g at the foot of the bank, and
then strode slowly to his tent. A moment later there seemed to be a
lingering echo of the fall of the tower in C Company's street. Captain
Nesbitt, dozing in his quarters, heard the sound, and running in the
direction of it found that Private William B. Young, aged 28, of
Oakdale, had placed the muzzle of his rifle against his left temple and
gone to swell by one the interminable list of the Conemaugh Valley's
dead.

[Illustration: A RAILROAD TRAIN DELAYED BY THE FLOOD.]

Despondency, caused by a slight illness and doubtless intensified by a
night's guard duty among the gloomy ruins, is the only known cause of
the soldier's act. He had been somewhat blue for a day, but there seemed
to be no special weight upon his mind. His brother-in-law, private
Stimmler, of the same company, said that he was always despondent when
ill, but had never threatened or attempted his life. He was a farmhand,
and leaves a wife and two children.

The Dinner "Shad" Jones Cooked.

The Sunday dinner was a great success. The bill of fare was vegetable
soup, cold ham, beans, canned corn, pickled tripe and black coffee. It
is worthy of note that the table in the officers' quarters did not have
a delicacy upon it which was not shared by the men. The commissary ran
short and had to borrow from the workmen's supplies. The dinner to-day
was cooked by "Shad" Jones, a colored man known to every traveling man
who has ever stopped at Johnstown for his ability to hold four eggs in
his mouth and swallow a drink of water without cracking a shell. He lost
his wife in the flood and the 14th has adopted him.

On this, the ninth day, the waters began to give up their dead. Stony
Creek first showed their white faces and lifeless bodies floating on
the surface, and men in skiffs went after them with their grappling
rods. Several of them were taken ashore during the afternoon and carried
to the Presbyterian Church morgue, which was the nearest. Then, too, the
dead among the wreckage on shore came to light just the same as on other
days. Their exhumation excites no notice here now. Dr. Beale, keeper of
the records of morgues, counted the numbers on his finger tips and said
there were more than fifty found to-day in Johnstown alone.

In one dead man's pocket was $3,133.62. He was Christopher Kimble, an
undertaker and finisher, who, when he saw the water coming, rushed down
stairs to the safe to save his gold and there he was lost