Chapter Seventeen.
“Here, what’s the matter?” I cried; and at that moment Sarah came running out again, looking inquiringly from one to the other.
“What was that noise?” she said.
“De ribber—de ribber,” panted Hannibal. Then he tried to say more, but he was so excited that his command of English failed him, and he turned to Pomp, who had just come back from the hut, and said something to him volubly in his own tongue. Pomp’s mouth opened wide, and he stared wildly at his father. Then turning to me, he caught hold of my arm.
“Come, get up the tree, Mass’ George. Pull missie up the tree.”
“What for? What’s the matter?” I said, as the dull roaring seemed to be coming back.
“Ribber run all ober; water take away de boat, and all gone.”
“River running over? What do you mean—a flood?”