ater crawling over thirsty sand.

Foreman after foreman shouted to Findlayson, who had posted himself by
the guard-tower, that his section of the river-bed had been cleaned out,
and when the last voice dropped Findlayson hurried over the bridge
till the iron plating of the permanent way gave place to the temporary
plank-walk over the three centre piers, and there he met Hitchcock.

"All clear your side?" said Findlayson. The whisper rang in the box of
latticework.

"Yes, and the east channel's filling now. We're utterly out of our
reckoning. When is this thing down on us?"

"There's no saying. She's filling as fast as she can. Look!" Findlayson
pointed to the planks below his feet, where the sand, burned and defiled
by months of work, was beginning to whisper and fizz.

"What orders?" said Hitchcock.

"Call the roll--count stores--sit on your hunkers--and pray for the
bridge. That's all I can think of. Good night. Don't risk your life
trying to fish out anything that may go down-stream."

"Oh, I'll be as prudent as you are! 'Night. Heavens, how she's filling!
Here's the rain in earnest!" Findlayson picked his way back to his bank,
sweeping the last of McCartney's riveters before him. The gangs had
spread themselves along the embankments, regardless of the cold rain of
the dawn, and there they waited for the flood. Only Peroo kept his men
together behind the swell of the guard-tower, where the stone-boats lay
tied fore and aft with hawsers, wire-rope, and chains.

A shrill wail ran along the line, growing to a yell, half fear and half
wonder: the face of the river whitened from bank to bank between the
stone facings, and the faraway spurs went out in spouts of foam. Mother
Gunga had come bank-high in haste, and a wall of chocolate-coloured
water was her messenger. There was a shriek above the roar of the water,
the complaint of the spans coming down on their blocks as the cribs were
whirled out from under their bellies. The stone-boats groaned and ground
each other in the eddy that swung round the abutment, and their clumsy
masts rose higher and higher against the dim sky-line.

"Before she was shut between these walls we knew what she would do.
Now she is thus cramped God only knows what she will do!" said Peroo,
watching the furious turmoil round the guard-tower. "Ohe! Fight, then!
Fight hard, for it is thus that a woman wears herself out."

But Mother Gunga would not fight as Peroo desired. After the first