CHAPTER XI.
A Cable Snaps.
Our lazy land smiling and dreaming to itself had disappeared; in its stead, the wind howled down the river from the west and lashed the water into what would have looked respectable waves to one who had not been on the ocean and seen the real thing.

The new grass lay flat upon the prairies, and chunks of dirt rattled down from the roof of Pochette's primitive abiding-place.

It is true the sun shone, but I really wouldn't have been at all surprised if the wind had blown it out, 'most any time.
Pochette himself looked worried when we trooped in to breakfast.

(By the way, old King never showed up till we were through; then he limped in and sat down to the table without a glance our way.) While we were smoking, over by the fireplace, Pochette came sidling up to us.

He was a little skimpy man with crooked legs, a real French cut of beard, and an apologetic manner.