telegram was put into Hitchcock's hand.

"She ought to be pretty well used to it by this time. Only a tar. It
ought to be Ralli's answer about the new rivets. . . . Great Heavens!"
Hitchcock jumped to his feet.

"What is it?" said the senior, and took the form. "That's what Mother
Gunga thinks, is it," he said, reading. "Keep cool, young 'un. We've
got all our work cut out for us. Let's see. Muir wired half an hour ago:
'Floods on the Ramgunga. Look out.' Well, that gives us--one, two--nine
and a half for the flood to reach Melipur Ghaut and seven's sixteen and
a half to Lataoli--say fifteen hours before it comes down to us."

"Curse that hill-fed sewer of a Ramgunga! Findlayson, this is two months
before anything could have been expected, and the left bank is littered
up with stuff still. Two full months before the time!"

"That's why it comes. I've only known Indian rivers for five-and-twenty
years, and I don't pretend to understand. Here comes another tar."
Findlayson opened the telegram. "Cockran, this time, from the Ganges
Canal: 'Heavy rains here. Bad.' He might have saved the last word. Well,
we don't want to know any more. We've got to work the gangs all night
and clean up the riverbed. You'll take the east bank and work out to
meet me in the middle. Get everything that floats below the bridge: we
shall have quite enough river-craft coming down adrift anyhow, without
letting the stone-boats ram the piers. What have you got on the east
bank that needs looking after?

"Pontoon--one big pontoon with the overhead crane on it. T'other
overhead crane on the mended pontoon, with the cart-road rivets