th another sigh, the top of the
window tipped off his cap, which fell into the water. He cared little
for the loss, but stood watching the cap as it floated slowly away with
the current, and compared its receding form with his dwindling joys.
The current, which was not strong there, carried the cap straight to the
knoll several hundred yards off, on which stood the smoking-box of old
Sam Ravenshaw, and stranded it there.

The incident turned the poor youth's mind back to brighter days and
other scenes, especially to the last conversation which he had held with
the owner of the smoking-box. He was mentally enacting that scene over
again when Peegwish pulled up to the house and passed under the window.

"Come along, you old savage," said Ian, with a good-humoured nod; "I
want your help. Go round to the front and shove into the passage. The
doorway's wide enough."

Peegwish, who was fond of Ian, replied to the nod with a hideous smile.
In a few minutes the two were busily engaged in collecting loose
articles and bringing things in general into order.

While thus engaged they were interrupted by Beauty cackling and
screaming with tremendous violence. She was evidently in distress.
Running up a ladder leading to the garret, Ian found that the creature
had forced her way through a hole in the roof, and entangled herself in
a mass of cordage thrown in a heap along with several stout ropes, or
cables, which Angus had recently bought with the intention of rigging
out a sloop with which to traverse the great Lake Winnipeg. Setting the
hen free, Ian returned to his work.

A few minutes later he was again arrested suddenly, but not by Beauty
this time. He became aware of a peculiar sensation which caused a
slight throbbing of his heart, and clearly proved that, although
lacerated, or even severely crushed, that organ was not quite broken!

He looked round at Peegwish, and beheld that savage glaring, as if
transfixed, with mouth and eyes equally wide open.

"Did you feel _that_, Peegwish?"

Yes, Peegwish had felt "that," and said so in an awful whisper without
moving.

"Surely--no, it cannot have been the--"

He stopped short. There was a low, grinding sound, accompanied by a
strange tremor in the planks on which they stood, as if the house were
gradually coming alive! There could be no mistake. The flood had risen
sufficiently to float the house, and it was beginning to slide from its
foundations!

"Peegwish