back, or to look after them in Hannibal, until he returned, but the players decided to go back. They could do nothing in the flooded district.
"And I suppose you'll go back with the others, C. C.," remarked the manager.
Everyone was unprepared for the gloomy comedian's answer.
"No, I'll stick with you and the boys," he said, quietly. "I may be able to help you in the rescue work. I'd give a good deal to be able to find them; especially little Birdie Lee."
"Shake!" cried Mr. Ringold, clasping Mr. Piper's hand. "I guess there's nothing the matter with your liver, after all!"
There was a freight shed near where the train was stalled, and under this those passengers who were not going back, stood, while waiting for the tug to make a landing.
It rained steadily, sometimes coming down in a veritable deluge, and again only drizzling. It was a wet, miserable time for all, but Blake and Joe did not murmur. Their only regret was that the weather conditions were such as to prevent them from using their cameras.
"But it may clear up to-morrow," spoke Blake.
"I hope so," joined in Mr. Piper.
"His liver is still good," murmured Joe.
