A snag is a dead tree; and, when the river is low, it sometimes scrapes the bottom of the boat, and makes holes in it.
After supper she undressed Philly and put him in his little berth; for they were not likely to reach Shawneetown, at this rate, before morning.
"They are all longing to see us," thought Mrs. Gray, kissing her sleeping baby. Mrs. Hyde was her own mother, and they had not met for two years. "O, yes, Philly, your grandma has a nice supper ready, and your Aunt Floy has been at the window all the afternoon. How slowly we do go. Hush, Philly, don't cry,—
'The owl and the pussy cat went to sea,
In a beautiful pea-green boat.'"
Philly dropped off to sleep at last. His mother put him in the upper berth, and lay down herself on the lower berth, without undressing. She was quiet and happy, listening to the baby's breathing, and thinking of the griddle-cakes and honey grandma would give her for breakfast, when suddenly she was roused by frightful screams.
The boat was leaking! A great snag, which stood up in the river like a horned beast, had seized it and torn holes in its sides. It was of no use trying to stop the leak; the boat was sinking fast; all that could be done was to get out the people.
The captain and his men worked terribly, taking them off into life-boats; but there was such a hurry and such a fright that it was not possible to save everybody. Some of the passengers went down. Among them were some bewildered little children, who did not know what had happened till they woke in heaven, and the angels told them the story.
Mrs. Gray was one of the people saved; but where was her precious baby? The men said they did not know, he was nowhere to be seen, and even his little bed had been washed away!
"Go without Philly? Go without my baby? I can't do it, I can't do it," cried the poor mother.
But two of the good men seized her and dragged her into the life-boat. They would save her in spite of herself.