THE FLOOD AND THE END.
It was well for all who were fond of sleighing, to make the best use of
their time. A great many people had had enough, and were even eager to
see the snow depart. There was a great deal of it to go, and the weather
took an unexpected part in the matter. The sun came out with a power
that had in it something peculiar, and made all human beings feel
drowsy, heavy, listless, and disposed to take boneset-tea. The older
they were, the more black and bitter was the boneset they called for;
and aunt Judith manufactured some uncommonly good root-beer to go with
it. So far as the young people were concerned, the root-beer went much
more rapidly than the boneset.
Then arrived two whole days of warm and heavy rain; and, when the sun
came out again, he had an altered landscape to look down upon. All the
hillsides were streaming with torrents of water, and every hollow was a
pond. The roads were channels of temporary rivulets, and the river in
the valley had swollen until its fetters were breaking. The ice in the
mill-pond cracked and lifted until the water broke out over the dam.
That relieved the pressure for a few hours, until the huge cakes of ice
got in a hurry, and began to climb upon each others' shoulders. They
rapidly built up a dam of their own, right on top of the old one, and
the water sent back up stream for more ice. As fast as the new supplies
came down, they were heaped up, right and left and centre; and no
engineer could have done the work better, so far as increasing the size
of the mill-pond was concerned. It grew tremendously, and the sun toiled
at the snow-banks on the hillsides, all along the banks of that river
away up into the mountains, to send down more snow-water for the big
spread in Benton Valley.
"Sarah," said Deacon Farnham at about the middle of the second forenoon,
"if this thing keeps on, it'll drown out the village."
"Has the water got there yet?" she asked. "Is it rising?"
"Rising! Guess it is. I'll hitch up the team after dinner, and we'll go
and take a look at it."
When Pen and Corry came home at noon, they reported that school was
dismissed for the day; and Pen explained it,--
"She said the Flood was coming again, but I don't believe it is."
"Not Noah's Flood," said her father; "but enough might come to carry
away the school-house. I can't say what they're going to do about it."
The story Vosh told at home brought Mrs. Stebbins over after dinner, and
there was a full sleigh-load driven down to see the sights.
Susie and Port were to have one more experience of winter life in the
country, and it was one they would not have missed for any thing. The
mill-pond was away below the village, and there was another up towards
Cobbleville that was said to be nearly as badly off. As the water had
risen, it had set back and back, until now the low-lying lands were a
great lake with houses and barns sticking up from it. Deacon Farnham
drove on down towards the village, and all the tongues in the sleigh
grew more and more silent. Aunt Judith had already told all there was to
tell about the great flood when she was a girl, and when they had to
live without flour or meal. The story sounded much more real now, for
the first man they met said to them,--
"If the ice goes on packing up there at the dam, the mill and all will
break away before midnight."
"Are they trying to do any thing to loosen the pack?" asked Vosh.
"They can't get at it to pick at it, and it's wuth any man's life to
try. The water's in the main street now."
"What if the upper dam should give way?" asked the deacon.
"Well, if the ice there and the dam should give way all at once, and
come down in a heap, there wouldn't be much left of Benton."
They drove on down the road to the right, towards what had been the
lower level of the coasting-hill, where the sleds darted out upon the
pond. They could see the whole thing now, and the long ridge of ice with
the flood surging and rising against it, and filling up every lower
place with fresh material. The water was still pouring over the pack at
the upper dam, the deacon said, or no more ice and snow would be coming
down.
"Mr. Farnham!" suddenly exclaimed Vosh Stebbins, "I wish I had money
enough to pay for a keg of blasting-powder."
"What for, Vosh?"
"Don't you see? You can get to the second floor of the mill, right
across those logs. If a keg of powder could be shoved out on the pack,
and left there with a slow-match burning, I could get back before it
went off."
"I'll pay for the powder," said the deacon as he turned his team towards
the village, and Mrs. Stebbins gasped,--
"O Vosh! Lavawjer!"
She sat still, and looked a little white for a moment, and then the
color came to her face, and there was a sort of flash in her eyes as she
said slowly and steadily,--
"Just you try it on. Your father would have done it any day. Levi
Stebbins was a soldier, and he never flinched any thing in all his
life."
"Joshaway," said aunt Judith with a bit of a tremor in her voice, "I
want to pay for that powder myself. He can buy two kegs if he needs
'em."
