But whether I saw it, or whether I knew it by any more summary process, such as outruns the eyes sometimes, is more than I dare presume to say.

Whichever way I learned it, it was thus: A solid mass of water, much bigger than the mill itself, burst on it, dashed it to atoms, leaped off with it, and spun away the great wheel anyhow, like the hoop of a child sent trundling.

I heard no scream or shriek; and, indeed, the bellow of a lion would have been a mere whisper in the wild roar of the elements.

Only, where the mill had been, there was nothing except a black streak and a boil in the deluge.

Then scores of torn-up trees swept over, as a bush-harrow jumps on the clods of the field; and the unrelenting flood cast its wrath, and shone quietly in the lightning.
"Oh, Uncle Sam! Uncle Sam!" I cried.