ger was still overheated, from having
made such an enormous fire; but he muffled up his head in his blanket,
as if he was afraid lest even his dog should see that he was crying.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

ROGER NOT HIS OWN MASTER.

More than once during the long night, Roger heard strange sounds; and
Spy repeatedly raised his head, and seemed uneasy. Above the constant
flow of the stream, there came occasionally a sort of roar, then a
rumble and a splash, and the stream appeared to flow on faster. Once
Roger rose in the belief that the house,--the firm, substantial, stone
house,--was washed down. But it was not so. There was no moon at the
time of night when he looked forth; but it was clear starlight; and
there stood the dark mass of the building in the midst of the grey
waters. Roger vowed he would not get up from his warm rug again, on any
false alarm; and so lay till broad daylight, sometimes quite asleep, and
sometimes drowsily, resolving that he would think no more of uncle
Stephen, except in the day-time.

Soon after sunrise, however, a renewed rumble and splash roused him to
open his eyes wide. What he saw made him jump up, and run to the edge
of the precipice, to see all he could. The greater part of the roof of
the house was gone; and there were cracks in the solid stone walls
through which the yellow sunshine found its way. One portion of the
wall leaned in; another leaned out towards the water. At first Roger
expected to see the whole building crumble down into the stream, and
supposed that the inhabitants might be swept quite away. He gazed with
the strange feeling that not a creature might be now left alive in that
habitation.

Roger's heart sank within him at the idea of his own solitude, if this
were indeed the case. He had nothing to fear for his own safety. The
Red-hill would not be swept away. He could live as he was for a long
time to come; till some some steps should be taken for repairing the
damage of the flood; till some explorers should arrive in a boat; which
he had no doubt would happen soon. It was not about his own safety that
Roger was anxious; but it frightened him to think of being entirely
alone in such a place as this, with the bodies of all whom he knew best
lying under the waters on every side of him. If he could have Oliver
with him to speak to, or even little George, it would make all the
difference to him. He really hoped they were left alive. When he began
to cons