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The enormous size and double slope of the bank, its apparent similarity in form and thickness to those natural barriers with which nature hems in lakes of large dimensions, acted on Ransome's senses, and set him wondering at the timidity and credulity of the people in Hatfield and Damflask. This sentiment was uppermost in his mind when he rode up to the south side of the embankment.
With this hope he galloped on, and reached Poma Bridge, five miles and a half from the reservoir. Here, to his dismay, he heard the hissing thunder sound as near to him as it was when he halted on the hill above Damflask; but he could see nothing, owing to a turn in the valley. At the bridge itself he found a man standing without his hat, staring wildly up the valley.
Ransome pushed rapidly on, up hill and down dale, till he reached the high hill, at whose foot lay the hamlet of Damflask, distant two miles from Ousely Reservoir. He looked down and saw a few lights in this hamlet, some stationary, but two moving. "Hum," thought Ransome, "they don't seem to be quite so easy in their minds up here."
Four corpses and two dead horses were lying in a lake of mud about the very door of the railway station; three of them were females in absolute nudity. The fourth was a male, with one stocking on. This proved to be Hillsbro' Harry, warned in vain up at Damflask.
He galloped through Hatfield, shouting, "Save yourselves! Save yourselves!" and the people poured out, and ran for high ground, shrieking wildly; looking back, he saw the hill dotted with what he took for sheep at first, but it was the folk in their night-clothes. He galloped on to Damflask, still shouting as he went.
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