Unmindful of the falling rain, Noah stooped to pick up a bedraggled kitten from underfoot.
“It’s a very nice boat,” Penny remarked, dodging under the shelter of the roof. Louise huddled close beside her.
“A sturdy ark,” agreed Old Noah proudly. “Many, many months did I labor building it. The Lord said, ‘make thee an ark of gopher wood.’ But of gopher wood there was none to be had. Then the Lord came to me in a dream and said, ‘Noah, use anything you can find.’ So I gathered timbers from the beaches, and I wrecked an abandoned cottage I found in the woods. I felled trees. And I pitched the seams within and without as the Lord bade me.”
“What animals do you keep inside?” Penny inquired curiously.
“Well, mostly creatures that aren’t too exacting in their needs,” said Noah, perching the wet kitten on his shoulder. “The Lord sayeth two of every kind, male and female. But it wasn’t practical. Some of the animals were too big to keep aboard the ark.”
A disturbance from within the boat interrupted the old man’s explanation. “Excuse me, daughters, I’ve got to fasten Bessie in her stall,” he apologized. “If I keep her waitin’ she’s apt to kick the ark to pieces!”
Old Noah disappeared into the lower story of the boat. Peering in the open door, the girls saw row upon row of stalls and cages. There was a sty for the pigs, a pen for the goat, a little kennel for the dog, low roosts for the fowls. The walls of the room had been whitewashed and the floor was clean.
“What a life Old Noah must lead!” Louise whispered to Penny. “Why, it must be worse than being a zoo keeper!”
In a moment the old fellow reappeared. Beckoning to the girls, he led them up a little flight of stairs to the second floor of the ark.
“This is my bird room,” he said, opening a door.