. The terrible details of
the appalling disaster would fill several volumes larger than this. On
rushed the mighty waters, sweeping onward in their flood dwellings,
churches and buildings of every description, whether of wood, brick or
stone, until Johnstown was reached and destroyed. The town was literally
lifted from its foundations. Thousands of men, women and children were
caught up and swirled away in the pitiless flood, and their agonizing
but vain appeals for help could be heard amidst the mighty roar of the
waters. Many acts of heroism were performed by brave men and women--yes,
and boys--in rescuing victims of the flood. Only one of them concerns us
here. Charles Hepenthal, a schoolboy, seventeen years of age, who was on
his way to Bellefonte from his home at East Liberty, Pa., on the evening
of the flood, stood quietly among the passengers on the express train,
as they crowded to view the terrible havoc done by the flood. As the
flood reached the train, at Sang Hollow, a small frame house came
pitching down the mad tide, an eddy floated it in, near to the train, so
close that the wailing cries of an infant were heard, piercing their way
through the roar. Charles Hepenthal's heart was touched and his courage
was equal to the emergency. He determined to rescue that little wailing
waif from a watery grave. Strong men urged him to desist, insisting that
he would only sacrifice his own life for nothing--that it was impossible
for any one to survive in the surging waters. But the boy was resolved.
He cut the bell cord from the cars, tied it fast to his body, and out
into the whirling gulf he went; he gained the house, secured the infant
and returned through the maddened waters with the rescued babe in his
arms. A shout went up from the passengers on the train. "Wait!" he
cried; "there is still another in the house, I must save her!" and,
seizing a plank to use as a support, he plunged again into the surging
waters. Ah! his struggle this time was harder, for his precious load was
heavy. In the floating house on his first visit he found a little girl,
apparently ten years old, disrobed and kneeling beside her bed, on which
lay the screaming infant, praying to her Father in heaven to save her
and her baby brother from the fury of the flood. "God has heard my
prayer," she cried, as Charles entered the door. "Oh, save the baby,
quick," and then fainted away on the floor. When Charles had landed the
babe in safety and retur