"How was that?" the Weather Man asked sharply.
"It wasn't anybody's fault, Mr. Levin," replied Anton, who had heard the last two sentences as he came up, "Father thought I'd gone with Uncle Jack, and Uncle Jack thought I'd gone with Father."
"You're not hurt?"
"No, sir," the crippled lad answered, "not a bit. Ross is, though. He cut his arm diving through the window."
The Forecaster turned swiftly to the older boy and began examining the injury.
"Is the house still standing?" he asked.
"No, sir," the boy answered, "it's all in bits down by Jackson's Gully."
The weather expert nodded. He knew the lay of the land and had expected the water from the flooded hollow to pour down towards the entrance to the gully.
"How did you get out, then?" he asked.
Anton burst into a glowing account of his rescue in the little boat which the boys had made for their pirate adventures of two years before. Even the excitement of the story, however, was not strong enough to keep his overtaxed frame from showing signs of a breakdown and the Weather Man cut the story short.