t seems a mere nothing," he said, as the last stone was cast, "but it
is all that we can do, and we must keep on."

"Ahoy, there!" came from the opposite end just then. "What's the
matter, Mr Willows?" and the burly figure of the artist came hurrying
across the dam. "Not safe?"

There was another hail, and the Vicar came hurrying down the path,
preceded by his son.

"Why, Willows," he cried, breathlessly, "surely the dam is not giving
way?"

"Oh, father!" faltered Josh. "It must be that--that--"

"What do you mean, boy? Speak!"

"It is something to do with the noise we all heard last night."

At that moment, with the rising sun shining full upon his fierce,
contracted face and glistening bald head, Drinkwater stood leaning out
from the farther bank, holding tightly with one hand to an overhanging
birch, and if ever countenance wore a fiendish smile, it was his.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

THE GREAT PERIL.

The Vicar had no chance to ask Josh what he had heard, for the boy had
rushed on to the dam, regardless of any danger that might be near, to
reach Mr Willows, to whom he clung breathless and exhausted from his
efforts to answer the summons of the bell.

"Where's Will?" he cried, earnestly. "Where's Will?"

"Safe, boy, safe," replied Willows, huskily. "Back to the side. It's
dangerous here."

"I only wanted to know where Will was. I don't mind now. I'm going to
stop and help."

"Ahoy, there! Drinkwater!" shouted the north-country man. "Come on!
Here's lots to do. This is bigger job than putting t'fire oot."

The man addressed heard the appeal, shaded his eyes for a moment with
his hand, and as if influenced by the strong man's words, came slowly
down from his place of vantage to join the group, which now set to work
loosening the stones near the top of the dam, to carry them to the wall
end and pitch or roll them down into the weakened part.

For a full half-hour all worked as men had never worked before,
conscious the while that those they loved were gathered at each end of
the threatened wall high up in safely, and watching their efforts to
save the mill. But at the end of that half-hour Willows suddenly
stepped to where the Vicar and Manners were toiling like the rest, the
latter, with dripping face, displaying his giant strength.

"Stop!" he cried. "The dam is bound to go! Labour in vain! We are
sure to have some warning. All follow to the mill. Let's save there
all we can."

T