He and I clambered down the bank and hurried to them. They’d formed a long line and were passing sandbags along it as fast as they could, but the wall they’d got built seemed pitifully small. Not long enough. Only two bags high.

“Can’t they do just one more tier?” I asked. “And extend it out some?”

Mr. Caldwell answered, “I’d like them to, but the way the rain’s pouring down, I’m afraid to chance it. Even a little bit more pressure might prove too much for that spillway. You want to call them?”

No, I didn’t want to. I wanted them to keep laying sandbags.

But they were my guys. They trusted me to take care of them.

Making a megaphone with my hands, I shouted, “Mr. Caldwell says that’s it. Let’s go!”

He made us all retreat to the road above the reservoir. “I know you want to see,” he said, “but I’m not positive what will happen when we break further into that bank. I don’t want anybody swept away.”

“Who’s going to breach it?” Apple asked.

“Mr. Caldwell and me,” Scotty said.

“But that’s not right,” Apple and I said, at exactly the same time.

“Look,” I argued, “if there’s scrambling to be done, we’re . . . that is, you’re . . .”

“What Moss is trying to say,” Sam said, “is that it’s a job for guys who can move fast.”

Maybe we’d have kept arguing, except, impossible as it seemed, the rain picked up even harder.

“All right,” Mr. Caldwell said. “All right. We can’t waste time talking. Moss, you know the boys. Pick somebody.”

He made Apple and me tie ropes securely around our waists, and he made sure the other ends were held tight by whole gangs of guys.

“Now go easy,” he told us. “All you’ve got to do is get a start. Once the water sees it’s free, it’s going to make a run through that bank like you’re not going to believe.”

“I won’t say I’m not scared,” I told Apple, as we got ourselves into position, down in the gap.

“I know I am,” he answered. “You got a good footing?”

“Yeah.” I looked behind, to the rest of the guys. “And they’ve got our safety lines taut. Let’s do it.”

I swung the pick and he shoveled out mud and flung it away. Down and down we picked and shoveled, till a rivulet of water crossed in front of my foot, different from the way the rain was muddling.

“Up!” I yelled. We leaped for the bank, and once on it I leaned down and scratched my pick along the rivulet. A course of water followed, and then a whole chunk of earth broke free, and then all creation broke loose.

Or that’s how it seemed.