The water was nearly a foot deep in front of Rosenstein's store when the
sleigh came splashing along. The whole village was boiling with
excitement, in spite of the fact that the flood was all of ice-water.
"Powder? Going to blow up dot ice?" said Mr. Rosenstein doubtfully; but
he hurried to bring out a keg of it, and a long line of fuze.
"Now, Vosh. No time to lose. You mustn't run any needless risk, but I
believe you can do it. I'll go as far as into the mill with you."
"Joshua," said Mrs. Farnham, "will he need help? His weight's a good
deal lighter than yours."
"We'll see about it when we get there. That pack has got to be broken:
so has the one at the upper dam."
They were once more on the hill-road, and nearing the point of danger.
Great piles of saw-logs, ready for the saw-mill, had accumulated on the
slope between the mill and what was now the shore; and already quite a
number of adventurers had crossed upon them to the building itself, and
back again. Not a soul had cared to remain more than a minute, and none
had ventured beyond.
"Go, Joshua," said Mrs. Farnham. "He'll need advice, if he doesn't need
any thing else."
Corry took the reins, and his father and Vosh stepped out. There were
thirty or forty men and boys standing around and watching the flood, and
all were eager to know what was coming; but the answers given them had a
short, gruff sound, as if uttered by somebody too much in earnest to
talk.
"Right along, Vosh," said the deacon. "The logs are firm enough."
So they were, and it was easy to climb through an open window into the
second story of the mill. Through all the lower floor the water was
rushing and gurgling, and the building shook all over as if it were
chilly.
An opposite window was reached, and there before them was the ice-pack.
Only at one point, beyond the centre, was there any water going over it;
and it seemed only too strong and solid.
"As far out as you can, Vosh," said the deacon. "Put it into a hole of
some kind, if you can."
Without a word of comment or reply, the brave boy crept through the
window, and let himself down upon the ice, and the keg was handed him.
"Use the whole length of the fuze," said the deacon. "You'll have time
enough."
"Mr. Farnham," said Vosh, "you go back right away, now."
"I don't know but what it's my duty. Do yours quick, Vosh."
He was every way disposed to obey that suggestion. The roar of the
waters, the strange sensation of the presence of great peril, and even
the idea that so many people were looking at him, made the situation one
from which he was in a hurry to get away. Nearly in the middle of the
pack he came to a deep crevice between the heaps of glimmering ice, and
into it he lowered his little barrel of explosive meal. He had made it
all ready, fixing the end of the fuze in its proper place, and now he
led the line back over comparatively dry ice.
"Nothing to put it out," he muttered; "and they said it was water-proof,
anyhow."
A stream of people, on foot and in sleighs, had followed that
undertaking from the moment when the news of it began to buzz around the
village, and a full hundred had now gathered on the slope opposite the
mill. They saw Vosh Stebbins scratch a match on his coat-sleeve, and
stoop down; and then they saw him turn, and walk swiftly away towards
the mill.
"It's all right, deacon!" he shouted. "She's a-burning!"
"Come on, Vosh. Hurry up. I just couldn't go ashore till you got back."
Vosh replied with a ringing laugh that had a world of excitement in it.
He followed the deacon back through the mill, and across the perilous
bridge of floating logs; and there on the shore stood Susie Hudson, and
her aunts, and his mother, but Penelope was the only one who said any
thing.
"Vosh," she asked, "did you lose all your powder and your string?"
"Guess I have," replied he; and then it was Adonijah Bunce who
remarked,--
"Didn't quite do it, did ye?"
"Hold on a minute," said Mr. Farnham. "It was a long fuze."
It seemed as if everybody held their breaths till it must hurt them;
but, just when they could not do it any longer, a great sheet of smoke
and flame shot up from the middle of the ice-pack. It was followed by a
dull, heavy report, and by flying fragments of ice.
Had it accomplished any thing?--that was the question in all minds; but
it was only a moment before there was another crash, and another. The
barrier had been blown away to such a thinness that the pressure from
above was sufficient to break it through. The flood rushed forward into
the widening channel with a surge and a plunge, and away went the river
again, roaring down its half-deserted bed below. More of the cakes of
ice to the right and left, now no longer wedged and self-supporting,
were swiftly torn away, and the gap so opened could not be closed again.
"I just knew he'd do it," said Mrs. Stebbins proudly, as the round of
cheers died away after the explosion and crash. "His father would ha'
done it."
