O'Neil's smile gave place to an anxious frown.
"The ice is rising, and—"
"Rising?"
"Yes. Our old enemy Jackson Glacier is causing us trouble again. That jam of broken ice in front of it is backing up the water—there's more running now, and the ice is lifting. It's lifting the false-work with it, pulling the piles out of the river-bottom like splinters out of a sore hand."
"That's pretty bad, isn't it?"
"It certainly is. It threatens to throw everything out of alignment and prevent us from laying the steel if we don't check it."
"Check it!" cried Eliza. "How can you check a thing like that?"
"Easily enough, if we can spare the hands—by cutting away the ice where it is frozen to the piles, so that it won't lift them with it. The trouble is to get men enough—you see, the ice is nine feet thick now. I've set every man to work with axes and chisels and steam-points, and I came up to telephone Slater for more help. We'll have to work fast, night and day."
"There's nobody left in Omar," Eliza said, quickly.
"I know. Tom's going to gather all he can at Cortez and Hope and rush them out here. Our task is to keep the ice cut away until help arrives."