"Call him Charlie House," suggested Joe, with a smile. "We found him in a house, so call him Charlie House."
"Good idea! We will!" decided the manager. "Will you come with us, Charlie House?"
"Yes, I'll come with you," answered the boy, as he threw off the bedclothes. "But my name is just Charlie."
"Well, Just Charlie, or Charlie House, come along then. I expect you're hungry, and we'll feed you, and do all we can for you," the manager said.
With the confidence of childhood, that knows no fear, the boy walked over the ceiling toward the rescuers. His clothing was in disorder, and his face was grimy from crying. Evidently, after the accident, he had cried himself to sleep. How he came to be alone in the overturned house could be but guessed.
"What's that?" suddenly cried Blake.
The whole house seemed to shake and tremble.
"She's adrift again, and going to turn over!" yelled Joe. "Come on! Let's get out!"
It was evident that the dwelling was going to be righted by the flood, for it tilted more and more.
