Ah! yonder were cattle!--a score of heads, listlessly drifting down, all the swim out of them, their long horns, like bits of dry branches, knocking together! There was a pig, and there another! And, alas! yonder floated half a dozen helpless sponges of sheep! At sight of these last he started to his feet, and set off up the hill.

It was not so hard a struggle as to cross the water, but he had still to get to the other side of several torrents far more dangerous than any current he had been in.

Again and again he had to ascend a long distance before he found a possible place to cross at; but he reached the fold at last.
It was in a little valley opening on that where lay the tarn.
Swollen to a lake, the waters of it were now at the very gate of the pen.

For a moment he regretted he had not brought Oscar, but the next he saw that not much could with any help have been done for the sheep, beyond what they could, if at liberty, do for themselves.
Left where they were they would probably be drowned; if not they would be starved; but if he let them go, they would keep out of the water, and find for themselves what food and shelter were to be had.
He opened the gate, drove them out, and a little way up the hill and left them.
By this time it was about two o'clock, and Gibbie was very hungry.
He had had enough of the water for one day, however, and was not inclined to return to the Mains.

Where could he get something to eat?
If the cottage were still standing--and it might be--he would find plenty there.