As Mrs. Swift, breathless and in a half-dazed condition, reached the
hill top, she looked at her children and uttered a loud cry: "Where is
my baby, where is my Edward?" The child--the baby--who had lain in a
cradle at the mother's bedside, was missing.
The water had rushed into the house in such volume that the cradle had
begun to move, and was carried along gradually by the force of the
water, till it passed out unnoticed through the open door. The mother
had tried to reach the cradle in the darkness; but, not finding it, she
had concluded that the father had taken the cradle and the baby to a
place of safety, and so she had given all her attention to the other
children. But now, discovering her mistake, she wrung her hands in grief
and cried pitifully. She started to return to her home to seize her
child from so dreadful a fate, but the father held her in his strong
arms.
"Stay," said he, "you could never reach our house safely. The water is
rising too quickly and is too powerful. I will go and rescue our child.
Our helpful neighbors will go with me."
"Yes, willingly," said the two men who had just helped Mrs. Swift.
Armed with long poles which they could thrust into the ground and with
which they could steady themselves, they started forth by the light of a
lantern.
All the people on the hill watched those three men tremblingly. At last
the light died away in the distance. Still they looked, although they
could distinguish nothing.
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