t of it.'

'I remember once before,' said Lorna, reckoning on her fingers, 'when
there was heavy rain, all through the autumn and winter, five or it may
be six years ago, the river came down with such a rush that the
water was two feet deep in our rooms, and we all had to camp by the
cliff-edge. But you think that the floods are higher now, I believe I
heard you say, John.'

'I don't think about it, my treasure,' I answered; 'you may trust me for
understanding floods, after our work at Tiverton. And I know that the
deluge in all our valleys is such that no living man can remember,
neither will ever behold again. Consider three months of snow, snow,
snow, and a fortnight of rain on the top of it, and all to be drained
in a few days away! And great barricades of ice still in the rivers
blocking them up, and ponding them. You may take my word for it,
Mistress Lorna, that your pretty bower is six feet deep.'

'Well, my bower has served its time', said Lorna, blushing as she
remembered all that had happened there; 'and my bower now is here, John.
But I am so sorry to think of all the poor women flooded out of their
houses and sheltering in the snowdrifts. However, there is one good of
it: they cannot send many men against us, with all this trouble upon
them.'

'You are right,' I replied; 'how clever you are! and that is why there
were only three to cut off Master Stickles. And now we shall beat them,
I make no doubt, even if they come at all. And I defy them to fire the
house: the thatch is too wet for burning.'

We sent all the women to bed quite early, except Gwenny Carfax and our
old Betty. These two we allowed to stay up, because they might be useful
to us, if they could keep from quarreling. For my part, I had little
fear, after what Lorna had told me, as to the result of the combat. It
was not likely that the Doones could bring more than eight or ten men
against us, while their homes were in such danger: and to meet these
we had eight good men, including Jeremy, and myself, all well armed and
resolute, besides our three farm-servants, and the parish-clerk, and the
shoemaker. These five could not be trusted much for any valiant conduct,
although they spoke very confidently over their cans of cider. Neither
were their weapons fitted for much execution, unless it were at close
quarters, which they would be likely to avoid. Bill Dadds had a sickle,
Jem Slocombe a flail, the cobbler had borrowed the constable's staff