The Wellington enterprise. [volume] (Wellington, Ohio) 1867-188?, 1881-07-21

Auu cSOOQ III the DOORWAY, DdDy AO-
by in her arms, and watched the boys at
work.
"There's something wrong at the
mill, father" she said. ''I'm going to
run down and see, if you'll hold Abby. :"
The poor miller sat there, helpless,
and groaning away his troubles to the
baby, while Ann appeared at the race,
sledge-hammer in hand.
"You must stop it at once" she
cried, ssor the wheel will break, and
then what tOould become of usP"
With mighty blows from as many
hands as could lay hold on the hammer,
the gate went slowly down as far as it
could be driven, and, by the time the
lower gate was reached, it was easy to
close that, but still the water came from
somewhere. The old mill fairly shook
amid the creaking cries of its straining
wheels and timbers.
I" The river is breaking upi The ice
is coming over the fallP The water is
up to the mill-foori" cry one and an
other in horror.
"Out, out with the meali Let us
save all we can," shouts Andrew. "I
can manage one bag, and you two can
carry another. Take these first
One, two, ten, twenty, forty bags of
corn and rye the young Steeles saved
before the water drove them out of the
mill. And the wheel worked faster than
ever all the time, and the air was full of
the rush and the roar of Mad River at
its breaking up
Meanwhile the miller himself set the
baby a-crying, out of pure sympathy
with her papa's lamentations (but chill
dren did not say ''papa" in those days),
for he verify believed that he should be
compelled TO sit there until the flood
came and carried him away-so long
were the children gone, and so alarmed
was he at the laundering noises.
He was about to do something desper-
ate with Abby, when the arbutus face
alittle poppy-like now, it must be owned
appeared in the doorway with:
"Oh, Father! I'm afraid the mill will
90 down, but we've saved every bit of
John Lathrop's rye, and Mr.. Holiness
wheat. We thought we'd get theirs,
cause they'd need it most, and the river
is rising so fast you can see it come up,
and-and-but here comes grandfather
He's managed to come down the hill
this morning."
.ssWhere's your father? Where's your
fatherp Where's your father?' Re-
sounded through the kitchen before Ann
had time to get into that room and to
reply.
"Dreadful times, Ann, my dear" he
said, sbut think there isn't much dan
ger of the houses going, though there
is an awful power of snow up the valley
to get away somehow Don't be fright
ened, child" he added, as the warm
color paled in the girls face. "I've
seen many freshet in my time, and
paid taxes for more new bridges than
declare, Albert, you down again with
the rheumatismi Too badi Too bad
We'd better manage to get you up the
hill afore night" he ran on. "Mean-
while, I'll see to things at the mill.
Don't you worry now, my boy. Your
old father is worth something yet," and
away went the good old man, peering
here and looking there, to see to this
and that, and feeling very glad that all
the sheep and the cows were on the hill
side of the river. 1t would be so easy to
escape up the long lift of land. An
thony Steele had built his house up there
with due regard to possible times like
the present one.
Nowhere could he find Andrew and
Augustus They had disappeared from
sight.
"Where are the boys, AnnP" called
their father. "Why don't the BOYS
come and see meP want to speak to
them"
Ann heard, but something made her
hesitate.
"Ann, call the boysi" came at last,
in q tone that she felt, and that made
her paler than she had been before.
'Fatheri" she said, ''they wont hear
me. They've gonei"
"Gone WHEREOF he thundered.
"Where could the rascals go TO, when
we are all on the verge of destruction P"
sThey went over the foot-bridge,
father, and thought it would go while
they were on il, it shook so; and they
were hardly off it before one end gave
die, and now it hangs by the other
end"
"What on earth are they gone forP"
questioned Mr.. Steele.
"Why, father, can't you guessp It's
Hester and her mother that they thought
of. You know, somebody must save
Them"
"Oh, this rheumatism, this rheuma-
tisml Ann Steele, do as your father
tells you, and never marry a man whose
father or mother, or uncle or aunt, ever
had the rheumatism. Get out my
crutchesl Be quick about it, and get
my great-coat. My boysi My boysi"
he groaned. "Father," he added, as
the good white head appeared at the
door, s'the boys have gone to try and
save Hester Pratt and her crazy mother.
I am afraid we shall never see them
again"
"Why, / never thought of the Pratts.
They are right in the heart of the flood!
Their house must have been surrounded
early this morning. May the Lord for
give me for thinking only of my own,
and so little of His other childreni''
Meanwhile, no remonstrance kept Al
bert Steele from donning his great-coat
and hobbling about on his crutches, in
the vain effort to see down the stream
to the mite of house on the river-bank
where sweet Hester Pratt spent her
young life in caring for her insane
mother, who was too weak and too help
less to harm q living soul.
When the boys started they seized, in
stinctively, coil of rope from the mill.
AS they crossed the bridge they made
the two ends fast, and clung each to the
other. or rather elung to the rope, one
end of which Augustus carried, while
Andrew held the other.
On the further side of the bridge they
plunged into the rivers overflow, and
were again and again nearly forced to
go down with the current.
''Hold on, Gusi Hold on, laddyi
Remember everybody, and the babyi"
shouted Andrew (the baby was Angus
tus's pet), as the younger boy gasped.
candy, I CANT get o-nl I'm going
downi" he shrieked. He lost his foot
ing and weht under, carried down by
the current, but still clinging fast to
the rope.
In that moment, Andrew Steele be-
came a dozen boys in one. He fought
with ice-cakes, and water, and cur
rent; fought for the little figure that was
bobbing up and down. So near, and
vet so fari But he felt the strain on the