There were plenty to congratulate Vosh; but he and the rest got into the
sleigh again, and drove back towards the village. Even before they
reached it, the waters were manifestly receding a little, and, when they
again stopped in front of Mr. Rosenstein's store, it was pretty well
understood that the first peril was over.
"Now for the pack at the upper dam!" shouted the deacon. "It's safe to
make a hole in it, now our pack is broken.--I want to pay for that
powder, Mr. Rosenstein. I was in such a hurry, I forgot it."
"Dot's joost vot I did," replied the merchant. "You bays for no powder
for dot boy. He safe de village. I deals not in pork."
There was a cheer for Mr. Rosenstein; and a dozen men set off towards
the upper dam with more powder, and a new idea.
"We have done enough for one day," said Deacon Farnham after he had seen
that squad set out. "We can afford to go home.--Mrs. Stebbins, you and
Vosh can take dinner with us, and Susie and Port can read their
letters."
All were entirely willing, and the team headed for home as if they were
conscious of having done something for the public good. The village
post-office was kept in Mr. Rosenstein's store, and that was one reason
why the letters had been received in such an hour of excitement. They
were not read until after the arrival at the farmhouse, for every one in
that sleigh was looking back into the valley to see whether or not the
flood was visibly subsiding. Even after they reached the house, Vosh
said he felt as if he were about to hear the explosion at the upper dam.
He did not hear it; but the ice there was blown open, nevertheless, and
the river had a fair chance to carry all its surplus down stream, and
melt it up instead of making dams of it.
Porter Hudson was the first to tear open an envelope.
"Susie!" he shouted almost instantly, "mother's got home."
Her fingers were busy with her own letter for a moment, and then she
turned to Mrs. Farnham.
"Aunt Sarah!"
"O Susie! I know what you mean. They want you at home."
"Yes," said aunt Judith, "I suppose we've got to say good-by to 'em
pretty soon."
"And there's no winter at all in the city," said Port. "No snow to be
seen, and some of the buds are beginning to show."
The letters had a powerful effect upon all the gathering around that
dinner-table; and Pen thought she had settled the difficulty, or nearly
so, when she broke a long silence with,--
"They might just as well all come up here and live. There's room for 'em
all, and it's ever so much better than the city is."
There was no immediate haste called for, but winter was over. Word came
from the village in the morning, that the flood was going down fast, and
the mill was entirely safe, and that everybody was talking about the
feat performed by Vosh Stebbins. It looked as if Mr. Farnham's part of
it was a little neglected, and Pen remarked with some jealousy,--
"Father got the powder, and all Vosh did was to touch it off."
Everybody seemed to feel blue that evening, for some reason; and the
thaw carried away almost all the snow there was left, with hardly a
remark being made about it. The fire in the sitting-room burned low, and
no fresh logs were heaped upon it. Susie sat in front of it, and
remembered a summer day when she had seen nothing there but polished
andirons, and branches of fennel.
"Port," said Corry almost mournfully, "I do hope you've had a good time.
We all want you to come again."
"Good time! Tell you what, Corry, I won't come up here unless you'll
come and visit us in the city. I've been thinking over lots of things I
could show you and Pen. I've had the biggest kind of a time."
"You must come up some time in summer," said aunt Judith. "The country
is beautiful then. Better fishing, hunting--all sorts of fun."
"I guess there isn't any thing better than winter fun," said Susie
thoughtfully. "I do like the country at any time of the year."
Vosh Stebbins and his mother also sat in front of their sitting-room
fireplace, and were uncommonly still and sober.
"Mother," said he at last, "I've had the greatest winter I ever did
have. There's been any amount of fun in it, but seems to me there's been
a good deal more."
"Yes," said his mother, "they've been right good company, and I'm real
sorry to hev 'em go; but it's time they went, and her mother's health's
come back to her. She's one of the best of women, I haven't the least
doubt in the world. I never seen a girl I took to more'n I hev to Susie
Hudson, and I hope she and Port'll come up here again; and I've been
a-findin' out how much it'll cost to hev you go to college, and you've
got to jest study up and go."
"Mother!" That was all he could say; for his mind had been playing chess
with that problem since he did not know exactly when, and he had not
dared to speak of it.
One week later the Farnham and Stebbins farmhouses felt smaller and
lonelier, and Penelope teased for a pen and ink, remarking,--
"If I write to Susie right away, it may get there almost as soon as she
does, and she won't have to wait for it to come."
