ere goot, bot de gale vill be rise qvickly, an' I dares not leaf mine
moder vidout protection."

"Oh! but just stay for an hour or two," entreated Mrs Cockran, "and
show the people how to go on with the stage. Perhaps my husband may
return sooner than we expect. Perhaps the storm may not come on; many
such threatenings, you know, come to nothing."

Winklemann looked anxiously up at the sky and shook his head, but the
entreaties of the lady prevailed. The good-natured German consented to
remain for a "ver leetle" time, and at once set about urging on and
directing the erection of the stage. This stage was planned to be a
substantial platform about thirty feet square, supported on posts firmly
driven into the ground, so that the water might pass freely under it.
In the event of the parsonage becoming untenable it would form a refuge
of comparative safety.

It was while Winklemann was busily engaged on the stage that the storm
broke forth which compelled the clergyman to spend the night on the
islet, as already described. Of course the storm also forced Winklemann
to remain at the station. But that impulsive youth's regard for his
"moder" would not permit of his giving in without a struggle. When he
saw that the gale increased rapidly, he resolved to start off without
delay. He launched his canoe; a half-breed in his employment managed
the bow paddle, but they found that their united strength was
insufficient to drive the craft more than a hundred yards against wind
and waves. Returning to the station, Winklemann engaged two additional
men to aid him, but the increasing gale neutralised the extra force.
After a vain struggle the canoe was hurled back on the knoll, a wave
caught the bow, overturned it, and threw the men into the water at the
very door of the parsonage.

The canoe was partially broken. Time was required to repair it. Time
also gave the gale opportunity to gather power, and thus the chafing
German was compelled to spend the night at the station.

Meanwhile, those men whom he had left behind him spent a terrible night,
but the brunt of the trouble fell upon old Liz.

Poor old Liz! She was a squat piece of indomitable energy, utterly
regardless of herself and earnestly solicitous about every one else.

When the storm commenced, her dwelling had begun to show symptoms of
instability. This fact she carefully concealed from Daddy and old Mrs
Winklemann, who remained in their respective chairs s