“Someone to do with the fishing, I think; a sort of master of the fleet very likely,” replied Mrs. Burton, who had dropped her knitting and gathered both the little girls on to her lap, as the surest means of keeping them quiet while she talked to her sister.

“How will Oily Dave like that, I wonder?” Katherine said in a musing tone, and then her thoughts went wandering off to the pails of stolen lard.  She had kept up an unremitting watchfulness ever since the time when the theft occurred, and had missed nothing more of importance; but her mistrust of Oily Dave was as great as ever.

“I don’t suppose he will like it at all,” Mrs. Burton answered.  “But it is quite time that a more responsible man was put in charge.”

CHAPTER IX

The Flood

Twenty-four hours of a hard, continuous downpour, accompanied by a warm south wind, worked a mighty difference in the aspect of things at Roaring Water Portage.  By night on the day following the arrival of the mail from Maxokama, the water was coming down the rapids with a roar, bringing great lumps of ice with it, which crashed to fragments on the rocks, or were washed down with the current to be a menace to the shipping anchored in the river below.  All day long, heedless of the pouring rain, the men had worked at getting the boats free from their winter coating of ice and snow.  So when night came, everyone was too thoroughly wet and tired to think of night school, which gave Katherine a welcome holiday from teaching.

She spent the time in sewing, and in making herself so generally entertaining that even her father was more than once beguiled into laughter.  He was better and more hopeful than for a long time past.  He was even led into thinking and talking of the future, and the work which would have to be done directly the fast-melting snow made it possible to get about once more.  Before daylight faded he had helped Miles to get the big boat out, and carefully inspected the seams to make sure that no caulking was required.  They used birchbark canoes a great deal at Roaring Water Portage in the summer-time, but there was too much ice about for birchbarks to be safe yet.

“We will knock up a little shed for the boat above the portage this summer, then when next winter comes we can lay her up there, instead of having to bring her down here,” he said to Miles, as the two discussed the probability of being able to get the boat up the portage within a week.

“Oh, don’t talk of next winter, Father; we have not got rid of this one yet!” exclaimed Mrs. Burton, who was entirely happy and contented to-night, because of the omission of night school.

“It is going very fast anyhow, and I guess we shall see bare ground in places to-morrow,” Miles put in, talking in a sleepy tone; for he too had been breaking out ice that day, and was desperately tired.

“Yes, it is going, and I’m glad of it, for it has been the hardest winter to live through that I can remember, and I’m thankful to see the last of it,” ’Duke Radford answered; and something in his look and tone made Katherine ask quickly: