"Sure, Red. Get on down. Send somebody to my place in a car with a trailer hitch; have 'em tow my boat down to the Hollow. It's all set up on the trailer in the garage, ready to go." He grinned wryly. "I was thinking I might take Bess up to Cayuga for a day on the water." Mrs. Chesbro looked on blankly. "Great," the chief said. "It's got a good spotlight, too. We'll need that. If you don't mind a suggestion, Henry, I'd turn out the fire department and have them standing by. You may need some able-bodied men in a hurry. Twelve feet and rising--" He hurried from the office. "Excuse me," the burgess said to Mrs. Chesbro, and tried the interphone on his desk. It worked; so far the main to the north end of the borough had not been flooded and shorted out. "Fire chief," said the interphone. "This is Henry, Chief. Red Brayer thinks, and I agree, that you should sound the general alarm for the volunteers, that they should be standing by in the engine house with their cars parked in the square. The Hollow's filling up fast--at least it must be; the water's twelve feet and rising at the bridge." "Right, Henry. That all?" "For the present, yes," the burgess sighed. He clicked the box off. Immediately he heard the klaxon on top of the building hoot three longs, then pause and hoot again and then again. It was the Emergency Muster signal, and it would galvanize fifty men scattered throughout the borough into dropping whatever they were doing, tearing to their cars and speeding to the borough hall, or more exactly to its ground floor left wing where the fire department--two LaFrance pumpers, one ancient and one beautifully new, two full-time employees, the chief and the driver--were housed. He hoped they wouldn't be too disappointed when they found they'd be on a boring standby. And now, he thought, he really ought to get out and drive around on a tour of inspection. There wasn't any point to sticking in the office with the phone out and the firemen and police already committed to action. He had hoped for some usefulness out of the local radio station, but it was silent, had been for an hour. The news of the Hollow explained that; the transmitter tower, a modest spire, was planted in a marshy field down that way. It had something to do with a good ground, he had been told once, so they had a good ground and they were now bugged out the one time they'd be able to do a public service beyond broadcasting damnfool hillbilly music.