worms dotted here and there.

That hill was the embankment, and the glow-worms were the lanterns of
workmen examining the outer side of the embankment and prying into every
part.

The enormous size and double slope of the bank, its apparent similarity
in form and thickness to those natural barriers with which nature hems
in lakes of large dimensions, acted on Ransome's senses, and set him
wondering at the timidity and credulity of the people in Hatfield and
Damflask. This sentiment was uppermost in his mind when he rode up to
the south side of the embankment.

He gave his horse to a boy, and got upon the embankment and looked
north.

The first glance at the water somewhat shook that impression of absolute
security the outer side of the barrier had given him.

In nature a lake lies at the knees of the restraining hills, or else has
a sufficient outlet.

But here was a lake nearly full to the brim on one side of the barrier
and an open descent on the other.

He had encountered a little wind coming up, but not much; here, however,
the place being entirely exposed, the wind was powerful and blew right
down the valley ruffling the artificial lake.

Altogether it was a solemn scene, and, even at first glance, one that
could not be surveyed, after all those comments and reports, without
some awe and anxiety. The surface of the lake shone like a mirror, and
waves of some size dashed against the embankment with a louder roar than
one would have thought possible, and tossed some spray clean over all;
while, overhead, clouds, less fleecy now, and more dark and sullen,
drifted so swiftly across the crescent moon that she seemed flying
across the sky.

Having now realized that the embankment, huge as it was, was not so high
by several hundred feet as nature builds in parallel cases, and that,
besides the natural pressure of the whole water, the upper surface of
the lake was being driven by the wind against the upper or thin part of
the embankment, Ransome turned and went down the embankment to look at
the crack and hear opinions.

There were several workmen, an intelligent farmer called Ives, and Mr.
Mountain, one of the contractors who had built the dam, all examining
the crack.

Mr. Mountain was remarking that the crack was perfectly dry, a plain
proof there was no danger.

"Ay, but," said Ives, "it has got larger since tea-time; see, I can get
my hand in now."

"Can you account for that?" asked Ransome of the co