The tinkle tinkle tank tank of drops sounded from his own eaves.

Down the far-off river, sluggish reaches of ice drifted.

Then in a night the blue disappeared from the stream.

It became a menacing gray, and even from his distance Thorpe could catch the swirl of its rising waters.

A day or two later dark masses drifted or shot across the field of his vision, and twice he thought he distinguished men standing upright and bold on single logs as they rushed down the current.
"What is the date ?" he asked of the Sister.
"The eleventh of March." "Isn't it early for the thaw ?" "Listen to 'im!" exclaimed the Sister delightedly.