In a flash Towton comprehended and set spurs to his horse. Frances strove to fly, but Maunders with a last effort caught at her foot and she fell heavily, fighting for freedom like a wild cat. The next moment he had her by the throat. And in the distance a mighty roaring struck the ears of all as the flood came down gigantically.
[CHAPTER XXII.]
THE END OF IT ALL.
Towton could not quite understand the situation, as there was no time to consider matters. All he knew was that the Bolly Dam had burst, and even had Miss Jewin not spoken, the appalling noise would have informed him of the catastrophe. With Ida in his arms he spurred his horse frantically out of the gate and across the village bridge. He found the crooked street filled with people, called out by the unexpected thunder.
"The dam's burst: get on the high ground," shouted Towton, and with a yell of fear men, women, and children began to run wildly in the direction of the gorge and to disappear amongst the houses in the hope of gaining some level beyond the height of the down-coming flood. But there was scanty time for safety. The hollow booming sound of the waters plunging through the narrows sounded ever nearer and nearer with terrible distinctness: it seemed as though the waters were bellowing for their prey. In a moment the Colonel comprehended that it was too late to skirt the village and gain the winding road, where they would be safe. Ida gave a cry of alarm as he wrenched round the now startled horse and clattered through the village street on his way down the valley. It seemed the only chance.
"I'll save you yet, my darling," muttered Towton, setting his teeth. "We must make for Gatehead," and he drove his spurs into the animal, which now was becoming unmanageable with the roaring of the flood. Ida, almost insensible with terror, clung to her lover's neck, and the horse, making no more of the double burden than if it had been a feather, tore at top speed along the road between the torrent and the precipice. There was no safety on either side, as the precipice could not be climbed, and the dry bed of the stream merely offered a deeper grave. Fortunately, the road sloped gradually to the mouth of the valley, some two miles away, therefore the downward trend offered extra means to escape the pursuing greedy waters. A backward glance showed Towton that a tremendous flood was shooting out of the bottle-mouth of the upper gorge with terrific rapidity. The whole of the huge lake, artificial as well as natural, was emptying itself in one vast outpour, and owing to the narrowness of the valley the concentrated force was gigantic. If the flood caught them they would either be dashed to pieces against the rocks or would be borne onward--horse and maid and man--to be expelled at Gatehead, as if fired from the mouth of a cannon.
"Oh, God, save us! Oh, God, save us!" was all that Ida could moan.
"He will; He will," cried Towton, riding under spur and whip with a mad joy in the adventure, perilous as it was. "He will save the innocent and punish the guilty. Never fear, never fear, my darling."
On roared the enormous body of water, curling like a mighty wave crested with foam and glistening like a colossal jewel in the serene sunshine. It passed with a hoarse triumphant screaming over the fated village, and in a single moment Bowderstyke was not. Bearing _débris_ and bodies of cattle and men, women and children on its breast, the water rolled majestically on its destroying way. Like a wall of steel it stood up, stretching from wall to wall of the valley, and before it tore the terrified horse, warned by its instinct of rapidly approaching danger.
"We are lost! we are lost!" screamed Ida, hiding her face on Towton's shoulder. "We can never escape. It's a mile further."