ction, and instinctively threw out her
hand and clutched it.

Here she remained until the water subsided, when she found that she was
on the roof of one of the Cambria mills, and had been saved by holding
on to a pipe that came through the roof.

A Night of Agony.

All through that awful night she remained there, almost freezing to
death, and enveloped in a dense mass of smoke from the burning drift on
the other side of the bridge. The cries of those being roasted to death
were heard plainly by her. On Saturday some men succeeded in getting her
from the perilous position she occupied and took her to the house of
friends on Prospect Hill. Strange to say that with the exception of a
few bruises she escaped without any other injuries.

Another survivor who told a pathetic story was John C. Peterson. He is a
small man but he was wearing clothes large enough for a giant. He lost
his own and secured those he had on from friends.

"I'm the only one left," he said in a voice trembling with emotion. "My
poor old mother, my sister, Mrs. Ann Walker, and her son David, aged
fourteen, of Bedford county, who were visiting us, were swept away
before my eyes and I was powerless to aid them.

"The water had been rising all day, and along in the afternoon flooded
the first story of our house, at the corner of Twenty-eighth and Walnut
streets. I was employed by Charles Mun as a cigarmaker, and early on
Friday afternoon went home to move furniture and carpets to the second
story of the house.

"As near as I can tell it was about four o'clock when the whistle at the
Gautier steel mill blew. About the same time the Catholic church bell
rang. I knew what that meant and I turned to mother and sister and said,
'My God, we are lost!'

Here's A Hero.

"I looked out of the window and saw the flood, a wall of water thirty
feet high, strike the steel works, and it melted quicker than I tell it.
The man who stopped to blow the warning whistle must have been crushed
to death by the falling roof and chimneys. He might have saved himself,
but stopped to give the warning. He died a hero. Four minutes after the
whistle blew the water was in our second story.

"We started to carry mother to the attic, but the water rose faster than
we could climb the stairs. There was no window in our attic, and we were
bidding each other good-by when a tall chimney on the house adjoining
fell on our roof and broke a hole through it. We then climbed out on