STORiM SCENE ON THE MlSSISSim. 133 



This I did do, but I heard nothing save the cou- 

 tinued chittering of the rain, and after awhile I said so. 



For some time the Indian made no reply, although 

 I was conscious that he was intensely interested in the 

 prevailing dull sounds without. 



Suddenly he sprang upon his feet and groped his 

 way to the door. The intrusive noise awoke the wood- 

 chopper, who instantly seizing his rifle, sang out : 



" Ualloo, what's the matter, you red varmint, snort- 

 ing in a man's face like a scared bufi^alo bull, what's 

 the matter ? " 



'^River too ncar^^^ was the slow reply of the Indian. 



" He's right, so help me ,'' shouted the wood- 

 chopper, " the banks of the Mississippi ar caving in," 

 and then with a spring he leaped through the door and 

 bid us follow. 



His advice was quickly obeyed. The Indian was the 

 last to leave the cabiii^ and as he stepped from its thresh- 

 old, the weighty unhewn logs that composed it, crum- 

 bled, along with the rich soil, into the swift-running 

 current of the mysterious river. 



This narrow escape made our fortunes somewhat 

 bearable, and we waited with some little patience 

 for day. 



At the proper time the sun rose gloriously bright, 

 as if its smiling face had never been obscured by a 

 cloud. 



The little birds of the woods sung merrily, there 