The rest of the family and their neighbors had their hands full of
spring work, and had no time to think much of their recent visitors; but
their visitors were thinking of them. A lady and gentleman in a city
home were listening to prolonged and full accounts of their children's
winter in the country, and every now and then the gentleman exclaimed,--
"Vosh Stebbins again!" At the end of it all, he said to his wife,--
"My dear, did you know that youngsters of that kind were scarce? I must
keep an eye on him. Susie says he's to have an education. Got a good
beginning for one now, I should say. If he should go straight, there's
no telling what he might do. He can graduate from college into my
office, if he wishes to. I knew his father, and his mother's as good as
gold."
"Hurrah!" shouted Port. "Then Vosh can kill his bears in the city. How'd
you like that, Susie? I'd like it."
Susie only turned to her mother, and asked,--
"What do you think, mother?"
"I? Oh, we will have plenty of time to think it over. We can go up there
and visit, and we can have them down here."
Nevertheless Vosh did go to college, and he did pass from it to Mr.
Hudson's law-office; and it is true, to this day, that nobody can tell
what he will do, he is doing so much and so well.
SCRIBNER'S BOOKS FOR THE YOUNG.
_Scribner's List of Juvenile Books._
_The great legend of the Nibelungen told to boys and girls._
THE STORY OF SIEGFRIED.
BY JAMES BALDWIN
With a series of superb illustrations by HOWARD PYLE.
Mr. Baldwin has at last given "The Story of Siegfried" in the way in
which it most appeals to the boy-reader,--simply and strongly told, with
all its fire and action, yet without losing any of that strange charm of
the myth, and that heroic pathos, which every previous attempt at a
version, even for adult readers, has failed to catch.
THE STORY OF ROLAND.
BY JAMES BALDWIN
With a series of illustrations by R. B. BIRCH.
This volume is intended as a companion to "The Story of Siegfried." As
Siegfried was an adaptation of Northern myths and romances to the wants
and the understanding of young readers, so is this story a similar
adaptation of the middle-age romances relating to Charlemagne and his
paladins. As Siegfried was the greatest of the heroes of the North, so,
too, was Roland the most famous among the knights of the Middle Ages.
"We congratulate the boys of the land upon the appearance of this book.
We commend it to parents who are selecting literature for their
children, assured, as we are, that it will convince them that books may
be found which will engage the attention, and stimulate the imagination,
of the young, without dissipating the mind, or blunting the moral
sensibilities."--_Philadelphia Messenger._
THE FIRST REALLY PRACTICAL BOY'S BOOK.
THE AMERICAN BOY'S HANDY BOOK;
Or, WHAT TO DO AND HOW TO DO IT.
BY DANIEL C. BEARD.
With three hundred illustrations by the author. _One volume_
_Mr. Beard's book is the first to tell the active, inventive, and
practical American boy the things he really wants to know, the thousand
things he wants to do, and the ten thousand ways in which he can do
them, with the helps and ingenious contrivances which every boy can
either procure or make._
The author divides the book among the sports of the four seasons; and he
has made an almost exhaustive collection of the cleverest modern
devices, besides himself inventing an immense number of capital and
practical ideas.
THE BOY'S _Library of Legend and Chivalry_.
EDITED BY SIDNEY LANIER, _And richly illustrated by FREDERICKS, BENSELL,
and KAPPES._
THE BOY'S KING ARTHUR
THE BOY'S FROISSART
KNIGHTLY LEGENDS OF WALES
THE BOY'S PERCY
"Amid all the strange and fanciful scenery of these stories, character
and the ideals of character remain at the simplest and the purest. The
romantic history transpires in the healthy atmosphere of the open air,
on the green earth beneath the open sky.... The figures of Right, Truth,
Justice, Honor, Purity, Courage, Reverence for Law, are always in the
background; and the grand passion inspired by the book is for strength
to do well and nobly in the world."--_The Independent._
THE BOY'S MABINOGION.
Being the earliest Welsh tales of King Arthur in the famous Red Book of
Hergest. Edited for boys, with an Introduction by SIDNEY LANIER. With
twelve full-page illustrations by Alfred Fredericks.
THE BOY'S KING ARTHUR.
Being Sir Thomas Mallory's History of King Arthur and his Knights of the
Round Table. Edited for boys, with an Introduction by SIDNEY LANIER.
With twelve full-page illustrations by Alfred Kappes.
THE BOY'S FROISSART.
