uge, hoary
monster, a living earthquake, had leaped from the prison in which it was
bound, to spring upon its prey--the great mill buildings below.

One moment all were there intact; the next they were gone, and in their
place a mighty river of water was tearing down the vale with a hiss and
roar that struck the gazers dumb; and then a great gap was visible where
the vast dam-wall had been, the pool was empty, there was little more
than a stream, and the roaring monster that had swept all before it
could be heard gnashing, raging and destroying, far away below.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

FIGHTING THE DESTROYER.

An awful hush of silence. It seemed as if it was too much for human
brain to bear. The breath was held pent-up in every breast, so that it
might have been the dwelling-place of the dumb.

Then the Vicar's voice was heard, and the sound thereof was like the key
that opened a closed-up door.

"Where's Mr Willows?" he shouted.

"Here!" came from close at hand, followed by, "And who has seen Will?"

"Here--close by me," cried Manners.

"Josh! Josh!" shouted Will.

"Here! Here! All right!"

"Then everyone is safe," cried the boy. "No, no, no!" he shouted, in
anguished tones. "Where's poor old Boil O? He was there just now,
standing by that corner. No, no! there is no corner--everything has
gone. Oh, surely he can't be drowned!"

There was no reply, but, headed by Willows, a strong party of the men
followed him and the boys down the track of the mighty torrent--a
clean-swept path of stone, for mill, house, sheds, cottages, the whole
of the tiny village was not!

There was nothing to impede their way for fully half a mile, and there,
in a deep curve down in the valley, in a turgid stream still running
fast, lay in wild confusion, baulk and beam, rafter and mass of
swept-down stone, the relics of the water's prey.

In his excitement Willows was the first to reach this pool; but Will was
close behind, near enough to stretch out a hand to try an check him as
he tore off his coat, rushed to the edge, stepped on to one stone, and
leaped to another and another projecting above the surface, before
plunging in and swimming towards where a pile of timbers were crushed
together with the water foaming by.

"What's he going to do?" cried Manners, panting as he came up.

"I don't know," cried the boy, wildly. "Oh, Mr Manners, help me--he'll
be drowned!"

As the boy spoke he followed his father's example,