“I was going to say I guessed nothing would happen,” went on C. C., “but I reckon I was a bit mistaken.”
“If it’s nothing worse than that we won’t kick,” murmured Blake. “Still you never can tell. I’ll come up there, Joe, and help you keep a lookout for big bits of wreckage.”
“It would be a good idea to have two at the wheel,” said Mr. Ringold. “We’ll do that after this, and we won’t try to do any night travel—we’ll just tie up at dark, wherever we can.”
“There must be a worse flood up above, than there was at first, to bring all this stuff down,” observed Joe, when he and Blake were on duty. “Whole villages must have been swept away, to judge by the pieces of houses I’ve seen.”
“Yes, and farm-places, too,” added Blake, as he pointed to a part of a wrecked barn swirling around in the water.
A little later they passed a village, partly submerged, and as they swung in close to it Mr. Ringold shouted questions as to the possible whereabouts of his lost players. No one, however, knew anything about them. They seemed to have disappeared.
Whenever Blake and Joe saw interesting sights they used the moving picture cameras to advantage. But much of the desolate scenery along the flooded river was of the same character, and they wanted to save their films for more dramatic situations.
Though the river was higher, the rain, which had ceased that morning, did not commence again, and the skies seemed much brighter.
“I don’t know much about the weather conditions out here,” said Mr. Ringold, “but it looks to me as though it were going to clear.”
“I hope so,” murmured Mr. Piper. “It feels as if I’d never get dried out.”