“Score one,” cried Ralph as he prepared another bomb.
Tim nodded grimly. The explosion had been spectacular but he wondered how much it had weakened the jam.
Ralph dropped two more parachute flares and before their light had faded they had time to plant four bombs. More flares and more bombs. They honeycombed the face of the jam with the high-explosive missiles and above the sound of their own plane they could hear the angry grumble of the river as the restless water, impounded by the ice barrier, sought to continue its journey down stream.
They had one flare and two bombs left and they had failed to break the jam.
Tim motioned for Ralph to light one of the two remaining flares and in the calcium glare he made a final survey of the river. His arm moved quickly and Ralph tossed out the last of the bombs.
They watched the little black objects speed toward the ice; then saw them swallowed in mounting sprays of ice and water.
Tim could hear Ralph’s shout of victory above the sound of their own motor and the rumble of the river as the waters, the ice barrier finally broken, started down stream.
The river was a heaving, moving mass of ice. Great cakes leaped high into the air and came down with thundering crashes as the pressure of the water was unleashed.
Tim watched the breaking of the jam with apprehension. There was just a chance that the river might rush over its banks and sweep away the village but if he had calculated right the force of the onrushing water would be expended on the far side of the valley.
The light from the fires on the edge of the river reflected dully on the scene and was not sufficient to show them what was taking place. After five minutes of anxious cruising, Tim yelled to Ralph to light the last of their flares.