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CHAPTER XXI.
AT THE IRRIGATION DAM

Bright and early, before the last stars had faded, in fact, Jack Merrill and Pete eagerly roused Jim Hicks for the trip to the water company's dam. Both of them hated the idea of losing a minute on this important errand. Once awakened, Jim Hicks proved a nimble person, and breakfast was soon dispatched, his animals packed and saddled, and Maud made ready. No time was lost in hitting the trail when these preparations had been concluded. Jim Hicks was a born trailer, and led the two travelers over the ragged ways of the rough mountains in a skillful manner that excited even Coyote Pete's admiration.

At noon they ate a hasty meal and then pressed on. Jim Hicks promised to land them at the dam at about dusk. Controlling their impatience as best they could, Jack Merrill and Coyote Pete rode obediently after the prospector. One change had been made in the cavalcade since noon. One of the packs had been transferred to Maud, while another pack had been taken off one of the other ponies and had been distributed between two of his brethren. This left two ponies for Coyote Pete and his young companion to ride.

After this change they pressed on far more quickly, and shortly before sundown their guide halted on the top of a ridge and pointed downward.

Far below them they could see an immense silvery sheet of water – a small lake, in fact. Its surface shimmered in the dying light, and, at another time the two travelers would have admired the sight of the mirror-like sheet of water in its natural frame of rock and ragged timber. Now, however, their thoughts were riveted on the idea of getting to the 'phone, and, by the tiny filament of wire, summoning powerful aid for their beleaguered companions.

"Purty, ain't it?" asked Jim Hicks softly.

"Shouldn't have imagined they'd ever have got such a lot of water together out here," grunted Coyote Pete. "Where's it all come from?"

"Partly from damming up the creek, and partly from the water that pours off the higher ridges when the snow melts in the spring. We're purty high up here, you know."

"Well, that's a pretty good showing for a country where the rainfall isn't more than four inches a year," commented Coyote Pete.

"Not that, sometimes," put in Jim Hicks, "and, by the same token, if this wasn't summer I should say we were in for some rain now."

He looked overhead, and Jack noticed that the sky, which had been cloudless not very long before, was now black and overcast. A heavy element was in the air, too – an oppressive sort of feeling.

"Come on, let's be getting down the slope," said Coyote Pete suddenly, and once more they moved onward. As they threaded their way down the narrow trail, Jack's mind reverted to the destroyed bridge.

"How far should you imagine that bridge was below here?" he asked.

"You mean where the bridge was, I reckon," grinned Jim Hicks, who had heard the story of the Mexican's trick, from Jack and his companion. "Well, I should judge about five miles from here."

"Then we are on the Mexican side of the canal cañon?"

"Yep; but we'll soon be on American soil, sonny, don't forget that."

"Not likely to," rejoined Jack fervently.

After half an hour's riding, the great water-works came into full view. There was a massive, containing-wall of cement, with a pathway along the top, and in the center the trailers could see the machinery used for opening and closing the sluice pipes that fed the irrigation canal. Word was telephoned from the land company's offices in Maguez to the dam-keeper regarding the pressure to be used, and, in accordance with their instructions, he turned on more or less.

At the near side of the dam was a small building in which the dam-keeper made his home. From its roof there extended a pole, from which, to Jack's intense delight, they could see a thin wire stretching off to the north. On that wire now depended so much that Jack almost felt like taking his hat off to it and to the inventor of telephones.

"Geddap!" urged Jim Hicks, cracking his quirt about the haunches of his pack animals. The little cavalcade broke into a brisk trot. The dust spurted from under their rattling hoofs.

"We're coming on in style," laughed Jack, as they came briskly down the last few rods of the trail.

"Don't see old Simmons about," commented Jim Hicks, looking for some sign of the dam-keeper. "Guess he's taking a snooze some place. Hey, Sam! Sam!"

"Here he comes," said Jack briskly, as the door of the dam-tender's hut opened. But the next moment every member of the approaching party gave a gasp of dismay. Jim Hicks spasmodically jerked up his rifle to his shoulder, but instantly lowered it again.

