The Keeper of the Bridge, Chapter 8

⁠​​​‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​​​‌‌‌‌‌‌⁠For two days in the South American city Lovat now raged like a madman, now was limp and gray as if all life had left. The storm crashed like artillery. The wind swirled in terrific outshoots of uncontrolled power. Rain whorled like a water-burst. And all the time there ran through Lovat's head the unending, pounding rhythm: "The bridge! The bridge is down! Is down! The bridge! The bridge is down!"