IN TIME OF FLOOD The spring which was approaching at the time when Dixie Maxwell so nearly fell over the edge of things was one which will be long remembered in the river valleys of the Middle West. During the winter there had been heavy snows, well distributed over vast areas, and after the winter was over, the storms continued, only they turned into soaking rains to patter incessantly upon all roofs and to flood the ditches on all roads, making each little ravine and hollow in the land contribute its small torrent to the rising rivers. It was at the close of the third day of steady rain that Larry came back from his reportorial trip to the _Micrometer_ office dripping like a wet umbrella. “Woosh! some little old spell of wet weather, I’ll say!” he exclaimed, stripping off his rain coat, and disappearing for a moment while he hung it over the tub in the bath-room. “River still rising?” asked Purdick, when Larry came back. “About a mile a minute, you’d say. It’s up within a few feet of the bridge deck right now. They’re saying, over town, that the railroad bridge won’t stand it.” “The Main Street bridge will go first,” Purdick predicted. “Last year, one time when the water was low, you could see the bottom of the piers sticking out like toes out of a broken boot. Looked to me as if they weren’t founded upon anything but the sand and gravel.” “If the Main Street bridge goes out it will take the railroad bridge with it,” said Larry. “In the _Chronicle_ office they told me the wires are down in every direction and the whole country’s in trouble.” “We’ll get it here, too,” asserted Purdick, who seemed to be full of gloomy forebodings. “This town was flooded once before, away back in the early days. I’ve been listening for the bell ever since you went away.” “To call the fellows out? Most of them are out now. Fellows who own boats are hard at it, dragging them up to higher ground. The boat-houses are all afloat and some of them have been washed away. I’m going out again as soon as I get my descrip.” “I’d go with you if I had a raincoat,” said Purdick. “I’ve got an old one that’s too small for me. Pile in and get your work up and we’ll take a whirl at it together.” Following this there was a silent interval of strenuous study, while the rain, coming in sheets, hissed upon the windowpanes. At the end of it, when Purdick was pushing his chair back and Larry was filling in the last few lines of his demonstration drawings, the big clock bell in the college tower was booming out its call in the “general alarm.” “That means us,” said Larry, jumping up and leaving his drawing unfinished. “Something’s happening.”