From the door of the hut there had stepped out, not old Sam Simmons, the dam-tender, but – Black Ramon and six of his men!

They held their weapons grimly leveled at Jack Merrill and his companion, while Ramon sharply bade them dismount.

"We have prepared for you what we must call a little surprise party," he said. "Please tie your horses and we will go inside."

Resistance was useless, and they obeyed.

To understand how this came about, we must revert for a moment to events which had been taking place at the old Mission and at the Rancho Agua Caliente while we have been following the young adventurers and their companions. We left Mr. Merrill and his cow-punchers riding back toward the ranch with heavy hearts, bearing with them the wounded Mexican, from whom they hoped to gain some information concerning Black Ramon's whereabouts.

On the arrival of the disconsolate party at the ranch house, Mr. Merrill had at once sent out a call to his neighbors, and they came riding in from miles around to a consultation. All agreed that it would be a grave invasion of international law to send an armed party over the border, but it was agreed that, providing the Mexican recovered it would be legitimate to surround Black Ramon's rendezvous – that is, if the prisoner revealed it – and demand the surrender of the prisoners. The Mexican authorities would then be informed and, if possible, Black Ramon given over to justice.

This course would have been followed at once but for two reasons. Mr. Merrill and his brother ranchers felt that to act prematurely might ruin everything, and the wounded Mexican obstinately refused to get better. Still another obstacle, was the great chasm left by the blowing up of the bridge. It would be impossible to pass this. Just when this difficulty seemed in its most serious phase, an old rancher spoke up and volunteered to guide the party by a secret trail he knew of, which led over the mountains and across the border.

As he spoke, the wounded Mexican, who for better attention and observation had been laid on a cot in the living room of the ranch house, stirred uneasily.

"Hullo, he's coming to," exclaimed Mr. Merrill bending over him, but the man's eyes remained closed, and he seemed, to all intents and purposes, as badly off as he had been before. For two days he remained thus, and the ranchers carried on their consultations freely before him, little dreaming what a hornets' nest they were preparing to bring down about their own heads. On the morning of the third day, when Mr. Merrill awakened he was astonished to find that the Mexican's cot was empty. The man was gone! A search showed that he was not about the place, and a further investigation revealed the fact that one of the best horses on the ranch was missing.

The wounded Mexican had been "playing possum" just as a wounded animal will sometimes do, awaiting but the slightest relaxation of vigilance to be up and off.

The consternation this caused may be imagined. If the man understood English, and there seemed little room to doubt that he did – otherwise he would have had no object in deceiving them as to his real condition – the ranchers' plans must by this time be known to Black Ramon. Mr. Merrill was in despair for a time, but finally, as a last recourse, and even at the risk of upsetting everything, he decided to call up Los Hominos, a considerable town in Chihuahua province, and request that soldiers be sent in pursuit of Black Ramon.

None knew better than Mr. Merrill the danger he thus incurred of having his plans doubly revealed to the chief of the cattle rustlers. The country posts of the Mexican army are largely recruited from men in sympathy with the lawless element – especially if that lawless element confines itself to preying on Americanos. There was, therefore, a grave risk that some traitor in the ranks might convey the news of Mr. Merrill's request to Black Ramon. That it was no time for doubts or hesitation, however, every rancher felt, and on the top of Mr. Merrill's message preparations were at once made for a start across the border by the ranchers themselves.

In the meantime, the captured Mexican, whose wound, though severe, still allowed him to ride, was spurring on his way across the Hachetas to Black Ramon's headquarters in the old Mission. It has been said that the greatest blackguards have sometimes the most faithful followers, and this seemed to be the case with the Mexican miscreant, for his underling, despite the pain of his wound and his weakened condition, did not hesitate an instant over taking a ride which might have caused even a slightly wounded man to pause and reflect on the undertaking.

