bravely, but with tears in his eyes. “It was our fault; we set the barn afire!”
“What!” exclaimed Uncle Daniel in surprise. “You boys set the barn afire!”
“Yes,” spoke up Bert. “It was mostly my fault. I threw the cigarette away and we couldn’t find it.”
“Cigarette!” exclaimed Uncle Daniel. “What!—you boys smoking!”
Both Bert and Harry started to cry. They were not used to being spoken to like that, and of course they realized how much it cost to put that nasty old cigarette in their mouths. Besides there might have been a great deal more damage if it hadn’t been for the rain.
“Come with me!” Uncle Daniel said; “we must find out how all this happened,” and he led the unhappy boys into the coach house, where they all sat down on a bench.
“Now, Harry, stop your crying, and tell me about it,” the father commanded.
Harry tried to obey, but his tears choked him. Bert was the first able to speak.
“Oh, Uncle Daniel,” he cried, “we really didn’t mean to smoke. We only rolled up some corn silk in a piece of paper and—”
His tears choked back his words now, and Harry said:
“It was I who rolled the cigarette, father, and it was awful, it almost made us sick. Then when Bert put it in his mouth—”
“I threw it away and it must have fallen in the hay!” said Bert.
“Why didn’t you come and tell me?” questioned Uncle Daniel severely. “It was bad enough to do all that, but worse to take the risk of fire!”
“Well, the storm was coming,” Harry answered, “and we went to help John with the hay!”
“Now, boys,” said Uncle Daniel, “this has been a very serious lesson to you and one which you will remember all your lives. I need not punish you any more; you have suffered enough from the fright of that awful fire. And if it hadn’t been that you were always pretty good boys the Lord would not have sent that shower to save us as He did.”
“I bet I’ll never smoke again as long as I live,” said Harry determinedly through his tears.
“Neither will I,” Bert said firmly, “and I’ll try to make other fellows stop if I can.”
“All right,” answered Uncle Daniel, “I’m sure you mean that, and don’t forget to thank the Lord tonight for helping us as He did. And you must ask His pardon too for doing wrong, remember.”
This ended the boys’ confession, but they could not stop crying for a long time, and Bert felt so sick and nervous he went to bed without eating any supper. Uncle Daniel gave orders that no one should refer to the fire or cause the boys any more worry, as they were both really very nervous from the shock, so that beyond helping John clear things up in the burned end of the barn, there was no further reference to the boys’ accident.
Next day it rained very hard—in fact, it was one of those storms that come every summer and do not seem to know when to go away.
“The gate at the sawmill dam is closed,” Harry told Bert, “and if the pond gets any higher they won’t be able to cross the plank to open up the gate and let the water out.”
“That would be dangerous, wouldn’t it?” Bert asked.
“Very,” replied Harry. “Peter Burns’ house is right in line with the dam at the other side of the plank, and if the dam should ever burst that house would be swept away.”
“And the barn and henhouse are nearer the pond than the house even!” Bert remarked. “It would be an awful loss for a poor man.”
“Let’s go up in the attic and see how high the pond is,” Harry suggested.
From the top of the house the boys could see across the high pond bank into the water.
“My!” Bert exclaimed; “isn’t it awful!”
“Yes, it is,” Harry replied. “You see, all the streams from the mountains wash into this pond, and in a big storm like this it gets very dangerous.”
“Why do they build houses in such dangerous places?” asked Bert.
“Oh, you see, that house of Burns’ has stood there maybe one hundred years—long before any dam was put in the pond to work the sawmill,” said Harry.
“Oh, that’s it—is it?” Bert replied. “I thought it was odd to put houses right in line with a dam.”
“See how strong the water is getting,” went on Harry. “Look at that big log floating down.”
“It will be fun when it stops raining,” remarked Bert. “We can sail things almost anywhere.”
“Yes, I’ve seen the pond come right up across the road down at Hopkins’ once,” Harry told his cousins. “That was when it had rained a whole week without stopping.”
“Say,” called Dinah from the foot of the stairs. “You boys up there better get your boots on and look after that Frisky cow. John’s gone off somewhere, and dat calf am crying herself sick out in de barn. Maybe she a-gettin’ drownded.”
It did not take long to get their boots and overcoats on and hurry out to the barn.
“Sure enough, she is getting drownded!” exclaimed Harry, as they saw the poor little calf standing in water up to her knees.
“Where is all the water coming from?” asked Bert.
“I don’t know,” Harry answered, “unless the tank upstairs has overflowed.”
The boys ran up the stairs and found, just as Harry thought, the tank that supplied all the barns with water, and which also gave a supply for the house to be used on the lawn, was flowing over.
“Is there any way of letting it out?” asked Bert, quite frightened.
“We can open all the faucets, besides dipping out pailfuls,” said Harry. “But I wish John would get back.”
Harry ran to get the big water pail, while Bert turned on the faucet at the outside of the barn, the one in the horse stable, another that supplied water for the chickens and ducks, and the one John used for carriage washing. Frisky, of course, had been moved to a dry corner and now stopped crying.
Harry gathered all the large water pails he could carry, and hurried up to the tank followed by Bert.
“It has gone down already,” said Harry, as they looked into the tank again. “But we had better dip out all we can, to make sure. Lucky we found it as soon as we did, for there are all father’s tools on the bench right under the tank, besides all those new paints that have just been opened.”
“Here comes John now,” said Bert, as he heard the barn door open and shut again.
“Come up here, John!” called Harry; “we’re almost flooded out. The tank overflowed.”
