in
accidentally and drowned.

"He would never have left us in any case," said Sam, "and even had he
been less faithful, he would have been afraid to run away, not knowing
where to run or how to take care of himself in the woods."

They were too much grieved for Joe's loss, to relish their breakfast,
and that meal was dispatched very quickly. Tom watched the falling of
the water all day, and at night reported that the river was well inside
its banks again.

CHAPTER XVII.

A FAMINE.

The river having gone down until no water remained on the sandy bank,
Tom reported the fact and added,

"Now let's move back again to the root-fortress. It's a safer place than
this, by a good deal, if it isn't quite so big or quite so comfortable."

"No, we mustn't go back yet," said Judie, who had visited the fortress
before Tom had, "because the sand in there is as wet as can be, and I
can't let my big sick brother lie on it."

"There, Tom," said Sam, "my doctor forbids my return yet awhile, and a
sick man always must obey the doctor you know. Besides, Judie is right.
It won't do for any of us to lie on wet sand; we must wait till it
dries; but that won't be very long if the river continues to go down."

Accordingly they spent one more night in the drift cavern. Early the
next morning Judie went to the fortress, and returning said, playing
doctor.

"Now, then, Mr. Hardwicke, the floor of your lower house is quite dry,
and I think it will be safe to move back again. Will you have your
breakfast first, or will you wait until you get back home again before
eating anything?"

"Oh, let's wait, by all means, and eat breakfast in the dear old
root-fortress," said Tom, and as Sam made no objection, it was so
arranged.

By nine o'clock the moss carpet was laid in the root-fortress and the
little party was back in its old quarters again. The vacant corner which
had been Joe's, reminded them sadly of his disappearance. Poor fellow!
they had learned to love him almost as a brother, and they could not
think of him now without tears. When three people sit down with a silent
grief, their conversation is very apt to be lively, or, if they cannot
quite accomplish that, they are sure to talk only of indifferent
matters, and so it was in the present case. Judie was the first to break
the silence which had fallen upon all.

"Tom," she said playfully, "I'm afraid you're not a good provider. Here
we are, hungry as wolves, and you have