“I can begin to see a shaking of the branches that stand up, as if they felt a new hand at the helm!” declared Sandy.
“Yes, yes, that is so!” cried Bob, almost as keenly aroused as the excitable Sandy.
“It moves, Bob, it moves! I can see it begin to swerve! Oh! if the cabin were only fifty yards further down-stream, I do believe it would escape!”
“And it may yet. Wait and see!” answered Bob, watching the course of the tree with a critical eye.
“It is swinging around, so that the branches begin to turn toward the cabin. If anything strikes, it will not be the heavy butt, but the lighter end. Perhaps our home may be able to stand out against that sort of a blow.”
“There! it’s coming now!” cried Bob.
The scraping of the branches, as the tree swung around, was plainly heard. Sandy gave a gasp. He imagined that he saw the log structure start after the floating tree; but in this his fears magnified things, for it did not happen.
Instead, the cabin remained just where it had always stood, while the floating derelict of the flood passed on to its destiny.
“Hurrah!” exclaimed Bob, waving his cap enthusiastically.