The storm had flooded the low land behind the barn. The hen yard was in
the center of a miniature island. The walls of the pigsty which Thankful
had had built rose from a lake.
"It's a mercy Pat moved to drier quarters, eh, second mate!" chuckled
the captain. "He'd have had to sleep with a life-preserver on if he
stayed here."
They fed the hens and gave George Washington a liberal measure of oats
and a big forkful of hay.
"Don't want him to go hungry Christmas Day," said Captain Obed. "Now
let's cruise around and see if Patrick Henry is singin' out for liberty
or death."
The pig was not, apparently, "singing out" for anything. When they
reached the wall of the pen by the washshed he was not in sight.
But they heard him, somewhere back in the darkness beneath the shed,
breathing stertorously, apparently sound asleep.
Georgie laughed. "Hear him," he said. "He's so fat he always makes that
noise when he's asleep. And he's awful smart. When it's warm and nice
weather he sleeps out here in the sun. When it rains and is cold, same
as now, he always goes way back in there. Hear him! Don't he make a
funny noise."
Emily came hurrying around the corner of the house.
"Captain Bangs," she whispered. "Captain Bangs!"
The captain looked at her. He was about to ask why she whispered instead
of speaking aloud, but the expression on her face caused him to change
his question to "What's the matter?"
Emily looked at Georgie before replying.
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