Chapter 35

THE GLEN AT BREAK OF DAY.

My first intimation that the burns were in flood came from Waster
Lunny, close on the strike of ten o'clock. This was some minutes
before they had any rain in Thrums. I was in the school-house, now
piecing together the puzzle Lord Rintoul had left with me, and
anon starting upright as McKenzie's hand seemed to tighten on my
arm. Waster Lunny had been whistling to me (with his fingers in
his mouth) for some time before I heard him and hurried out. I was
surprised and pleased, knowing no better, to be met on the
threshold by a whisk of rain.

The night was not then so dark but that when I reached the
Quharity I could see the farmer take shape on the other side of
it. He wanted me to exult with him, I thought, in the end of the
drought, and I shouted that I would fling him the stilts.

"It's yoursel' that wants them," he answered excitedly, "if you're
fleid to be left alone in the school-house the nicht. Do you hear
me, dominie? There has been frichtsome rain among the hills, and
the Bog burn is coming down like a sea. It has carried awa the
miller's brig, and the steading o' Muckle Pirley is standing three
feet in water."

"You're dreaming, man," I roared back, but beside his news he held
my doubts of no account.

"The Retery's in flood," he went on, "and running wild through
Hazel Wood; T'nowdunnie's tattie field's out o' sicht, and at the
Kirkton they're fleid they've lost twa kye."

"There has been no rain here," I stammered, incredulously.

"It's coming now." he replied. "And listen: the story's out that
the Backbone has fallen into the loch. You had better cross,
dominie, and thole out the nicht wi' us."

The Backbone was a piece of mountain-side overhanging a loch among
the hills, and legend said that it would one day fall forward and
squirt all the water into the glen. Something of the kind had
happened, but I did not believe it then; with little wit I pointed
to the shallow Quharity.

"It may come down at any minute," the farmer answered, "and syne,
mind you, you'll be five miles frae Waster Lunny, for there'll be
no crossing but by the Brig o' March. If you winna come, I maun
awa back. I mauna bide langer on the wrang side o' the Moss ditch,
though it has been as dry this month back as a tabbit's roady. But
if you--" His voice changed. "God's sake, man," he cried, "you're
ower late. Look at that! Dinna look--run, run!"

If I had not run before he bade me, I might never have run again
on earth. I had seen a great shadowy yellow river come riding down
the Quharity. I sprang from it for my life; and when