Thus it had come about, that, at the same time that Jack Merrill and Coyote Pete, escorted by the eccentric prospector, were setting out to get in communication with civilization, Black Ramon and six of his most trusted followers had started for the land company's dam, with what a heinous purpose in view we shall presently see. The Mexican was in the blackest of moods. He had hardly returned from his vain chase after Jack Merrill and the cow-puncher before word had been brought to him that his other prisoners had escaped.

The Mexican was almost beside himself with rage as he heard this, and, in addition, news had been brought to him that Mr. Merrill had requisitioned that a band of soldiers be sent in search of him. Armed also with the wounded man's story of the pursuit of the ranchers by means of the secret trail, Ramon was indeed almost desperate when he set out with the intention of accomplishing the deed he had in mind. He felt he would render his name hateful to Americans and glorious to border Mexicans forever, and was all the more anxious to achieve it for that reason.

His astonishment, therefore, when he heard Coyote Pete's hail and emerged from the dam-tender's hut to find his escaped prisoners walking right into his net again, was only equalled by his delight. As his followers bound each of the three hand and foot, after roughly dragging them from their ponies, Black Ramon rubbed his hands gleefully.

"You are going to see a sight before long that you will remember all your days," he said, as the Americans, scornfully disdaining to utter a word, were carried into the hut.

"What, you do not answer?"

"No, you yellow dog," grunted Jim Hicks disdainfully, "I'm mighty particular who I talk to."

Beside himself with fury at the American's calm contempt, the Mexican opened his palm and struck the bound and helpless miner a blow across the face. Jim Hicks' ruddy, bronzed countenance went white as dead ashes.

"You'll be sorry for that, you greaser, some day," he said in a quiet, controlled tone, which to those who knew him signified trouble.

"Some day, yes!" laughed Ramon; "but I shall be far away some day, amigo, but before I go I am going to give you Americanos a lesson you will never forget. The father of this boy here, and twelve other rancheros, are riding through the American foothills now to your rescue. But they will never reach the mountains. Why? – Ah, you will soon see."

As they were carried into the hut and thrown roughly on the floor, Jim Hicks' eyes espied poor Sam Simmons, the tender of the dam. The employee of the water company was also bound hand and foot, and seemed to have been beaten into submission by the brutal Mexicans. He gave a slight groan as he saw the plight of the new-comers, but made no other sign.

"He resisted us," laughed Black Ramon harshly, "see what happened to him. It is a good thing you gave in without making trouble."

As he spoke, there came a long, low grumble that shook the earth and made the furniture in the hut rattle. It was the near approach of the storm the captives had noticed impending. At the same instant, there came a dazzling flash of lambent lightning. It illumined the cruel faces about them as if a flickering calcium had been thrown upon them.

The advancing storm seemed to have a strange effect on Sam Simmons; he stirred in his thongs and a pitiful expression came over his bruised face.

"The storm! the storm!" he cried. "Hark! it is coming. Let me out to tend the gates."

"Not likely," sneered Black Ramon, turning from him contemptuously.

"But the sluices must be opened. The rain is coming!" cried the old man, seemingly galvanized into life by the call of duty. "Let me loose, I say."

"Be quiet," snarled Ramon. "Do you want another dose of the same medicine?"

The old man quivered pitifully, while the others looked on with eyes that burned with indignation.

"If they are not opened, the dam will burst," begged the old man. "It is weakened now, I tell you. It cannot stand the pressure of more water. Let me up, and then you can tie me again."

Ramon seemed suddenly interested.

"You say that if the sluices are not opened the dam will burst?" he asked.

"Yes, yes! Let me up, I must open them. I – "

"Silence! And if they burst what will happen?"

"Why, the whole valley from here down is a trough! The water will rush down and destroy many lives and acres of property. Let me up, for Heaven's sake, Ramon, or if you will not let me do it, open the sluices yourself. You do not know what you are doing – every moment counts."

Again the thunder roared, and a blinding flash illumined with a blue, steely radiance the strange scene in the old dam-tender's shanty. In the brief period of lighting, Jack Merrill surprised a wickedly radiant look on Ramon's face. At the same instant a few heavy drops of rain fell on the roof.

