However, the mules won through the flood. The turgid stream was not
wide and it was not a long fight. But there was the peril of mules,
wagon and man being swept out into the main stream of the flood and
carried over the dam.

"He is awful! awful!" murmured Helen, in Ruth's ear, as they clung
together and watched the miller and his outfit come through and the
mules scramble out upon solid ground.

The miller had brought his half-mad team to the mill and pulled the
mules down right beside the Cameron's automobile. Already the young
fellow who worked for him had flown out of the mill to Jabez's
assistance. He seized the frightened mules by their bits.

"How much has gone, boy?" cried Jabez, in a strained, hoarse voice.

"Not much, boss. Only a part of the office an'--"

The miller was already in at the door. In a moment, it seemed, he was
back again, having seen the damage done by the flood to his building.
But that damage was comparatively slight. It should not have caused
the old man to display such profound despair.

He wrung his hands, tore off his hat and stamped upon it on the walk,
and behaved in such a manner that it was little wonder Helen Cameron
was vastly frightened. He seemed beside himself with rage and despair.

Ruth, herself torn by conflicting emotions, could not bear to see the
old man so convulsed with what seemed to be anguish of spirit, without