ng.

When, after an hour's toil, rescuer and rescued reached the drier land
that sloped up to the levee, it was hard to tell which was the more
exhausted. To the last, however, Ross refused to let his chum bear the
burden of the puppies, and he lurched up the road to the place where he
had left the gang at work on the cave-in, not so many hours before. It
seemed weeks ago.

The Weather Man was still at work. He had been up all night, also, but
he greeted the lad cheerily as he came in sight.

"Hello, Boss!" he called, then, as the boy's exhausted state became more
evident, "what have you been doing? Has anything happened?"

"Anton was marooned," answered Ross in the dull, listless voice of
extreme fatigue.

"Marooned? You mean he was caught by the flood?"

As though in answer, Anton, toiling heavily and wearily on his crutch,
came in sight.

"Yes," said Ross, in the same tone, "he was left behind."

"How was that?" the Weather Man asked sharply.

"It wasn't anybody's fault, Mr. Levin," replied Anton, who had heard the
last two sentences as he came up, "Father thought I'd gone with Uncle
Jack, and Uncle Jack thought I'd gone with Father."

"You're not hurt?"

"No, sir," the crippled lad answered, "not a bit. Ross is, though. He
cut his arm diving through the window."

The Forecaster turned swiftly to the older boy and began examining the
injury.

"Is the house still standing?" he asked.

"No, sir," the boy answered, "it's all in bits down by Jackson's Gully."

The weather expert nodded. He knew the lay of the land and had expected
the water from the flooded hollow to pour down towards the entrance to
the gully.

"How did you get out, then?" he asked.

Anton burst into a glowing account of his rescue in the little boat
which the boys had made for their pirate adventures of two years before.
Even the excitement of the story, however, was not strong enough to keep
his overtaxed frame from showing signs of a breakdown and the Weather
Man cut the story short.

"I'm going to breakfast later," he said curtly, "but not for a couple of
hours. You two had better take a rest now. Here, Sam," he called to one
of the negroes, "bring me a bucket of coffee from your camp-kettle, and
fetch some corn-pone. Quick now, these boys are famished."

"Yas, suh! Yas, suh!" came the reply, and, a moment later, a bucket of
coffee and some corn-bread and molasses were brought.

Despite their hunger, neither Ross nor Anton