half-finished ditch and partly excavated mine in its way, a few rods
further on to join the old familiar channel. The bank of the river was
changed; the flat had become an island, between which and the slope
where she stood the North Fork was rolling its resistless yellow
torrent. As she gazed spellbound, a portion of the slope beneath her
suddenly seemed to sink and crumble, and was swallowed up in the rushing
stream. She heard a cry of warning behind her, but, rooted to the spot
by a fearful fascination, she heeded it not.
Again there was a sudden disruption, and another part of the slope sank
to rise no more; but this time she felt herself seized by the waist and
dragged back. It was her father standing by her side.
He was flushed and excited, gazing at the water with a strange
exultation.
"Do you see it? Do you know what has happened?" he asked quickly.
"The flume has fallen and turned the river," said Christie hurriedly.
"But--have you seen him--is he safe?"
"He--who?" he answered vacantly.
"George Kearney!"
"He is safe," he said impatiently. "But, do you see, Christie? Do you
know what this means?"
He pointed with his tremulous hand to the stream before them.
"It means we are ruined," said Christie coldly.
"Nothing of the kind! It means that the river is doing the work of the
flume. It is sluicing off the gravel, deepening the ditch, and altering
the slope which was the old bend of the river. It will do in ten minutes
the work that would take us a year. If we can stop it in time, or
control it, we are safe; but if we can not, it will carry away the bed
and deposit with the rest, and we are ruined again."
With a gesture of impotent fury, he dashed away in the direction of an
equally excited crowd, that on a point of the slope nearer the island
were gesticulating and shouting to a second group of men, who on the
opposite shore were clambering on over the choked debris of the flume
that had dammed and diverted the current. It was evident that the same
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