there was no time to waste in mourning over the fate of the two outlaws. scott’s first duty was to the unsuspecting ranchers in the path of the coming flood. the waves were already washing over the top of the dam and the old sluice gates were groaning under the strain. the storm still raged in unabated fury. everywhere there was running water. it was coming down the face of the rocky slopes in sheets and all the ca?ons were filled with boiling torrents. the roar of it sounded like a mighty accompaniment to the booming of the thunder.

before the echoes of the pistol shots had been swallowed up in the other noises of the storm scott sprang for the windlass, but he was too late. jed clark was dead but he had accomplished his crazy purpose. with a crash and rending of heavy timbers the sluice gates went out on the crest of the flood and carried a small portion of the dam with them. the whole structure trembled from end to end. scott felt the mason work crumbling under his feet and the swirling waters grasping at his ankles. he scrambled desperately out of its clutches and rushed to the place where he had left jed. he was gone, but a frightened snort from higher up the steep side of the ca?on led him to where the terrified horse had climbed to the base of the perpendicular wall of rock and stood trembling, too frightened to move.

the one chance now was to beat out the flood. to reach the ranchers in the valley below before the wall of water which would come when the dam went out, and that could be only the matter of minutes now. it was a desperate chance, for the trail was steep and rough, and the rush of the waters would make it almost impassable in places.

scott flung himself onto jed’s trembling back and turned him down the ca?on trail. another crash in the direction of the dam sent him plunging ahead, and once started a mad fright took possession of him. he ran like a fiend. scott had learned much about riding since he had cleared the corral fence clinging to jed’s neck, but it required all his skill to stay in the saddle now. he had to close his eyes to protect them from the twigs which slashed his face, and once a jagged point of rock grazed his knee and almost threw him from the horse’s back.

“it’s up to you, jed, old boy,” scott whispered in the horse’s ear, “i can’t help you any now.”

the roar of the torrent was always with him. now the trail dipped down to its very edge, into it once; now it climbed high on the side of the ca?on and skirted a narrow ledge at the edge of a wall of rock. the hollow booming of the waters hinted of sickening depths within easy reach of a misplaced foot. it seemed marvelous to scott that jed could run at that breakneck speed on such rugged ground, but the horse had been born in the mountains, had raced over them all his life, and he never stumbled.

he was gaining on the flood. already he had passed the crest of the wave from the shattered sluice gates. there was water in the stream, plenty of it, from the drainage below the dam, but it was not the raging torrent which it had been higher up. the storm was lessening now. a star or two were peeping through the rifts in the black clouds and the profiles of the mountains were beginning to loom in darker shadows. scott recognized the ridge ahead where the lookout station was located. he had to turn to the left there and follow the valley instead of going up over the pass the way he had come. from there on the country was wholly new to him and he would have to trust entirely to jed. he wondered whether he ought to try to stop at the station and get benny to telephone the news.

a dull roar like the rumble of distant thunder shook the mountain and scott knew that the dam had given way. there was no time to lose now. the rush of water from the sluice gates would be like a dribble compared with the mighty avalanche of water which would roar down the valley now. moreover, jed was not yet under control and he would do well if he could hold him in the valley trail, to say nothing of stopping at benny’s.

he began to talk soothingly to jed and tried to steady him a little. as he approached the turn in the valley he made out a figure standing on the opposite edge of the stream. he recognized benny and tried to stop, but jed was not yet ready to listen to reason. scott succeeded in turning him, probably because he did not want to cross the stream, but he could not stop him. he had no control over him at all.

“the dam is gone. telephone,” he shouted at the top of his voice as he rushed past. either benny did not understand or could do nothing for he stood there quietly on the edge of the stream and listened to the roar of the ca?on.

the ground was more even here in the wider valley, and much easier going for the horse. he had already covered five miles at that terrific pace, and although it did not seem to be telling on his splendid physique it seemed impossible for any animal to keep that up for the remaining fifteen miles to the valley. scott began to talk to him once more. it was the only influence to which the big horse had ever seemed susceptible. there was no longer the roar of the water in the ca?on to frighten him. there were not the same deafening thunder crashes with their weird reverberations, the rending of the gates was fading from his memory. gradually scott could feel the straining effort lessening. he was still making splendid time, but he was running more smoothly and he turned back his ear to listen when scott talked to him.

four miles of that smooth running in the upper valley and then down the steep trail to the main valley in which the town was located. the trail came out to the plain near the home of the last rancher whom scott had gone to see about the free use permits. it was here that the strange procession had ended that day. as jed shot out of the ca?on into the open a man’s form darkened the lighted doorway. evidently he had heard the clatter of the rapidly approaching hoofs on the rocky trail.

scott slowed down and shouted, “the dam has burst. you better beat it. telephone the others.”

