Even in the gray light of early morning, and with inexperienced eyes, she saw all too clearly now.  The trestle-work had given way; the curving mile of flume, fallen into the stream, and, crushed and dammed against the opposite shore, had absolutely turned the whole river through the half-finished ditch and partly excavated mine in its way, a few rods further on to join the old familiar channel.  The bank of the river was changed; the flat had become an island, between which and the slope where she stood the North Fork was rolling its resistless yellow torrent.  As she gazed spellbound, a portion of the slope beneath her suddenly seemed to sink and crumble, and was swallowed up in the rushing stream.  She heard a cry of warning behind her, but, rooted to the spot by a fearful fascination, she heeded it not.

Again there was a sudden disruption, and another part of the slope sank to rise no more; but this time she felt herself seized by the waist and dragged back.  It was her father standing by her side.

He was flushed and excited, gazing at the water with a strange exultation.

“Do you see it?  Do you know what has happened?” he asked quickly.

“The flume has fallen and turned the river,” said Christie hurriedly.  “But—­have you seen him—­is he safe?”

“He—­who?” he answered vacantly.

“George Kearney!”

“He is safe,” he said impatiently.  “But, do you see, Christie?  Do you know what this means?”

He pointed with his tremulous hand to the stream before them.

“It means we are ruined,” said Christie coldly.

“Nothing of the kind!  It means that the river is doing the work of the flume.  It is sluicing off the gravel, deepening the ditch, and altering the slope which was the old bend of the river.  It will do in ten minutes the work that would take us a year.  If we can stop it in time, or control it, we are safe; but if we can not, it will carry away the bed and deposit with the rest, and we are ruined again.”

With a gesture of impotent fury, he dashed away in the direction of an equally excited crowd, that on a point of the slope nearer the island were gesticulating and shouting to a second group of men, who on the opposite shore were clambering on over the choked debris of the flume that had dammed and diverted the current.  It was evident that the same idea had occurred to them, and they were risking their lives in the attempt to set free the impediments.  Shocked and indignant as Christie had been at the degrading absorption of material interests at such a moment, the element of danger lifted the labors of these men into heroism, and she began to feel a strange exultation as she watched them.  Under the skilful blows of their axes, in a few moments the vast body of drift began to disintegrate, and then to swing round and move towards the old channel.  A cheer went up, but as suddenly died away again.  An overlapping fringe of wreckage had caught on the point of the island and arrested the whole mass.