The bank of the river was changed; the flat had become an island, between which and the slope where she stood the North Fork was rolling its resistless yellow torrent.

As she gazed spellbound, a portion of the slope beneath her suddenly seemed to sink and crumble, and was swallowed up in the rushing stream.

She heard a cry of warning behind her, but, rooted to the spot by a fearful fascination, she heeded it not.
Again there was a sudden disruption, and another part of the slope sank to rise no more; but this time she felt herself seized by the waist and dragged back.

It was her father standing by her side.
He was flushed and excited, gazing at the water with a strange exultation.
"Do you see it?
Do you know what has happened ?" he asked quickly.
"The flume has fallen and turned the river," said Christie hurriedly.
"But--have you seen him--is he safe ?" "He--who ?" he answered vacantly.
"George Kearney!" "He is safe," he said impatiently.

"But, do you see, Christie?
Do you know what this means ?" He pointed with his tremulous hand to the stream before them.
"It means we are ruined," said Christie coldly.
"Nothing of the kind! It means that the river is doing the work of the flume.