Professor Brierly now called up the Higginbotham camp for additional details. The overhanging rock had fallen, carrying with it the porch. The house was not much damaged. Professor Brierly surmised that the one thing that saved the house was the weakness with which the porch had been attached to the main building. Chapter XIX The swift boat bearing two police officers picked up Professor Brierly and Matthews. McCall and Jimmy left immediately. The avid horde of newspaper men had swooped down on the Higginbotham camp. Only the fact that they had two red-coated men in the boat enabled the old scientist and his assistant to get near the house. A path was cleared and the four men went into the living-room where the eight survivors, Jimmy Hale, McCall and as many newspaper men and women as could find standing room were crowded. The two officers with the help of two others who had arrived cleared the room after considerable difficulty. The porch had been shorn off the building as though it were done with tools. The huge rock was nestling at the edge of the water. Jimmy was surprised at the demeanor of the eight survivors. The reaction had set in. Now that the worst had come, come right before their eyes they took it with a sang-froid that was surprising under the circumstances. Pride of race, the knowledge that a great many persons had their eyes upon them, the knowledge that the entire world had their eyes on them through their representatives of the press had its influence. Samuel Goldberg and Lorenzo Tonti, the man who had influenced the framing of the Tontine insurance agreement, were killed outright by the falling of the rock. Two of the others suffered minor injuries. While they were calm the eight survivors were grim. They looked toward Professor Brierly. "How did it happen?" he asked quietly. Mr. Marshall answered. "Six or seven of us were on the porch, the rest of us were inside, finishing breakfast. McGuire was just coming up from the lake, he had been out. The rock, without any warning, came down. Poor Sam. He always sat where he could see the rock. It had a fascination for him. He always alluded to the possibility of its coming down." Charles Rochambeau leaned forward in his chair tensely. "Well, Professor, you could not save us from this could you?" He sprang up and threw his hands up with true Gallic violence. "My God, when will this end?" There was pain, grief in the deep-set eyes that looked at the excitable old man. Professor Brierly said slowly: "It will end right now, Mr. Rochambeau. It has ended." He turned to the two officers who had come with him, saying: "A man by the name of Amos Brown, who lives about six miles up the lake was shot to death this morning." Bruce Thomas started forward, crying hoarsely: "No, no. Amos Brown died thirty years ago."