e pointed, breathless and panting, in the
direction from which he came.

"What is it?" I cried. "What's the matter?"

The answer came in a peculiar, low, hissing, rushing sound, as if a
storm were coming through the forest. It ceased directly, and died away
in a low, dull roar.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

"Here, what's the matter?" I cried; and at that moment Sarah came
running out again, looking inquiringly from one to the other.

"What was that noise?" she said.

"De ribber--de ribber," panted Hannibal. Then he tried to say more, but
he was so excited that his command of English failed him, and he turned
to Pomp, who had just come back from the hut, and said something to him
volubly in his own tongue. Pomp's mouth opened wide, and he stared
wildly at his father. Then turning to me, he caught hold of my arm.

"Come, get up the tree, Mass' George. Pull missie up the tree."

"What for? What's the matter?" I said, as the dull roaring seemed to
be coming back.

"Ribber run all ober; water take away de boat, and all gone."

"River running over? What do you mean--a flood?"

"Yes, dat's flood. Come, get up a tree."

"Oh, nonsense! Come and see."

"No, no, Mass' George, mustn't go," cried Pomp, seizing my arm, and I
was making for the path leading to the stream. "Hark! Hear dat?"

I certainly did hear a low, ominous roar rising and falling in the air,
but it sounded like distant thunder dying away. I began to be startled
now, for the look of dread in Hannibal's features was not without its
effect upon me. Just then Pomp began to drag Sarah toward the biggest
cypress about the place, chattering to her excitedly the while.

"No, no, I can't; my good boy, no," she cried. "What! Get up the tree?
Oh, nonsense! Here, Master George, my dear boy, what does it all
mean?"

"I don't know. I'm as puzzled as you are, but it means that we're going
to have a flood. I wish my father was here."

"Look here, Pomp," I said; "we need not climb a tree; it's a great
chance if the water reaches as high as the garden;" and I looked round,
thinking how wise my father had been to select this spot, which was the
only rising bit of ground near, though he had not chosen it on account
of fears of flood, but so as to be well above the swamp damp and mists.

Hannibal said something excitedly to his son.

"Yes; climb up a tree, Mass' George. Big water come roll down, wash um
all away. Ah! Make um hase, Mass' George