he foot of the
valley, had a great bell swung above its central barn, a bell whose
excited voice could carry but one of two messages--flood or fire.
Before they were halfway up the hill its wild clanging was calling all
across the valley.

Up Cousin Jasper's avenue they came with a rush, flung themselves out
of the car, and ran to the house. The two men were still bending over
the papers, Cousin Jasper, with his thin, intent face, listening, Tom
Brighton talking steadily, his eyes alight with that cheerful, eager
kindliness that had so drawn Oliver to him from the first moment. They
both turned in astonishment as the three came bursting in.

"A break in the dike at John Massey's place? And where was John
Massey?" Cousin Tom questioned sharply. "Gone? If we had known that he
had left, neither Jasper nor I would have been sitting here so quietly
all evening, with the river in flood. And you have given the alarm?
That is good."

There was a bustle of hasty preparations, but they were still standing
in the hall when there came the sound of flying wheels on the drive
and the uneven hoofbeats of an uncertain old horse urged to utmost
speed.

"It's Anthony Crawford," said Oliver suddenly.

The man came in, the outcast cousin who had turned his hand against
them all. His face was white, his gray eyes were burning with
excitement, his voice was harsh and choked when he tried to speak.

"The dike--I see you know already. I went down over the hill to look
and saw the moonlight on that pool of water. It was at John Massey's
place. I came to get help."

Cousin Tom alone answered.

"Why was John Massey gone?" he said.

Oliver stepped forward to Tom Brighton's side and looked curiously at
the man who been their enemy. He could see his hands shake as they
crushed his battered old hat between them.

"We had quarreled," Anthony Crawford explained, his voice suddenly
gone little and husky. "I turned him away three days ago and--and we
had some words, so that he wouldn't stay even overnight after that. He
watched the dike--and now the water is coming in."

One more question Cousin Tom asked.

"Why did you come to us?" he inquired steadily. "It would have been
quicker to go down through the fields to the farms in the valley, to
call out Henry Brook and send him with men and shovels and sandbags
to stop the flood. To get here is a mile by the road and there was no
time to lose." He pressed his question mercilessly. "Why did y