“The river is risin’ rapidly.”
“What of that?”
“In an hour more this ’ere island will be overflown!”
“My God, Tumult! is it possible?”
“Ya-as. Thar’s never been sich a rain in these parts sense the rainy season seven years ago. A half a day’s rainin’ raised the river then till the Two Islands were completely kivered, sumthin’ that has never been done sense.”
“What are we to do, if the island is overflown?” asked Town.
“That’s easier axed than answered, lad. The wind is tossin’ the seethin’ waters up into little mountains—ah! hear ’em dash upon the island! We could never stick to a raft—the waves ’d wash us away like lumps o’ dirt.”
“God in heaven, are we to perish thus?” cried Town., gazing out upon the roaring river.
“Never say die, lad,” returned the scout, “there’s hope as long as thar’s life. We may escape yit.”
“How?”