"I am having the books and papers, the plans and drawings, carried to a place of security, for there is danger of an avalanche from the Wolkenstein; we have had one or two warnings."
"That too!" the president muttered, in despair; then, turning suddenly, as a thought struck him, "Good God! you do not think the bridge----?"
"No," said Wolfgang, drawing a deep breath. "The enclosed forest protects the abyss, and the bridge with it; no avalanche can break that down. I foresaw and provided for this danger when I planned it."
"It would be fearful," Nordheim groaned. "Tho injury even now is incalculable. Should the bridge go all is lost!"
The frown on Elmhorst's brow deepened at this outburst of despair.
"Control yourself!" he said, in a low tone, but with emphasis. "We are observed; every one is looking at us. We must set an example of courage and hope, or the people will lose heart."
"Hope!" the president repeated, catching at the word as a drowning man clutches a straw. "Have you really any hope?"
"No; but I shall fight to the last."
Nordheim looked the speaker in the face. His pale, stern features gave no hint of the tempest raging within, and yet for him everything was at stake. After the fading of his dreams of wealth and power, his work was all that was left to him upon which to build a future if he lived, and to be at least his enduring monument if he should fall by Waltenberg's hand. It was now imperilled. And yet he stood erect and struggled on, while the president was the image of impotent despair. What did he care if others observed his hopelessness? What was it to him that an example of courage was expected from a man in his position? He thought only of the gigantic losses which the catastrophe would cause him,--losses which might ruin him.
"I must return to my post," said Wolfgang. "If you stay, choose carefully the spot where you stand. Stones and earth are continually sliding down: we have had several accidents already."