Since the ice-laden wire had been at its lowest point about twenty-five feet above the surface of the snow-covered ground, the time of its fall was somewhat more than one second. Almost as the wire struck the snow, the Holladay operator was closing his hand around the telephone, and the French Bar operator was just touching the switch control. Because the Elk operator had already opened his valve, more water was flowing against his turbines and the frequency of the whole system was rising toward sixty; the Elk operator was watching the record of this rise upon the dial. The same rise was indicated by the red line in the L. D.’s office. In the near-by towns lights were growing brighter after a lapse so brief that to human eyes it had been merely a flicker. The functioning of electric clocks and automatic processes was no longer threatened.

By the time the Ringgold operator had drawn the telephone toward him and removed the receiver, the P-L system had adjusted itself to the loss of the French Bar line and had supplied the 36,000 horse-power from other sources.

The Ringgold operator got the telephone receiver to his ear, and heard a man’s voice in the middle of a vigorous conversation. The Ringgold operator spoke into the transmitter: “I need the line for operation,” and the voice stopped talking between two syllables as if someone had suddenly closed fingers around the speaker’s throat.

The L. D. was reading a letter when the telephone rang.

“Ringgold operator speaking,” said the voice. “The French Bar sixty k-v line just went out.”

“Don’t say ‘just,’” said the L. D. “When did it go?”

“Nine-two,” said the operator, abashed.

The L. D. saw that the minute hand of his electric clock was a little past nine-three. “O.K.,” he said, and called French Bar.

Meanwhile the broken wire had continued to sway and vibrate; it had set the other wires into motion; great chunks of ice were cracking off and falling. The operator at French Bar had reached the switch-control, and thrown in the switch, which had immediately tripped out again. At this indication that the break was permanent, he had telephoned Johnny Martley, the power-house superintendent, at his house a hundred yards away. Since Martley was in another room and had to be called to the phone, he got the news of the break later than the L. D. had. He had scarcely hung up when the bell rang again, and the L. D. was on the line.

“The switch went out again; so she looks bad,” he informed the L. D.

“That’s the same line that went out temporarily three days ago. Whatever it was, the storm made it worse.”

“We patrolled every inch of that line the next day—couldn’t find a thing.”