Flood Warning by Jacqueline Pearce Page A

trees.
    â€œCome on!” said Tom. He waved a hand for Peggy to follow him. “We’re almost at the river.”
    â€œOkay,” Peggy said. “But this time I’ll lead the way.”
    She pushed past Tom and ran down a trail through the underbrush. They could hear the sound of the river ahead. Peggy emerged from the trees and stopped in surprise. Tom and Amos almost bumped into her.
    Usually, there was a wide gravel bank between the trees and the river. But now, the water had crept up over the rocks. It was lapping at a row of sandbags piled at the edge of the trees.
    â€œDo you think it’s going to flood?” Peggy asked.
    â€œNah,” Tom said. “If the water gets any higher, the sandbags will stop it.”
    Each spring, when the snow melted in the mountains, the waters of the Fraser River rose. Two years ago, soldiers back from the Second World War had piled sandbags along the river. The sandbags acted like a dyke, or a low wall, to help keep the water from flooding the farmland.

    â€œI don’t know,” Peggy said. She pointed to a spot where a section of sandbags had fallen over and left a gap. “Those sandbags don’t look like they could stop much.”
    She glanced up at the sun, which was getting lower in the sky.
    â€œI’ve got to get home to help with milking,” she said.
    â€œMe too,” said Tom. There was never a holiday from milking.
    Reluctantly, Tom turned away from the widening brown river. If there were a flood, what would the Lone Ranger do?

CHAPTER TWO

    Milking Time
    When they got back to Tom’s house, the cows were already shuffling into the barn for milking. Peggy said goodbye and raced down the driveway. Her family’s dairy farm was just across the road.
    Tom forgot about the river and hurried into the barn. His dad was using a pitchfork to toss hay into the cows’ feed troughs.
    â€œYou’re late,” Dad said, not looking up. He handed Tom the pitchfork. It was Tom’s job to feed the cows. Tom’s mom and dad did the milking.
    Tom stuck the fork into a hay bale. He pulled out some loose hay and dropped it into the next stall. He finished putting out the hay and made sure the cows were settled into their stalls. Then he went to help with the milking.

    Dad was bent under a large brown and white cow. He directed streams of milk into a metal pail. When the pail was full, he passed it to Tom. It took all of Tom’s strength to lift the pail. He dumped the milk into the tall metal container used for storing and shipping milk.
    The family’s dairy farm was small. They had ten Guernsey cows and some spring calves. The male calves had already been sold. Three female calves remained with their mothers. The adult cows had to be milked twice a day, early in the morning and before supper. Tom’s parents did all the milking by hand. It took about an hour and a half to finish. When they bought a milking machine, it would be quicker.
    It wasn’t until the family was sitting around the kitchen table eating supper that Tom remembered the river.
    â€œI went down to the river today with Amos and Peggy,” Tom told his parents.
    â€œSo that’s why you were late,” said Dad, sounding annoyed. But his mouth quirked sideways. Tom knew he wasn’t really mad.
    â€œThe river’s getting pretty high,” Tom said.
    Tom’s mom looked at her husband with concern. “It won’t rise high enough to flood, will it?” she asked.
    â€œI don’t think there’s anything to worry about,” said Dad. But the smile had left his lips.

CHAPTER THREE

    Alarm Call
    Tom woke in the middle of the night. Someone was banging on the front door of the house. Amos got up from the floor beside Tom’s bed. He barked twice, then padded out of the room and down the stairs.
    Tom’s parents stirred in the next bedroom. Dad’s footsteps followed Amos down the stairs. The front door