sappeared," Mazie told him.

"Then we'll have to look around and see what can be done to make a
raft. There are five of us boys, all stout enough to do our share of
the work. We might manage to get some doors off their hinges, and
fasten them together some way or other, if Bessie could only tell us
where a clothes line was to be found."

Max tried to speak quietly, as though there was no need of being
alarmed; but after experiencing one of those tremors Mazie mentioned,
he realized that the foundations of the farm-house were being rapidly
undermined by the action of the swift running water, so that it was in
danger of being carried away at any minute.

No one could say just what would happen when this catastrophe came to
pass; the house might simply float down-stream, partly submerged; or it
was liable to "turn turtle," and become a mere wreck, falling to pieces
under the attacks of the waters.

And if they were still clinging to that sloping roof when this occurred
they would find themselves cast into the flood, half a mile away from
shore, and at the mercy of the elements.

Yes, there was sore need of doing something, by means of which they
might better their condition; and Max Hastings was not the one to waste
precious minutes dallying when action was the only thing that could
save them.

CHAPTER IX

PREPARING FOR THE WORST

Upon making further inquiries Max learned that there was a trap in the
roof, through which the girls had crept, with many fears and
misgivings, when the encroaching water within warned them that it was
no longer safe to stay there.

Looking through this he could see that the place was fully inundated.
Chairs and table were floating, and even the ladder which the girls had
used was partly washed out of a window.

"Nothing much doing down there for us," Max informed Bandy-legs, who
had crept over to the hole in the roof along with him, in order to
satisfy his curiosity.

He had heard Max ask questions of the girls, and was deeply interested
in learning what the next step might chance to be. Bandy-legs was
still secretly mourning the fact that they had been compelled to let
all that wreckage of the bridge get away from them. It had served them
so splendidly up to that time, and still thinking of the Crusoe affair,
he could not help believing that it had been a big mistake not to have
at least made some effort to hold on to what they could.

"And to think," said Bandy-legs,