for many days previous to that date it had been raining hard, and great floods extended over a vast region of country in pennsylvania, new york and the district of columbia. never before had there been such a fall of rain in that region within the memory of the oldest inhabitant. the waters in the river and creeks of that beautiful valley rose rapidly and overflowed their banks, while the people looked on in wonder, but seemingly not in fear. suddenly there appeared to their wondering gaze a great bay horse galloping at break-neck speed and bearing a rider who waved his hands to them and cried: "south fork dam will burst. to the hills for your lives." only a few heeded his words of warning, while many mocked and jeered. on dashed the rider to warn still others of the impending danger, and, alas, to be himself and horse dashed to death by the massive timbers of a falling bridge. south fork dam did break, and the mighty waters of conemaugh lake were hurled with resistless force upon the doomed people of that beautiful valley. the terrible details of the appalling disaster would fill several volumes larger than this. on rushed the mighty waters, sweeping onward in their flood dwellings, churches and buildings of every description, whether of wood, brick or stone, until johnstown was reached and destroyed. the town was literally lifted from its foundations. thousands of men, women and children were caught up and swirled away in the pitiless flood, and their agonizing but vain appeals for help could be heard amidst the mighty roar of the waters. many acts of heroism were performed by brave men and women yes, and boys in rescuing victims of the flood. only one of them concerns us here. charles hepenthal, a schoolboy, seventeen years of age, who was on his way to bellefonte from his home at east liberty, pa., on the evening of the flood, stood quietly among the passengers on the express train, as they crowded to view the terrible havoc done by the flood. as the flood reached the train, at sang hollow, a small frame house came pitching down the mad tide, an eddy floated it in, near to the train, so close that the wailing cries of an infant were heard, piercing their way through the roar. charles hepenthal's heart was touched and his courage was equal to the emergency. he determined to rescue that little wailing waif from a watery grave. strong men urged him to desist, insisting that he would only sacrifice his own life for nothing that it was impossible for any one to survive in the surging waters. but the boy was resolved.