Uncle Sam was away, and so was Firm; from which, perhaps, the mischief grew.

However, the blame was all put on the river, and little more was said of it.
The following morning I went down before even Firm was out-of-doors, under some touch, perhaps, of natural desire to know things.

The stream was as pure and bright as ever, hastening down its gravel-path of fine granite just as usual, except that it had more volume and a stronger sense of freshness.

Only the bent of the grasses and the swath of the pendulous twigs down stream remained to show that there must have been some violence quite lately.
All Mr.Gundry's strengthening piles and shores were as firm as need be, and the clear blue water played around them as if they were no constraint to it.

And none but a practiced eye could see that the great wheel had been wounded, being undershot, and lifted now above the power of the current, according to the fine old plan of locking the door when the horse is gone.
When I was looking up and wondering where to find the mischief, Martin, the foreman, came out and crossed the plank, with his mouth full of breakfast.
"Show me," I said, with an air, perhaps, of very young importance, "where and what the damage is.