Out on the river swift work was going on.  Steam from every available boiler was carried across the ice in feed-pipes, the night shift had been roused from sleep, and every available man was busied in relieving the pressure.  Pile-drivers hammered long timbers into the river-bed above the threatened point, hydraulic jacks were put in place, and steel cables were run to drum and pulley.  The men worked sometimes knee-deep in ice-water; but they did not walk, they ran.  In an incredibly short time the preparations were completed, a strain was put upon the tackle, and when night came the massive false-work had been pulled back into line and the traveler was once more swinging steel into place.  It was a magnificent feat, yet not one of those concerned in it could feel confident that the work had not been done in vain; for the time was growing terribly short, and, although the ice seemed solid, it was rotting fast.

After the southern half of the span had been completed the warmth increased rapidly, therefore the steel crew lengthened its hours.  The men worked from seven o’clock in the morning until eleven o’clock at night.

On the 13th, without warning of any sort, Garfield Glacier began moving forward.  It had lain inactive even during the midwinter thaw which had started its smaller brother, but that warm spell had evidently had its effect upon the giant, for now he shook off his lethargy and awoke.  He stirred, gradually at first and without sound, as if bent upon surprising the interlopers; then his speed increased.  As the glacier advanced it thrust the nine-foot blanket of lake ice ahead of it, and this in turn crowded the river ice down upon the bridge.  The movement at the camp site on the first day was only two inches, but that was sufficiently serious.

The onset of Garfield at this time was, of course, unexpected; for no forward motion had ever been reported prior to the spring break-up.  The action of the ice heretofore had been alarming; but now consternation spread, a panic swept the ranks of the builders, for this was no short-lived phenomenon, this was the annual march of the glacier itself which promised to continue indefinitely.  A tremendous cutting-edge, nine feet in thickness, like the blade of a carpenter’s plane, was being driven against the bridge by an irresistible force.

Once again the endless thawing and chopping and gouging of ice began, but the more rapidly the encroaching edge was cut away the more swiftly did it bear down.  The huge mass began to rumble; it “calved,” it split, it detonated, and, having finally loosened itself from its bed, it acquired increased momentum.  As the men with chisels and steam-points became exhausted others took their places, but the structural gang clung to its perch above, augmenting the din of riveters and the groaning of blocks and tackle.  Among the able-bodied men sleep now was out of the question, for the ice gained in spite of every effort.  It was too late to remove the steel in the uncompleted span to a place of safety, for that would have required more time than to bridge the remaining gap.