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Updated: June 9, 2025
As he put his hand to the grass-encircled goal of the maiden's hopes and ball, its gloomy depths appeared to move, swirl round, rise up, as a small green snake uncoiled in haste and darted beneath Dam's approaching upturned hand, and swiftly undulated across the lawn.
But it was just this that Zell feared, and though she repeated to herself over and over again Van Dam's last words, "I will never give you up," she feared that he would, or what would be equally painful, she would be compelled to give him up, for she could not disguise from herself that her confidence had been shaken. But sincere love is slow to believe evil of its object.
The dam's still at the mercy of the next big flood." "It's a little curious that you seem to stand it better than you did the logging," said Gordon, with a quick glance at him. Nasmyth appeared to consider this. "I do, and that's a fact. For one thing, I'm fighting for my own hand, and no doubt that counts, though, perhaps, it doesn't go quite far enough.
But the young people in the motor car turned their eyes to the west. There the face of the Minturn dam could be discerned; and even as they looked at it they seemed to see it changing dissolving, covered with mist, and spouting geysers of what at first seemed like smoke. But it was Tom who realized the truth. "She's burst!" he cried. "The old dam's burst! There she goes in a dozen places!"
Some floated to the surface and started with the flood; others stood their ground and were submerged inch by inch, the occupants climbing from story to story, from the top story to the roof, only to be swept away from their foothold sooner or later. The Dam's History. I asked a gathering of men here in what light they had been accustomed to look upon the dam.
Even now there was no woman-surrender to tears; only wide eyes agonized with apprehension while her shoulders shook as a man's may shake with inward sobs that leave the eyes dry. In a low voice she made her report. "Ther dam's finished. Without ther flood overtops ther highest mark on record, them logs is saved."
"What was that man's name?" asked the Chicago journalist with the eager instinct of his profession. "This is terrible, terrible, terrible!" a white-haired physician from Marquette kept repeating over and over. A half dozen ran towards the point of the cliff to peer down stream, as though they could hope to distinguish anything in that waste of flood water. "The dam's gone out," replied Thorpe.
She meant to be behind-hand at the reception, as a display of what she deemed good form; but a dinner was a dinner, as her husband, in the privacy of the carriage, was taught past all forgetting. Yet his fault lost its gravity before Mrs. Van Dam's welcome.
Notwithstanding this, the fierce monster did not relax her gripe, while her claws went deeper and deeper into his flesh, and the horrid cubs, coming to their dam's assistance, began to assail his legs.
To the left there was a chasm, with a winding truck-road going down to the generator buildings at the dam's foot. Soames jittered. He went two miles on and into forest, dragging the motorcycle out of sight from the road. He made himself as comfortable as possible, to avoid transmitting any information about his whereabouts. He stuffed his ears to mute the sounds of open country.
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