ry
one must be familiar with the tendency of tails in general to shut down
when touched. The unfortunate pig obeyed the natural law, and the line
continued to slip until the hook was reached, when, of course, the
natural result followed. There could be no hope of escape, for the tail
was remarkably tough and the line strong. Peegwish held on stoutly.
Wildcat lent her aid. The jerking on the tail depressed the snout of
the pig, whose shrieks, being thus varied by intermittent gurgles,
rendered the noise more appalling, and quickly drew the whole household
to the windows.

Unfortunately there were none there but women--Mr Ravenshaw and the
other men being still absent with the boat. The canoe had also been
sent off that morning for a load of firewood, so that the only way of
relieving the pig was to haul him in at the window. But he was too
heavy to be thus treated, and as Peegwish did not wish to break his line
and lose his hook he could only hold on in despair, while Elsie and
Cora, with their mother and Wildcat, stood by helpless and horrified,
yet amused, by the novelty of the situation and the frightful noise.

While this scene was being enacted at Willow Greek, Victor, with the
recovered Tony and the rest of them, were drawing quickly near.

Deeply though the hearts of most of these wanderers were filled with
anxious fears, they could not help being impressed with the scenes of
desolation--deserted and submerged homesteads, wreck and ruin--through
which they passed. At one moment the two canoes were skimming over the
waters of a boundless lake; at another they were winding out and in
among the trees of a submerged bit of woodland. Presently they found
themselves among house tops, and had to proceed cautiously for fear of
sunken fences, and then out they swept again over the wide sheet of
water, where the once familiar prairie lay many feet below.

The maple-trees were by that time in full leaf, and the rich green
verdure of bush and tree was bursting out on all sides, when not
submerged. Swallows skimmed about in hundreds, dipping the tips of
their blue wings in the flood, as though to test its reality, while
flocks of little yellow birds--like canaries, but rather larger, with
more black on their wings--flitted from bush to tree or from isle to
isle. The month of May in those regions is styled the "flower month,"
and June the "heart-berry month," but flowers and heart-berries were
alike drowned out th