knew he were a goner. His chest were all stove in, smashed
to pieces. One of the old tree-roots must have jabbed him as the current
flung him down. I thought he were dead already, but then he opened up
his eyes.

A funny color they were, greeny yellow. And I swear, Rev'rend, when he
opened them eyes I _felt_ he was readin' my mind. I thought maybe he
might be one of them circus fellers in their flying contraptions that
hang at the bottom of a balloon.

He spoke to me in English, kind of choky and stiff, not like Joe the
Portygee sailor or like those tarnal dumb Frenchies up Canady way,
but--well, funny. He said, "My baby--in ship. Get--baby ..." He tried to
say more but his eyes went shut and he moaned hard.

I yelped, "Godamighty!" 'Scuse me, Rev'rend, but I was so blame upset
that's just what I did say, "Godamighty, man, you mean there's a baby in
that there dingfol contraption?" He just moaned so after spreadin' my
coat around the man a little bit I just plunged in that there river
again.

Rev'rend, I heard tell once about some tomfool idiot going over Niagary
in a barrel, and I tell you it was like that when I tried crossin' that
freshet to reach the contraption.

I went under and down, and was whacked by floating sticks and whirled
around in the freshet. But somehow, I d'no how except by the pure grace
of God, I got across that raging torrent and clumb up to where the crazy
dingfol machine was sitting.

Ship, he'd called it. But that were no ship, Rev'rend, it was some
flying dragon kind of thing. It was a real scarey lookin' thing but I
clumb up to the little door and hauled myself inside it. And, sure
enough, there was other people in the cabin, only they was all dead.

There was a lady and a man and some kind of an animal looked like a
bobcat only smaller, with a funny-shaped rooster-comb thing on its head.
They all--even the cat-thing--was wearing those shiny, stretchy clo'es.
And they all was so battered and smashed I didn't even bother to hunt
for their heartbeats. I could see by a look they was dead as a doornail.

Then I heard a funny little whimper, like a kitten, and in a funny,
rubber-cushioned thing there's a little boy baby, looked about six
months old. He was howling lusty enough, and when I lifted him out of
the cradle kind of thing, I saw why. That boy baby, he was wet, and his
little arm was twisted under him. That there flying contraption must
have smashed down awful hard, but that rubber