Mary Powers, as soon as her husband left, went to the river bank. She was convinced from the appearance of the water spout that her own home would soon be washed away. The water was now running around the house and retreat to the higher ground was cut off. With the sagacity of a mother, she ordered Amy on the raft that was tied to a sapling on the river bank but a few feet from the door, and then hurriedly throwing a blanket over her shoulders, stepped on the raft. Rolla whined and barked, jumping out of the house and then in again, as if in search of something he did not like to leave behind. The white cat appeared and Rolla took her in his mouth and with a bound leaped on the raft. At that moment Wallace and his wife passed her. Where is Powers? cried the anxious wife and mother. The incessant slash of the water prevented her from hearing, but Wallace’s finger pointed to the water. Drowned! she cried. Amy, you have no father. For over an hour the sapling held the raft, when a gigantic tree that had been washed from the banks, struck it, and they were hurled into the foam of that mad stream. One, and only one saw them start. Walter Wallace had reached a point of land opposite Power’s house, but could get no nearer. A few moments after the raft broke loose the house followed. As young as Walter was, he took in the situation, and realized the fact that he was not only an orphan, but that Amy and Mary must meet a watery grave. No boat could live in that wild stream. He had but one thing to console him—the dog and cat might swim ashore and find him. Then he gave vent to his pent up feelings and cried until he fell asleep, where we will leave him for the present. CHAPTER III. Tom and Drake at the Lifting Rocks. I now take my readers to Hawk’s Nest. There sets, or rather lay, two young men, not yet out of their teens, under one of the Lifting Rocks. The wind blew a gale from the northwest and the rain fell in torrents. They were dressed in hunter style. Both were strong and vigorous. One had a rifle laying by his side and the other an Indian bow and arrows. Under the rock lay a deer that they had killed just before the storm commenced. They seemed to be very much attached to each other, but it was plain to be seen that they were not brothers. Both had grown to the stature of men. The elder, whose name was Charles Drake, weighed about one hundred and fifty pounds, with light eyes and hair. The other was called Tom Quick. He was of dark features, black hair and brown eyes. And as they lay under the rock waiting for the rain to cease, they engaged in the following conversation: I say, Tom, how do you think these large rocks got on the top of these large stones? I don’t know! replied Drake. I have often thought about that a great many times. I suppose the Great Spirit placed them there. If the Great Spirit piled up these mountains and dug out the great rivers, He could easily lift one of these rocks.