The next minute he was hurrying up towards his people, walking-stick in hand, to leap upon a stone where he could be well seen by the choral singers on either side of the vale, and there for about a minute he stood, waving his baton-like stick, conducting his strange double choir, who sang more loudly their cheery mill-song, and at their best, till in an instant, like a thunderclap, there was a sharp report, the song became a wail of agony, and the voice of the master was heard above all, crying-- "For your lives, men, run!" It could only have been for a few seconds, during which nothing seemed to happen save that there was the patter and scramble of many feet as with one accord all seemed to have made for safety, while, as that haven was reached, all turned their eyes towards the dam, to look in wonder, seeking as they did in vain for the cause of that sharp report. Another or two of those strangely drawn-out seconds passed, and then the watchers had their reward. The great, green, mossy wall, with all its luxuriance of orange-tinted bracken and golden fern, seemed to shiver as if touched by a passing wind. Then the quivering motion ceased, the whole centre crumbled softly down, and it was as if some huge, hoary monster, a living earthquake, had leaped from the prison in which it was bound, to spring upon its prey--the great mill buildings below. One moment all were there intact; the next they were gone, and in their place a mighty river of water was tearing down the vale with a hiss and roar that struck the gazers dumb; and then a great gap was visible where the vast dam-wall had been, the pool was empty, there was little more than a stream, and the roaring monster that had swept all before it could be heard gnashing, raging and destroying, far away below. CHAPTER TWENTY. FIGHTING THE DESTROYER. An awful hush of silence. It seemed as if it was too much for human brain to bear. The breath was held pent-up in every breast, so that it might have been the dwelling-place of the dumb. Then the Vicar's voice was heard, and the sound thereof was like the key that opened a closed-up door. "Where's Mr Willows?" he shouted. "Here!" came from close at hand, followed by, "And who has seen Will?" "Here--close by me," cried Manners. "Josh! Josh!" shouted Will. "Here! Here! All right!" "Then everyone is safe," cried the boy. "No, no, no!" he shouted, in anguished tones. "Where's poor old Boil O? He was there just now, standing by that corner. No, no! there is no corner--everything has gone. Oh, surely he can't be drowned!" There was no reply, but, headed by Willows, a strong party of the men followed him and the boys down the track of the mighty torrent--a clean-swept path of stone, for mill, house, sheds, cottages, the whole of the tiny village was not!