"She'd have to be swimming if she was around here," remarked Joe, looking at the waste of water.
"Yes, I reckon so," agreed the farmer. "She jest naturally likes to wander off, that spotted cow critter of mine does. I guess she'll be drowned some day. Well, I'll look a little farther, and then I'll git back. Water's gittin' higher all the while. Where you folks bound for?"
"No place in particular," Blake informed him. "We're looking for some friends of ours."
"There's been a good many lost in this flood," the farmer said. "I had two hens and a rooster drowned in the last flood. I lived on low ground then. I've moved back a piece since. I'm hopin' the water don't come up to me now."
"Is there any town near by—below here?" asked Mr. Ringold. Their supplies were getting low, and needed replenishing.
"Yes, quite a good sized one about three mile down the river. The folks is workin' hard too, to keep the water out. There's a big shipment of cotton on the wharves waitin' for a boat to take it off, I hear. But if she don't come pretty soon the cotton will go floatin' off by itself. They can't git no help to move it back, 'cause all the men are busy on the levee."
