“We’re sittin’ on a stick o’ dynamite here,” the old man agreed. “I’m worried about Mrs. Lear. Me and the wife want her to move up here on the hill where she’d be safe, but not that ole gal. She’s as stubborn as a mule.”
“And what of the Burmasters?”
“I ain’t worryin’ none about them. They kin look after themselves. They’re so cock sure there ain’t no danger.”
“Then you feel the situation really is serious?”
Old Silas spat into the grass. “When that dam lets go,” he said, “there ain’t goin’ to be no written notice sent ahead. The Burmaster place will be taken, and then Mrs. Lear’s. After that the water’ll sweep down on Delta faster’n an express train. From there it’ll spread out over the whole valley.”
“But why don’t people move to safety?”
“Down at Delta plenty of ’em are pullin’ up stakes,” Old Silas admitted. “The Burmasters are sittin’ tight though and so is Mrs. Lear.”
“We were planning on staying with her tonight,” Louise contributed uneasily.
“Reckon you’ll be safe enough,” Old Silas assured her. “Water level ain’t been risin’ none in the last ten hours. But if we have another rain above us—look out.”
After chatting a bit longer, Penny broached the matter of the spinning wheel. To her delight, Mr. Malcom not only offered to sell it for a small sum, but he volunteered to haul it to the railroad station for shipment.