True Stories of Wonderful Deeds: Pictures and Stories for Little FolkAnonymous
General
True Stories of Wonderful Deeds: Pictures and Stories for Little Folk
Anonymous
Heroes -- Juvenile literature
Soon the water burst through the river bank, spreading over the country,
sweeping down the tall grass jungle and surging and roaring round our
hill. Packing all that was valuable in small parcels, we gathered them
in a heap, hoping that the flood would subside ere it reached the
building. All round about large trees, uprooted by the terrible force of
the deluge, were swept along, several animals vainly trying to keep a
footing among their roots and branches. At last the water reached the
steps of the house; so, pulling our boat close up, we stepped in with
what we could save and hung to the wooden posts of the building, vainly
trusting that the worst had come; but it was not so, for we soon had to
leave go the post and pass the boat's rope round a tree. The water then
rushed in, the house toppled over, and it and its contents were swept
away by the flood.
In a short time the tree began to shake and bend, so we knew that it was
being uprooted; therefore, letting go the rope, we launched forth upon
the seething waste of waters and were whirled away. Onward we rushed
through masses of logs, branches, the remains of houses, and such like
wreck, having to be very careful that our frail vessel did not get upset
or crushed. Twice we made for the tops of hills that showed themselves
above water, but on approaching them we found that they had been taken
possession of by wild animals.
Here a tiger crouched on a branch of a tree, seemingly too much alarmed
at his perilous position to molest the half-dozen deer that crowded
timidly together right underneath his perch. Up above him the smaller
branches were stocked with monkeys, who looked very disconsolate at
their enforced imprisonment. As we swept past, the tiger raised his
head, gave a deep growl and showed his teeth, then crouched down again
as if fully aware of his helplessness, and we had too much to think of
ourselves to interfere with him.
Gaining the open country, the scene was one of desolation; but the
current was not so strong, so we turned round, seeing the flood was
going down, and by nightfall we had got back to where the house had
stood. Every vestige of the once pretty homestead had disappeared, with
sheep and cattle, though the fowls had managed to find a roost on the
topmost branches of some orange trees, which alone remained to mark the
spot.
As the moon rose, the mountaineers came down from the villages, and,
embarking on rafts and in canoes, went round the different hills,
shooting and spearing the animals that had swum there; and truly the
sight of such a hunting scene was an exciting one. Here a stout stag,
defending himself with his antlers as best he might against the
spearsmen, kept up a gallant fight till death.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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