Then progress ceased abruptly.  It became known that a part of the material for the third span had gone astray in its long journey across the continent.  There had been a delay at the Pittsburg mills, then a blockade in the Sierras; O’Neil was in Omar at the end of the cable straining every nerve to have the shipment rushed through.  Mellen brooded over his uncompleted work:  Parker studied the dripping hills and measured the melting snows.  He still smiled; but he showed his anxiety in a constant nervous unrest, and he could not sleep.

At length news came that Johnny Brennan had the steel aboard his ship and had sailed.  A record run was predicted, but meanwhile the south wind brought havoc on its breath.  The sun shone hotly into the valley of the Salmon, and instead of warmth it brought a chill to the hearts of those who watched and waited.

Twelve endless, idle days crawled by.  Winter no longer gave battle; she was routed, and in her mad retreat she threatened to overwhelm O’Neil’s fortunes.

On May 6th the needed bridge members were assembled, and the erection of Span Three began.  The original plan had been to build this section on the cantilever principle, so as to gain independence of the river ice, but to do so would have meant slow work and much delay—­an expenditure of time which the terms of the option made impossible.  Arrangements had been made, therefore, to lay it on false-work as the other spans had been laid, risking everything upon the weather.

As a matter of precaution the southern half of the span was connected to the completed portion; but before the connection could be fully made the remainder of the jam in front of Jackson Glacier, which had caused so much trouble heretofore, went out suddenly, and the river ice moved down-stream about a foot, carrying with it the whole intricate system of supporting timbers beneath the uncompleted span.  Hasty measurements showed that the north end of the steel then on the false-work was thirteen inches out of line.

It was Mr. Blaine who brought the tidings of this last calamity to Eliza Appleton.  From his evident anxiety she gathered that the matter was of graver consequence than she could well understand.

“Thirteen inches in fifteen hundred feet can’t amount to much,” she said, vaguely.

Blaine smiled in spite of himself.  “You don’t understand.  It’s as bad as thirteen feet, for the work can’t go on until everything is in perfect alignment.  That whole forest of piles must be straightened.”

“Impossible!” she gasped.  “Why, there are thousands of them.”

He shook his head, still smiling doubtfully.  “Nothing is impossible to Mellen and Parker.  They’ve begun clearing away the ice on the up-stream side and driving new anchor-piles above.  They’re going to fit tackle to them and yank the whole thing up-stream.  I never heard of such a thing, but there’s no time to do anything else.”  He cast a worried look at the smiling sky.  “I wonder what will happen next.  This is getting on my nerves.”