y soul, and I began to long for a chance of getting away out into the
wide, wide world, and seeing all its wonders, and, maybe, becoming a great
man myself. But how could a penniless laddie work his way abroad?
Impossible.

'Well, one autumn a terrible storm swept over the country. It began with a
perfect hurricane of wind, then it settled down to rain, till it became a
perfect "spate." I had never seen such rain, nor such tearing floods as
came down from the hills.

'Our shieling was a good mile lower down the stream than the artist's
summer hut. It was set well up the brae, and was safe. But on looking out
next day a sight met my eyes that quite appalled me. All the lowlands and
haughs were covered with a sea of water, down the centre of which a mighty
river was chafing and roaring, carrying on its bosom trees up-torn from
their roots, pieces of green bank, "stooks" of corn and "coles" of hay,
and, saddest of all, the swollen bodies of sheep and oxen. My first
thought was for the artist. I ran along the bank till opposite his house.
Yes, there it was flooded to the roof, to which poor Mr. Power was
clinging in desperation, expecting, doubtless, that every moment would be
his last, for great trees were surging round the house and dashing against
the tiles.

'Hardly knowing what I did, I waved my plaid and shouted. He saw me, and
waved his arm in response. Then I remembered that far down stream a man
kept a boat, and I rushed away, my feet hardly seeming to touch the
ground, till I reached--not the dwelling, that was covered, but the bank
opposite; and here, to my delight, I found old M'Kenzie seated in his
coble. He laughed at me when I proposed going to the rescue of Mr. Power.

'"Impossible!" he said. "Look at the force of the stream."

'"But we have not to cross. We can paddle up the edge," I insisted.

'He ventured at last, much to my joy. It was hard, dangerous work, and
often we found it safest to land and haul up the boat along the side.

'We were opposite the artist's hut at length, hardly even the chimney of
which was now visible. But Power was safe as yet.

'At the very moment our boat reached him the chimney disappeared, and with
it the artist. The turmoil was terrible, for the whole house had
collapsed. For a time I saw nothing, then only a head and arm raised above
the foaming torrent, far down stream. I dashed in, in spite of M'Kenzie's
remonstrances, and in a minute more I had caught the drowning