lay crippled in the
hospital, only the wreck of a man, whereupon Michael, zealous in his
brother's cause, had followed the work over into Kentucky, where a
bridge was building across the river at Covington. His purpose was to
bring suit against the company for the injury done to Dan.

"And here came the fateful part of it, for scarcely had Michael set foot
upon the structure--he had certainly not been ten minutes upon it--when
the false work gave way and two iron spans, unsupported now, tipped
slowly, then smashed down into the river, carrying with them ruin and
death. In this catastrophe were numbered some dozens of wounded and
killed, and among the latter was Michael Johnson, found under the river
standing upright in a tangle of wreckage, caught and held by the
bridge-man's fate."

Then another man told the story of a falling bridge that thrilled me
more than this one, although there was in it no loss of life. I always
feel that a man who faces death unflinchingly for a fairly long time
shows greater heroism, even though death be driven back, than another
man who suffers some sudden taking off with no choice left him. This
bridge was building at White River Junction, Vermont, over the upper
waters of the Connecticut. There was a single iron span reaching two
hundred feet between piers of masonry, and everything was ready to swing
her off the false work except the driving of a few iron pins. And a
bridge swung is a bridge practically finished, so it was merely a matter
of hours to put the contractors at ease of mind against any dangers of
the torrent. Meantime the dangers were there, for heavy rains had fallen
and angered the river with a gorge of mountain streams.

At five o'clock of an afternoon the engineer in charge saw that a crisis
was approaching. The waters were sweeping down runaway logs in fiercer
and fiercer bombardment, and it was a question if the false work could
hold against them. And for the time being, until morning surely, the
false work must carry the span. If the false work went the span would
go, and the bridge would be destroyed.

So the chief engineer ordered all hands down on scows and rafts, which
were straightway jammed close against the false work by the current.
Down on these lurching platforms went seventeen bridge-men, and set to
work with iron-shod pike-poles, spearing the plunging logs as they came
by and swinging them out through the bents of false work, down roaring
lanes of water