This little incident served to somewhat enliven a day that had begun gloomily enough, and which seemed as though it would continue so, for the rain showed no signs of stopping.
“It’s lucky we brought along rubber boots and our rain-coats,” remarked Blake, as he and Joe were gathering their baggage and cameras together, preparatory to leaving the train, which would soon arrive in Hannibal.
“Yes, we’ll need ’em all right,” agreed his chum. “And say, we’re going to have trouble getting pictures if this downpour keeps up. We’ll get nothing but blurs on the films.”
“Oh, it’s bound to let up some time,” spoke Blake, hopefully.
The train had been proceeding slowly for some time now. The tracks ran along the river, occasional glimpses of which could be had.
“Look at that!” suddenly cried Joe, as the train rounded a curve, giving the best view yet had, of the flooded Mississippi. “Say, that’s some water, all right!”
“I should say yes!” exclaimed Blake.
The boys looked out on a big stretch of muddy water, in which numerous trees, and other debris, could be seen floating. The current seemed sluggish enough, though doubtless it moved with considerable power. Now and then small buildings could be noted in the yellow water, having been carried down from some farms further up stream.
“There goes a house!” exclaimed Mr. Ringold, who was at the adjoining window. “Say boys, this surely is serious!”
The house, a small one, was turning slowly about in the current.