th the fishing, I think; a sort of master of the
fleet very likely," replied Mrs. Burton, who had dropped her
knitting and gathered both the little girls on to her lap, as the
surest means of keeping them quiet while she talked to her sister.

"How will Oily Dave like that, I wonder?" Katherine said in a
musing tone, and then her thoughts went wandering off to the pails
of stolen lard. She had kept up an unremitting watchfulness ever
since the time when the theft occurred, and had missed nothing more
of importance; but her mistrust of Oily Dave was as great as ever.

"I don't suppose he will like it at all," Mrs. Burton answered.
"But it is quite time that a more responsible man was put in
charge."

CHAPTER IX

The Flood

Twenty-four hours of a hard, continuous downpour, accompanied by a
warm south wind, worked a mighty difference in the aspect of things
at Roaring Water Portage. By night on the day following the
arrival of the mail from Maxokama, the water was coming down the
rapids with a roar, bringing great lumps of ice with it, which
crashed to fragments on the rocks, or were washed down with the
current to be a menace to the shipping anchored in the river below.
All day long, heedless of the pouring rain, the men had worked at
getting the boats free from their winter coating of ice and snow.
So when night came, everyone was too thoroughly wet and tired to
think of night school, which gave Katherine a welcome holiday from
teaching.

She spent the time in sewing, and in making herself so generally
entertaining that even her father was more than once beguiled into
laughter. He was better and more hopeful than for a long time
past. He was even led into thinking and talking of the future, and
the work which would have to be done directly the fast-melting snow
made it possible to get about once more. Before daylight faded he
had helped Miles to get the big boat out, and carefully inspected
the seams to make sure that no caulking was required. They used
birchbark canoes a great deal at Roaring Water Portage in the
summer-time, but there was too much ice about for birchbarks to be
safe yet.

"We will knock up a little shed for the boat above the portage this
summer, then when next winter comes we can lay her up there,
instead of having to bring her down here," he said to Miles, as the
two discussed the probability of being able to get the boat up the
portage within a week.

"Oh, don't talk of next