"Old Dick Evans died trying to save his fish nets. Got plumb exhausted. His heart give out."
"When we flew over, I saw how the waves had chawed big chunks out of the causeway, and six autos were left, half-buried in sand. Even one of the DUKWs was stuck."
"When we flew over, the sea had swallowed up the causeway. Why, Chincoteague is cut off from the main like a boat without an anchor."
"I heerd that a lady over to Chincoteague had a husband and two children that couldn't swim. She swum two blocks in that icy water for help. Nearly died afore one of them DUKWs fished her up and drug her, sobbin' and drippin', to the Fire House. Then they goes back for her husband and kids." The speaker paused. "But guess what?"
"What?" someone asked.
"Why, between whiles a whirlybird airlifted 'em off'n the roof and they thought she'd drownt and she thought they'd drownt. And later they all got together at the Fire House."
"See, children," Grandma whispered, "some of the news is right good."
A young reporter carrying his typewriter joined the gathering. "I heard," he said, "that a hundred and fifty wild ponies were washed right off Assateague."
"O-h!" The news was met by a shocked chorus.
"Before I write that for my paper, I'd like you folks to give me your comments." He took out a notebook and pencil.