was Dave who uttered the words, about five o’clock in the afternoon. He was looking out of the door of the cabin, and beside him stood Jerry Blutt.
The storm had kept up without intermission, the rain coming down in a perfect torrent, and the wind blowing in fitful gusts from the east. It was raw and depressing, and our hero could not help but shiver as he looked out on the turbulent waters of the river.
“It’s a pity them fellers ain’t got back,” said the camp-worker, with a slow shake of his head. “It ain’t nice to be out in sech a downpour as this, an’ with sech a wind! Might a tree blow down on ’em!” And he shook his head again.
Dave was even more distressed than the man. He could not get that dam out of his mind. Such a heavy fall of rain would certainly cause a great flow of water, and if the structure was weak, most anything bad was liable to happen. 231
“As soon as the boys get back I’ll urge them to leave here,” he told himself. “If that dam breaks we want to be on high ground, where the flood can’t reach us.”
“’Pears to me like the river was gittin’ putty high,” remarked Jerry Blutt, a little later, as he watched the water in the cove closely.
“Well, it would rise some with all this rain coming down,” returned Dave.
“So it might,—but I don’t know. I wish this camp was on the shore, instid o’ this island.”