It was a strange, weird sight—the sullen, roaring stream; but yesterday a silvery chain, scarce linking the shallow pools where pebbles and shells had shown in the clear, quiet depths—now a mad, dark river, boiling and swirling along in the red glare of the light.
When they had returned to the dwelling and reported the situation, the colonel looked very grave, and they began to canvass the prospect of a retreat. There was Clifford's dwelling, they remembered, at the Old Corral, situated high and dry; but to reach it they would have to cross a stream that was a foaming torrent, and the wild, swift river on the south completely cut them off from retreat in that direction; while away to the north stretched the limitless prairie, with not a habitation for more than a score of miles to shelter them from the cold and driving rain.
Chapter IX.
But when they thought of the wide valley and the vast quantity of water necessary to raise one foot after the river left its banks, they dismissed the thought of danger, and retired to rest.
The rain now poured down with greater fury than ever; the wind lashed the roof with the limbs of the old elm that drooped over the chimneys and gables of the dwelling; and the groaning and creaking added a gruesome feeling to the drowsiness which the plashing rain-drops caused to steal over the inmates of that danger-threatened household.
"It makes me think of spectres and shrieking ghosts," said Robbie, as he drew the cover up closer, and cuddled down by Clifford.
"Yes; it recalls the lines of 'Tam O'Shanter,'" replied his older brother, repeating a verse from that masterpiece of Burns:—
"The wind blew as 'twad blawn its last;
The rattling showers rose on the blast;
The speedy gleams the darkness swallowed;
Loud, deep, and lang the thunder bellowed.
That night a child might understand
The devil had business on his hand."
"If the Old Gent ventures from his fireside to-night, he'll get his tail wet," said Rob; then rolling over, the lad was soon in the "land of Nod."