“If I ever catch you here again,” muttered Schwartz, coming, half frightened, out of the corner—­but before he could finish his sentence, the old gentleman had shut the house door behind him with a great bang; and past the window, at the same instant, drove a wreath of ragged cloud, that whirled and rolled away down the valley in all manner of shapes; turning over and over in the air:  and melting away at last in a gush of rain.

“A very pretty business, indeed, Mr. Gluck!” said Schwartz.  “Dish the mutton, sir.  If ever I catch you at such a trick again—­Bless me, why the mutton’s been cut!”

“You promised me one slice, brother, you know,” said Gluck.

“Oh! and you were cutting it hot, I suppose, and going to catch all the gravy.  It’ll be long before I promise you such a thing again.  Leave the room, sir; and have the kindness to wait in the coal-cellar till I call you.”

Gluck left the room melancholy enough.  The brothers ate as much mutton as they could, locked the rest in the cupboard, and proceeded to get very drunk after dinner.

Such a night as it was!  Howling wind and rushing rain without intermission.  The brothers had just sense enough left to put up all the shutters, and double bar the door, before they went to bed.  They usually slept in the same room.  As the clock struck twelve, they were both awakened by a tremendous crash.  Their door burst open with a violence that shook the house from top to bottom.

“What’s that?” cried Schwartz, starting up in his bed.

“Only I,” said the little gentleman.

The two brothers sat up on their bolster, and stared into the darkness.  The room was full of water, and by a misty moonbeam, which found its way through a hole in the shutter, they could see, in the midst of it, an enormous foam globe, spinning round, and bobbing up and down like a cork, on which, as on a most luxurious cushion, reclined the little old gentleman, cap and all.

There was plenty of room for it now, for the roof was off.

“Sorry to incommode you,” said their visitor ironically.  “I’m afraid your beds are dampish; perhaps you had better go to your brother’s room; I’ve left the ceiling on there.”

They required no second admonition, but rushed into Gluck’s room, wet through, and in an agony of terror.

“You’ll find my card on the kitchen table,” the old gentleman called after them.  “Remember, the last visit.”

“Pray Heaven it may be!” said Schwartz, shuddering.  And the foam globe disappeared.

Dawn came at last, and the two brothers looked out of Gluck’s little window in the morning.  The Treasure Valley was one mass of ruin and desolation.  The inundation had swept away trees, crops, and cattle, and left, in their stead, a waste of red sand and gray mud.

[Illustration with caption:  “Sorry to incommode you”]

The two brothers crept, shivering and horror-struck, into the kitchen.  The water had gutted the whole first floor:  corn, money, almost every movable thing had been swept away, and there was left only a small white card on the kitchen table.