He could see it, too, in the dimness, an irresistible rush of water sweeping up the sloping street, and bearing with it great cakes of ice. He heard them bump and jar clumsily against the houses, piling over one another at the first obstruction or spinning ahead with the violence of the current. Then came the swish and slap of water against their own steps, and bump! bump! as a heavy ice cube slammed its weight against the house.
“Jack, are you awake?”
Oh, yes, mother! Don’t worry; we ‘re all right. The house is strong, and it can’t hurt us unless it comes up to this floor.”
“Don't wake the children until it is absolutely necessary,” she warned him.
The bumping of ice cakes against their own house was not pleasant. Jack and his mother huddled close and watched and listened. Morning was coming, and a strange-looking street was being unfolded to their view.
“Is it any higher, Jack?”
“Well, yes; I ‘m afraid so. Perhaps—listen!”
From the river, in the direction of the bridge, came a sudden crash and roar, and then the steady grating rush of tons of freed ice. Jack jumped to his feet.
“There she goes!” he shouted excitedly, forgetting the sleeping children. “Do you hear that? The jam’s burst! Look at the water! Hurray!”
Its natural channel once more free, the water