he loosened the rein and jed sped on. the figure disappeared instantly and looking back over his shoulder scott could see the lights bobbing about the house. it was a warning of disaster to those people and they did not hesitate. it meant the destruction of their homes and all of their possessions which they could not move to the higher ground along the base of the valley cliffs.

at each of the other houses he had to stop and shout to get the people out. they had had no warning. the whole telephone system had been disabled by the storm. the message delivered, there was no delay, no stopping to get an explanation. the men sprang silently back to the houses and wasted none of the precious moments which were left them. they had been living in dread of just this thing for years and now it had come. they had been fearing it too long to be in any doubt as to what to do now.

all along behind scott men were fleeing from their homes as from a pestilence with their families and most valuable possessions in wagons and driving their stock before them. there was many a backward glance at the homes which would probably be ruined when they saw them again.

after each stop scott watched jed anxiously to see if he was in distress but each time the noble animal took up his task willingly and was soon back in his swinging run which sent the miles flying behind him.

there was nothing ahead of him now but the town only two miles away, and jed was pounding over the level plain with hoof beats as regular as the ticking of a watch. the town was all aglow with lights and the people were busy with their everyday affairs, ignorant of the impending danger.

scott shouted his warning to every man he saw as he galloped up the main street and left a trail of confusion behind him. by the time he reached the hotel the news was ahead of him. the supervisor ran out of the hotel to meet him. a cowboy on a fresh horse galloped away with the warning for the people below the town.

scott threw himself from the saddle without counting on the effect of the long, hard ride. his knees doubled under him like the blades of a jackknife and sent him sprawling in the street. a dozen eager hands helped him to his feet. he wriggled from them and staggered over to examine jed. the big black was tired and showed it. his long barrel was heaving like a pair of bellows and his nostrils were distended to big red circles, but he was holding his head well up and he had his legs well under him. scott threw his arms around the horse’s neck and hugged him there before them all.

“where did you come from?” mr. ramsey asked.

“clear from the dam,” scott said proudly, “and he ran every step of the way.”

“didn’t run down that ca?on trail from the dam, did he?” one of the men grinned.

“you bet he did,” scott said. “he was running away with me then; i did not get control of him till we passed the lookout station.”

it was perfectly natural in this country of horsemen that the first interest should have been in the performance of the horse. there was no actual danger there at the town. the valley was so wide and level at this point and it was so far from the ca?on that at the very worst there would be only a few inches of water in the streets and a few flooded cellars. the storekeepers were busy getting their supplies from the cellars and off the main floors on to the shelves, but they had all the help they could use and there were plenty of people left over with nothing to do but watch and wait and talk.

mr. ramsey and scott took jed around to mcgoorty’s stable and gave him the best rub down that a horse ever had.

“when did the dam go out?” mr. ramsey asked.

“i don’t know what time it was,” scott said, “but it was just before i turned the corner below the lookout station.”

“did you see all the settlers?”

“yes, every one from bronson’s to town and they did not lose any time in getting started.”

“how did it happen?” mr. ramsey asked quietly.

scott discovered a note of censure in his voice and knew that he was expected to give an account of himself.

“it’s a long story,” he replied thoughtfully. “dawson, jed clark, dugan, myself and the worst thunder storm i have ever seen were all more or less responsible, i think.”

at the mention of those names, mr. ramsey gave a start. “i wonder how those men found out you were up there?”

“your clerk, benson, told them.”

“how do you know that?” the supervisor asked sharply.

“i heard dawson ask him over the telephone and he answered that he had tried to get the information to him for some time but could not locate him.”

the hard steely look came suddenly into the supervisor’s eyes. “that accounts for the way that a lot of information has been leaking out of my office,” he remarked coldly.

“by the way,” scott said, “dawson is lying up in that little cabin at the dam with a broken jaw. he is in pretty bad shape and some one ought to go after him.”

“i don’t suppose you know how he was hurt?” mr. ramsey asked with a quizzical look.

“yes,” scott grinned, “i think that i can explain it. perhaps i had better begin at the beginning and tell you the whole story,” he added.

mr. ramsey was very anxious to get the story, but he saw that scott was so tired that he could scarcely keep his eyes open. “better go to bed now. we’ll go over the whole thing in the morning and take a party up to rescue dawson.”

they had been talking in the stable. “is jed safe here?” he asked anxiously.

“yes,” the supervisor replied, “he’s perfectly safe. the town is in no danger. there may be an inch or two of water in the streets in the morning and it may not get here at all. this ground soaks up a tremendous amount of water and the valley is so wide that it cannot amount to much. i am afraid that it will wipe out some of those small ranchers above here.”

scott avoided the curious ones in the hotel lobby who were anxious to hear his story and was soon asleep dreaming of rushing waters and a runaway horse.