There were sixteen saw-mills in all, and the one at which Bonnyboy was
employed was the last of the series. They were built on little terraces
on both banks of the river, and every four of them were supplied with
power from an artificial dam, in which the water was stored in time of
drought, and from which it escaped in a mill-race when required for use.
These four dams were built of big stones, earthwork, and lumber,
faced with smooth planks, over which a small quantity of water usually
drizzled into the shallow river-bed. Formerly, before the power was
utilized, this slope had been covered with seething and swirling
rapids--a favorite resort of the salmon, which leaped high in the
spring, and were caught in the box-traps that hung on long beams over
the water. Now the salmon had small chance of shedding their spawn in
the cool, bright mountain pools, for they could not leap the dams, and
if by chance one got into the mill-race, it had a hopeless struggle
against a current that would have carried an elephant off his feet.
Bonnyboy, who more than once had seen the beautiful silvery fish spring
right on to the millwheel, and be flung upon the rocks, had wished that
he had understood the language of the fishes, so that he might tell them
how foolish such proceedings were. But merciful though he was, he had
been much discouraged when, after having put them back into the river,
they had promptly repeated the experiment.
There were about twenty-five or thirty men employed at the mill where
Bonnyboy earned his bread in the sweat of his brow, and he was, on the
whole, on good terms with all of them. They did, to be sure, make fun of
him occasionally; but sometimes he failed to understand it, and at other
times he made clumsy but good-humored attempts to repay their gibes
in kind. They took good care, however, not to rouse his wrath, for the
reputation he had acquired by his treatment of Ola Klemmerud made them
afraid to risk a collision.
This was the situation when the great floods of 188- came, and
introduced a spice of danger into Bonnyboy’s monotonous life. The
mill-races were now kept open night and day, and yet the water burst
like a roaring cascade over the tops of dams, and the river-bed was
filled to overflowing with a swiftly-hurrying tawny torrent, which
filled the air with its rush and swash, and sent hissing showers of
spray flying through the tree-tops. Bonnyboy and a gang of twenty men
were working as they had never worked before in their lives, under the
direction of an engineer, who had been summoned by the mill-owner to
strengthen the dams; for if but one of them burst, the whole tremendous
volume of water would be precipitated upon the valley, and the village
by the lower falls and every farm within half a mile of the river-banks
would be swept out of existence. Guards were stationed all the way up
the river to intercept any stray lumber that might be afloat. For if
a log jam were added to the terrific strain of the flood, there would
surely be no salvation possible. Yet in spite of all precautions, big
logs now and then came bumping against the dams, and shot with wild
gyrations and somersaults down into the brown eddies below.
The engineer, who was standing on the top of a log pile, had shouted
until he was hoarse, and gesticulated with his cane until his arms were
lame, but yet there was a great deal to do before he could go to bed
with an easy conscience. Bonnyboy and his comrades, who had had by far
the harder part of the task, were ready to drop with fatigue. It was
now eight o’clock in the evening, and they had worked since six in the
morning, and had scarcely had time to swallow their scant rations. Some
of them began to grumble, and the engineer had to coax and threaten them
to induce them to persevere for another hour. The moon was just rising
behind the mountain ridges, and the beautiful valley lay, with its green
fields, sprouting forests, and red-painted farm-houses, at Bonnyboy’s
feet. It was terrible to think that perhaps destruction was to overtake
those happy and peaceful homes, where men had lived and died for many
hundred years. Bonnyboy could scarcely keep back the tears when this
fear suddenly came over him. Was it not strange that, though they knew
that danger was threatening, they made not the slightest effort to save
themselves? In the village below men were still working in their
forges, whose chimneys belched forth fiery smoke, and the sound of their
hammer-blows could be heard above the roar of the river. Women were
busy with their household tasks; some boys were playing in the streets,
damming up the gutters and shrieking with joy when their dams broke. A
few provident souls had driven their cattle to the neighboring hills;
but neither themselves nor their children had they thought it necessary
to remove. The fact was, nobody believed that the dams would break, as
they had not imagination enough to foresee what would happen if the dams
did break.
Bonnyboy was wet to the skin, and his knees were a trifle shaky from
exhaustion. He had been cutting down an enormous mast-tree, which was
needed for a prop to the dam, and had hauled it down with two horses,
one of which was a half-broken gray colt, unused to pulling in a team.
To restrain this frisky animal had required all Bonnyboy’s strength,
and he stood wiping his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. Just at that
moment a terrified yell sounded from above: “Run for your lives! The
upper dam is breaking!”
The engineer from the top of the log-pile cast a swift glance up the
valley, and saw at once from the increasing volume of water that the
report was true.
“Save yourselves, lads!” he screamed. “Run to the woods!”
And suiting his action to his words, he tumbled down from the log pile,
and darted up the hill-side toward the forest. The other men, hearing
the wild rush and roar above them, lost no time in following his
example. Only Bonnyboy, slow of comprehension as always, did not obey.
Suddenly there flared up a wild resolution in his face. He pulled out
his knife, cut the traces, and leaped upon the colt’s back. Lashing
the beast, and shouting at the top of his voice, he dashed down the
hill-side at a break-neck pace.
“The dam is breaking!” he roared. “Run for the woods!”
He glanced anxiously behind him to see if the flood was overtaking him.
A great cloud of spray was rising against the sky, and he heard the
yells of men and the frenzied neighing of horses through the thunderous
roar. But happily there was time. The dam was giving way gradually,
and had not yet let loose the tremendous volume of death and desolation
which it held enclosed within its frail timbers. The colt, catching the
spirit of excitement in the air, flew like the wind, leaving farm after
farm behind it, until it reached the village.
“The dam is breaking! Run for your lives!” cried Bonnyboy, with a
rousing clarion yell which rose above all other poises; and up and down
the valley the dread tidings spread like wildfire. In an instant all was
in wildest commotion. Terrified mothers, with babes in their arms, came
bursting out of the houses, and little girls, hugging kittens or
cages with canary-birds, clung weeping to their skirts; shouting men,
shrieking women, crying children, barking dogs, gusty showers sweeping
from nowhere down upon the distracted fugitives, and above all the
ominous, throbbing, pulsating roar as of a mighty chorus of cataracts.
It came nearer and nearer. It filled the great vault of the sky with a
rush as of colossal wing-beats. Then there came a deafening creaking
and crashing; then a huge brownish-white rolling wall, upon which the
moonlight gleamed for an instant, and then the very trump of doom--a
writhing, brawling, weltering chaos of cattle, dogs, men, lumber,
houses, barns, whirling and struggling upon the destroying flood.