women.

Unavailing Courage.

As they swept under the bridge he seized the rope. He was jerked
violently away from the two women, who failed to get a hold on the rope.
Seeing that they would not be rescued, he dropped the rope and fell back
on the raft, which floated on down the river. The current washed their
frail craft in toward the bank. The young man was enabled to seize hold
of a branch of a tree. He aided the two women to get up into the tree.

He held on with his hands and rested his feet on a pile of driftwood. A
piece of floating debris struck the drift, sweeping it away. The man
hung with his body immersed in the water. A pile of drift soon
collected and he was enabled to get another insecure footing. Up the
river there was a sudden crash, and a section of the bridge was swept
away and floated down the stream, striking the tree and washing it away.
All three were thrown into the water and were drowned before the eyes of
the horrified spectators just opposite the town of Bolivar.

Early in the evening a woman with her two children was seen to pass
under the bridge at Bolivar clinging to the roof of a coal house. A rope
was lowered to her, but she shook her head and refused to desert the
children. It was rumored that all three were saved at Cokeville, a few
miles below Bolivar. A later report from Lockport says that the
residents succeeded in rescuing five people from the flood, two women
and three men. One man succeeded in getting out of the water unaided.
They were taken care of by the people of the town.

A Child's Faith.

A little girl passed under the bridge just before dark. She was kneeling
on a part of a floor and had her hands clasped as if in prayer. Every
effort was made to save her, but they all proved futile. A railroader
who was standing by remarked that the piteous appearance of the little
waif brought tears to his eyes. All night long the crowd stood about the
ruins of the bridge which had been swept away at Bolivar. The water
rushed past with a roar, carrying with it parts of houses, furniture and
trees. The flood had evidently spent its force up the valley. No more
living persons were being carried past. Watchers with lanterns remained
along the banks until daybreak, when the first view of the awful
devastation of the flood was witnessed.

Along the bank lay remnants of what had once been dwelling houses and
stores; here and there was an uprooted tree. Piles of drift lay about,
in s