ne to
come and clear the wreckage away.

"Well, it is a terrible sight and we will hurry through the place and
cross to Johnstown flat, over another pontoon bridge further down. It
brings us out, as you see, near the main street again. Hello! there is a
man; there is his name on the sign--Kramer, isn't it? who is getting his
grocery store open, the first in town. He was flooded, but carried some
of his goods to an upper floor and saved them. Lucky Kramer! Here is a
man selling photographs on the porch of a doctor's office. Dr. Brinkey.
Oh, yes, he was drowned. His body was found last Monday.

"Well, we'll hurry by and get up to headquarters once more. It is 6
o'clock. See, the workmen are knocking off and are going to the river to
wash up. Now, out comes the baseball, for recreation always follows work
here.

"Once more on the platform of the freight station. Dusk settles down
over the valley. An engine near by begins to throb and electric lights
spring up here and there. All over the town the flames of the great
bonfires leap out of the gloom. From the camps of the workmen come
ribald songs and jests, The presence of death has no effect on the
living.

"The songs gradually die away and the singers drop off into a deep
sleep. The town becomes as silent as the graveyards which have been
filled with its victims. Not a sound is heard save the crackling of the
flames and the challenges of the sentries to some belated newspaper man
or straggler.

"And thus another day draws to a close in ill-fated Johnstown."

CHAPTER XIX.

A Day of Work and Worship

Governor Beaver has assumed the command. He arrived in Johnstown
yesterday, the 8th, and will take personal charge of the work of
clearing the town and river. For that purpose $1,000,000 from the State
Treasury will be made available immediately. This action means that the
State will clear and clean the town.

It was a day of prayer but not a day of rest in Johnstown. Faith and
works went hand in hand. The flood-smitten people of the Conemaugh,
though they met in the very path of the torrent that swept their homes
and families into ruin, offered up their prayers to Almighty God and
besought His divine mercy. But all through the ruin-choked city the
sound of the pick and the shovel mingled with the voice of prayer, and
the challenge of the sentinel rang out above the voice of supplication.
There was no cessation in the great task the flood has left them with