"Thank you, I think I will," replied the weathercock, hopping nimbly on to
the flagpole of the Ark. "I shall feel more at home here now that the
green meadows have turned into an ocean. A barn is no place for a rooster
when the water is above the hayloft."

Marjorie had no time to answer, for just then the rain began to fall in
torrents, making it necessary to close the window.

In a few minutes the Ark began to quiver and shake, and then, with a loud
grating noise it slipped off the ridge of the roof and once more floated
down the tide.

"Good-by, red barn, with your loft of hay,
We're off on a voyage to Far Away,"

crowed the weathercock. And then Marjorie waved her hand from behind the
window pane and ran down to breakfast where in a few minutes the family
were all seated around the table.

"What did you give the pigs for supper last night?" asked Capt. Noah,
looking at Ham suspiciously.

"Why, father?" asked Ham, in a low voice.

"Because they don't seem well this morning."

"I gave them some green apples," said Ham.

"W-e-l-l," replied Capt. Noah, "don't know as that should make them ill?"