The face of the landscape had changed again.

One of the lower terraces had become a wild mere of sedge and reeds.

The dry and dusty bed of a forgotten brook had reappeared, a full-banked river, crossing the turnpike and compelling a long detour before the traveler could ford it.

But as he approached the Hopkins farm and the opposite clearing and cabin of Jim Hooker, he was quite unprepared for a still more remarkable transformation.

The cabin, a three-roomed structure, and its cattle-shed had entirely disappeared! There were no traces or signs of inundation.