"So I hear. I'll take care of my flour and my folk. The mill will take care of itself." And he pointed with pride to the solid structure and granite pillars.

Ransome galloped on, shouting as he went.

The shout was taken up ahead, and he heard a voice crying in the night, "IT'S COMING! IT'S COMING!" This weird cry, which, perhaps, his own galloping and shouting had excited, seemed like an independent warning, and thrilled him to the bone. 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.

At the edge of the hamlet, he found a cottage with no light in it; he dismounted and thundered at the door: "Escape for your lives! for your lives!"

A man called Hillsbro' Harry opened the window.

"The embankrncnt is going. Fly for your lives!"

"Nay," said the man, coolly, "Ouseley dam will brust noane this week," and turned to go to bed again.