Jones's enraptured eyes lingered on the slim shape in mail; he hated to do it, but he brought a Navajo blanket and draped in it the most distractingly pretty figure his rather nearsighted eyes had ever encountered.
"There," explained Ellis, courteously, "is the shanty. I've hung a blanket over it. Jones and I will sleep here by the fire."
"Sleep!" faltered Molly Sandys. "I think we ought to be starting——"
"The forests are flooded; we can't get you back to the Summer School to-night," said Ellis.
Professor Rawson shuddered. "Do you mean that we are cut off from civilization entirely?" she asked.
"Look!" replied Ellis.
The ridge on which the camp lay had become an island; below it roared a spreading flood under a column of mist and spray; all about them the water soused and washed through the forest; below them from the forks came the pounding thunder of the falls.
"There's nothing to be alarmed at, of course," he said, looking at Molly Sandys.
The grey eyes looked back into his. "Isn't there, really?" she asked.