Being Sir John Froissart's Chronicles of Adventure, Battle, and Custom
in England, France, Spain, etc. Edited for boys, with an Introduction by
SIDNEY LANIER. With twelve full-page illustrations by Alfred Kappes.
THE BOY'S PERCY.
With fifty text and full-page illustrations by E. B. BENSELL.
Mr. Lanier's books, which made him the companion and friend of half the
boys of the country, and showed his remarkable talent for guiding them
into the best parts of this ideal world, fitly close by giving the best
of the ballads in their purest and strongest form, from Bishop Percy's
famous collection. With "The Boy's Froissart," "The Boy's King Arthur,"
"The Mabinogion," and "The Boy's Percy," Mr. Lanier's readers have the
full circle of heroes.
FRANK R. STOCKTON'S POPULAR STORIES.
THE STORY OF VITEAU.
With sixteen full-page illustrations by R. B. BIRCH.
In "The Story of Viteau," Mr. Stockton has opened a new vein, and one
that he has shown all his well-known skill and ability in working. While
describing the life and surroundings of Raymond, Louis, and Agnes at
Viteau at the Castle of De Barran, or in the woods among the
_Cotereaux_, he gives a picture of France in the age of chivalry, and
tells, at the same time, a romantic and absorbing story of adventure and
knightly daring. Mr. Birch's spirited illustrations add much to the
attraction of the book.
A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP.
_Illustrated._
"'A Jolly Fellowship,' by Mr. Frank Stockton, is a worthy successor to
his 'Rudder Grange.' Although written for lads, it is full of delicious
nonsense that will be enjoyed by men and women.... The less serious
parts are described with a mock gravity that is the perfection of
harmless burlesque, while all the nonsense has a vein of good sense
running through it, so that really useful information is conveyed to the
young and untravelled reader's mind."--_Philadelphia Evening Bulletin._
THE FLOATING PRINCE, AND OTHER FAIRY TALES.
With illustrations by BENSELL and others.
"Stockton has the knack, perhaps genius would be a better word, of
writing in the easiest of colloquial English, without descending to the
plane of the vulgar or common-place. The very perfection of his work
hinders the reader from perceiving at once how good of its kind it
is.... With the added charm of a most delicate humor,--a real humor,
mellow, tender, and informed by a singularly quaint and racy fancy,--his
stories become irresistibly attractive."--_Philadelphia Times._
NEW EDITIONS OF OLD FAVORITES.
ROUNDABOUT RAMBLES IN LANDS OF FACT AND FICTION.
TALES OUT OF SCHOOL.
WILLIAM O. STODDARD'S CAPITAL STORIES FOR BOYS.
DAB KINZER.
A STORY OF A GROWING BOY.
"The book is enlivened with a racy and genuine humor. It is, moreover,
notably healthy in its tone, and in every way is just the thing for
boys."--_Philadelphia North American._
"It is full of fun, liveliness, and entertainment. Dab Kinzer will be
voted a good fellow, whether at home, at school, or out
fishing."--_Portland Press._
THE QUARTET.
A SEQUEL TO "DAB KINZER."
"The boys who read 'Dab Kinzer' will be delighted with 'The Quartet.' It
is the story of Dab's school and college life, and certainly equals the
former story in interest. In a literary point of view, it ranks among
the best of its kind. There are few writers of boys' books who present
boy-life in the strong, sympathetic, manly way that Mr. Stoddard does.
His good boys are genuine, fun-loving, careless, but royal-hearted. In
the words of one of their admirers, 'They're a fine lot, take 'em all
round.'"--_Boston Post._
SALTILLO BOYS.
Mr. Stoddard's stories for boys grow better and better every year. Good
as were "Dab Kinzer" and the "Quartet," SALTILLO BOYS surpasses them in
its narrative of bright, manly, and yet thoroughly boy-like life in an
inland town, whose actual name and locality may be shrewdly guessed by
those familiar with its characteristics. The incidents are thoroughly
boyish, and yet quite free from frivolity. The drift of the book is
wholly on the side of frank, intelligent, and self-reliant manliness;
and it is impossible for any boy to read it without absorbing a love for
nobility of character, and forming higher aspirations.
AMONG THE LAKES.
Mr. Stoddard's bright, sympathetic story, "Among the Lakes," is a
fitting companion to his other books. It has the same flavor of happy,
boyish country life, brimful of humor, and abounding with incident and
the various adventures of healthy, well-conditioned boys turned loose in
the country, with all the resources of woods and water, and their own
unspoiled natures.