“That’s a fact, it does; and they came near being drowned in that same flood, too, didn’t they?” said Dick. “But let’s begin to get our packages ready, in case we have to climb this tree. It’s just as well to be prepared, even if we never have to carry out that plan.”
“But you really think we will have to, don’t you, Dick?” persisted the other.
“If the water gets high enough to cover our island, yes,” was the reply; “because there’s really no other way. But these summer floods come and go quickly. It isn’t like the early spring time, when the ground is frozen, and the downpour can find no way to soak into it, so that it all rushes off.”
Dick was a good fellow to have along on an occasion of this kind. He always managed to appear cheerful, no matter how seriously the conditions affected him; and besides this, he was so very fertile in resource. Seldom did there arise a sudden emergency but that Dick proved himself capable of suggesting an immediate remedy. In this particular he resembled his father, Bob Armstrong, who, in the old days on the Ohio, used to be looked up to by his younger brother, Sandy, on this account.
It was far from cheerful work, however, standing there keeping track of the gradual rise of the river. And it lacked the interest that they might have found in the task had they been at home, and only curious to know what height the water would reach before starting to as speedily decline.
Now they had everything at stake; and it meant great peril to them if the little island should be completely submerged.
Roger had constructed a contrivance whereby they were able to know just how fast the water rose. This was a stick which he had marked off in inches, and driven into the ground at the edge of the river. By consulting it every little while they were enabled to learn the truth, and it was a continued disappointment.
“It looks as if we’d have to climb, sooner or later, Dick,” declared Roger, when several hours had passed, and they had three times been forced to retreat before the advance of the flood, removing their “tally stick” on each occasion.
“I’m sorry to say it’s getting that way,” replied the other, shaking his head.
“But what about the horses?” demanded Roger.