"Is the water going down yet, Mr. Levin?" asked Ross. "It looks as
though the rain were over."

"Yes," answered the Forecaster, "the rain is over, but the water's not
going down yet. It's rising. I'm fairly sure that there won't be any
more rain for a few days, fortunately, but I heard from Greenville this
morning that the river was still rising. We can stand another nine or
ten inches, but a foot would be serious. Of course, the break that
flooded out Jackson's Hollow, where your place was, Anton, is relieving
the pressure a little. We've been lucky here. I haven't heard of any
loss of life so far. It's a nasty flood, but when the rainfall last week
was reported as being so heavy, I knew we couldn't escape trouble."

"Is it just the rain that makes floods?" Anton asked.

"Just rain," was the laconic answer.

"Why is it," asked the younger boy, "that there's more rain one year
than another?"

"If I could tell you that," the old Weather Forecaster replied, "I'd be
the cleverest meteorologist in the world."

"But doesn't anybody know why it rains?"

"Certainly, we know why it rains."

"Why, Mr. Levin?"

The Forecaster pushed back his hat from his forehead and looked
quizzically at the white-faced lad.

"You really want to know why rain comes? Very well, Anton, I'll try to
tell you. Stop me, though, if you don't quite understand.

"The Earth goes whirling about in space, revolving around the Sun, as
you know, and it has, like a sort of skin around it, an envelope of air.
This air is kept from flying off by the force of gravity. You know what
that is?"

"Yes, sir," the cripple answered, "it's what makes a stone fall to the
ground."

"Exactly. Now the air is made up of little particles or molecules, like
the stone, only, of course, not so heavy. They're heavy enough, though.
How much weight of air do you suppose you're carrying, Anton?"

The boy looked puzzled.

"I don't quite see what you mean, sir," he answered.

"Suppose you had a pea on your head, it wouldn't be heavy to carry,
would it?"

"Why, no," answered the lad, laughing.

"Supposing you had a basket of peas, the basket being only about as big
round as your head, but six feet high, that would make quite a load,
wouldn't it?"

"I don't believe I could carry it," was the answer.

"And if the basket were sixty feet high, as high as a barn?"

"I'd be squashed under it."

"And if it were six miles high!"

"Why," answered Anton, "a basket s