But it was a vain hope, there being no reply to the message of inquiry.
“The river is slowly rising,” remarked Mr. Piper, with something of a return of his former gloomy manner. “It’s going up about an inch and a half an hour. The townspeople are afraid it will break the levee, which is only a temporary one.”
“I wouldn’t want to live out in this country,” commented Blake. “This flood is likely to occur every year.”
“Oh, I guess they’re used to it, somewhat,” spoke Mr. Ringold. “But this is the worst they ever had. I’m really alarmed for our friends.”
“I’ve been alarmed all along,” went on C. C. “That is, of course there may be a chance for them,” he said, quickly, for he had made up his mind, at least while on this voyage, to try to look on the bright side of things.
“I sincerely hope there will be a chance,” murmured Mr. Ringold. “I would feel very badly, indeed, if I thought they were lost while making pictures for me.”
For some time that evening the rescuers sat about in the small cabin, talking over the situation. For some reason, though no one could account for it, there was a feeling of gloom in the hearts of all. Perhaps the fact that no word had come from New York induced it. But, certain it is, that no one felt very cheerful.
They were moored near shore, and just above where the temporary levee, to protect the village, began. Below, above, and in front of them, swirled the dreary waste of waters. The Mississippi had spread itself out to more than twice its usual width, and had inundated much valuable land. It had washed away many houses and farm buildings, and many towns and cities were partly under the flood.
And there was no certainty that the storm was over. True, the skies brightened now and then, but, as night fell, the heavens were overcast once more, and the wind, shifting, seemed to promise more downpours.
“I guess I’ll put double water-proof wrappings on the films, to-night,” said Joe, just before he prepared for bed. “I certainly wouldn’t want anything to happen to them now.”