the room with a loud crash,
while a volume of seething water washed over it almost throwing him down
with its terrible force. The water poured in little jets through the
cracks in the walls and rushing into the fireplace put out the flames
and left the room in total darkness.

The water rose rapidly and by the time that Crescimir had grasped the
form of his little guest and opening one of the windows had drawn
himself with his charge upon the roof, the flood had reached the upper
sashes.

The cabin swayed to and fro and every moment seemed about to be carried
from its foundations. The Christchild made no sound of fear and
Crescimir could not see his face, yet he held the long hemlock branch
tightly in his little hand.

The roof was firmly built of logs and planks so in case the house fell
it could be used as a raft and Crescimir exerting all his strength
pulled from the sides the flat boards which held it fixed to the cabin.

As the flood rose higher, he took the Christchild and lying down in the
middle of the roof held on firmly.

Suddenly the roof was lifted and whirled down the swollen arroyo into
the broad river. Floating logs struck against it, and as they tore
along under the bridge they struck against the buttress with terrific
force. Onward they were whirled; they could see the lights in the houses
of the village and could hear the voices of men and women along the
bluffs or in the trees where they had sought shelter.

The rain ceased falling, but the wind did not go down, rolling the waves
over their raft. Once they lodged for a moment against a great oak where
Crescimir strove in vain to make fast. The tide was too powerful and all
went with it whirling blindly onward.

[Illustration: Scroll]

[Illustration: Scroll]

III.

The waters fell almost as rapidly as they had risen, and by sunrise on
Christmas Day, the river had returned between its banks, though still
flowing fast and frothy.

Mists lay in strata along the hills showing the green grass between in
long, even stripes. Up from the high mesas sprang the larks ready to
greet the day, or perching for a moment on some sturdy manzanita they
spread their broad tails, with two white feathers, balancing and
chirping cheerily.

A little valley through which an arroyo flowed, scantily bordered by low
growing willows, formed the scene; on one side was a stubble-field with
many cattle grazing on the new grass; there were a few dark oaks and