promise of better weather when Osborn went to bed, and he had known
rain like that last for a week. In fact, he had known all the hay crop
and the most part of the young turnips washed down the valley.

The rain was heavier when, early next morning, Kit went out to move some
sheep from a spot where the rising water might cut them off. He came back
along the meadow dyke and stopped for a few minutes when he reached its
weakest place. Reeds and tufts of heather whirled down the brown flood.
Wide patches of turf and soil had fallen away, uncovering the foundation
of boulders and gravel, and while Kit looked down a heavy stone rolled
out of its place and plunged into the stream. Others were ready to go;
the water was rising ominously fast and would rise for some time after
the rain stopped. There was, however, nothing to indicate that it would
stop, and Kit, knowing his native climate, looked about with some
uneasiness.

A hollow across the meadow to a hedge, behind which were two large turnip
fields, and he knew this marked a former channel of the beck. It was long
since the water had flowed that way, but his father had told him that in
heavy floods it had some times spread across the fields and joined the
other stream at Allerby. If this happened again, the bottom of the dale
would be covered and the crops ruined. When he was going away, three or
four men with picks and spades came up.

"Are you going to mend the dyke?" he asked.

"We're gan to try," said one. "I reckon we'll not can hoad her up if beck
rises much."

"She'll rise three or four feet," said Kit. "Is nobody else coming?"

"Neabody we ken aboot. Mr. Osborn sent to Allerby first thing, but miller
wadn't let him have a man."

Kit thought hard. Bell had given up the mill and his successor had a
dispute with Hayes. To repair the dyke properly would be a long and
expensive business, since there were a number of weak spots, but a dozen
men, working hard, might perhaps strengthen the threatened part
sufficiently to bear the strain. Clearly, if they were to be of use, they
must be found and set to work at once. In a sense, the risk was Osborn's,
who would pay for his neglect, but the flood might damage his tenants'
fields, and even if the damage were confined to Osborn's, Kit hated to
see crops spoiled.

"You had better begin," he said. "I'll try to get help."

"Mayhappen folks will come for you, though they wadn't for t' maister,"
one replied. "We'll need