“Back-water!” was the Shark’s verdict.
“Back-water?” Paul repeated doubtfully.
“From the river. It’s over its bank at some low spot, and the water has spread out. It fills up the low places, of course, and this house seems to stand on a little rise. Very likely we’re surrounded.”
“Cut off, you mean?”
“Not if we want to wade out.”
“Oh! Wade?” Varley did not look happy at the prospect.
The Shark studied the scene—so far as it could be made out in the dim light.
“Umph! Must be getting late,” he remarked coolly. “Don’t know that a wading job would be any wetter than a walk. Still, would either pay? We’re all right here. There’s more wood for the fire to be had down cellar.... Um, u-m-m! Maybe it’d be wisest to let well enough alone.”
“And stay here?”
“Sure! For a while, anyway, till the rain lessens, and that pond has a chance to drain off.”