Piling began to buckle and bend before that irresistible push; the whole nicely balanced mass of metal was in danger of being unseated.  Mellen cursed the heavens in a black fury; Parker smiled through white lips; O’Neil ground his teeth and spurred his men on.

This feverish haste brought its penalty.  On the evening of the 14th, when the span was more than three-quarters finished, a lower chord section fouled as it was lifted, and two loading-beams at the top of the traveler snapped.

On that day victory had been in sight; the driving of the last bolt had been but a question of hours, a race with the sliding ice.  But with the hoisting apparatus out of use work halted.  Swiftly, desperately, without loss of a moment’s time, repairs began.  No regrets were voiced, no effort was made to place the blame, for that would have caused delay, and every minute counted.  Eleven hours later the broken beams were replaced, and erection had recommenced.

But now for those above there was danger to life and limb.  During the pause the ice had gained, and no effort could relieve the false-work of its strain.  All knew that if it gave way the workmen would be caught in a chaos of collapsing wood and steel.

From the morning of May 14th until midnight of the 16th the iron-workers clung to their tasks.  They dropped their tools and ran to their meals; they gulped their food and fled back to their posts.  The weaker ones gave out and staggered away, cursed and taunted by their companions.  They were rough fellows, and in their deep-throated profanity was a prayer.

The strong ones struggled on, blind with weariness, but upheld by that desperate, unthinking courage that animates a bayonet charge.  It seemed that every moment must see the beginning of that slow work of demolition which would send them all scurrying to safety; but hour after hour the piling continued to hold and the fingers of steel to reach out, foot by foot, for the concrete pier which was their goal.

At midnight of the 16th the last rivet was driven; but the ice had gained to such an extent that the lower chord was buckled down-stream about eight inches, and the distance was growing steadily.  Quickly the traveler was shifted to the false-work beyond the pier, and the men under Mellen’s direction fell to splitting out the blocking.

As the supports were chopped away the mass began to crush the last few wedges; there was a great snapping and rending of wood; and some one, strained to the breaking-point, shouted: 

“Look out!  There she goes!”

A cry of terror arose, the men fled, trampling one another in their panic.  But Mellen charged them like a wild man, firing curses and orders at them until they rallied.  The remaining supports were removed; the fifteen hundred tons of metal settled into place and rested securely on its foundations.