"Hark! The rain!" cried the old man; "for mercy's sake, let me out. It is my duty."

"Which you will not perform to-night," sneered the Mexican, as the storm increased; "this storm saves us the use of dynamite."

In one dreadful flash of insight, Jack Merrill realized the Mexican's terrible plan. He had intended to blow up the dam and flood the valley below. The storm had taken the work out of his hands. The heavy rain-fall would swell the dam till the weak containing wall broke. In a few short hours every ranch in the course of the bursting dam would be devastated. Yes, that was what the fruit rancher at Maguez had told them. And there was nothing he could do but lie there powerlessly. The boy's brain seemed to be on fire, but in his veins was ice.

Suddenly Black Ramon spoke. For an instant Jack thought he had repented, but his words dashed that hope almost as it was born. The Mexican issued a sharp order to two of his men.

"Screw down those sluice gates till not a drop escapes," he said. "We do not want to have to wait too long."

CHAPTER XXII.
A BOLT FROM THE BLUE

Outside the shanty the storm roared and flashed. The rain pelted in torrents. Suddenly there came a sharp ringing at the telephone instrument. It seemed to have a note of insistence in it. The Mexicans exchanged glances. Here was an unexpected interruption. The instrument connected on a direct wire with the land company's offices. If one of the Mexicans answered it, the possibilities were that a warning would be spread that the dam was being tampered with.

Ramon solved the difficulty. Without untying the old man, he had two of his men support him to the telephone. Another held the receiver to Sam Simmons' ear.

Black Ramon drew his revolver and held it to the other ear.

"Now, if you utter a word of warning, I'll scatter what brains you have," he warned viciously.

In a trembling voice Sam Simmons answered the call.

"Y-y-yes, the storm is here," Jack heard him answer, evidently in reply to some question at the other end.

"Y-y-yes, I will open them, sir. Y-y-yes, I know the dam is weak."

"Don't hesitate," warned Black Ramon vindictively.

"Y-y-you'll send the engineers to-morrow, you say? Very well, sir."

"Evidently they know of the storm in the valley," thought Jack to himself; "shouldn't wonder if the old man himself warned them some time ago, before he was tied."

This was, in fact, the case. But now the old man's hesitancy grew more painful than ever.

"T-t-they're asking about you," he said, turning to the Mexican.

"Tell them you haven't seen me," snarled Ramon.

"No, I have seen nothing of him," whimpered the old man feebly. "Kidnapped some boys, you say – the ranchers are after him – and the soldiers, too – "

"There, there, that will do," said the Mexican impatiently. "When the dam bursts, those Americanos will be drowned like so many rats, and the soldiers will find an empty nest for their pains."

"G-g-good-bye. I will attend to it," quavered the old dam-tender. After responding to further warning from the other end of the wire, he was removed from the telephone and the receiver was replaced.

At the same instant the two Mexicans who had been despatched to the dam to close the sluice gates returned. Their evil smiles showed that they had done their duty well. The rain had now increased to a torrent and the small gauge on the side of the dam-keeper's hut showed that the water was rising rapidly.

"How long before the dam goes?" asked Ramon, bending over the old man, who was moaning and crying pitifully over the idea of his treachery.

"She can't last more than half an hour," he whimpered. "Oh, what shall I do? They will think it was my fault. They – "

There came a roar so dreadful that the hut seemed to be shaken like a leaf in a windstorm. At the same instant a blue glare filled the hut, hissing viciously like a nest of aroused serpents. A sulphurous odor permeated everything. Before any of the occupants of the place had time to move a step an explosion so loud that it seemed as if a ton of dynamite had detonated, rent the air.

Jack's eyes were almost blinded by the sudden glare and crash, and his senses reeled for an instant. The next moment, however, he realized what had happened. The hut had been struck by a thunderbolt.

Black Ramon, his clothing singed, stood in a dazed way in the center of the smoking hut – in the floor of which a great, jagged hole had been ripped. By his side stood two of his men. The rest lay senseless, perhaps dead, in various parts of the reeking place.

One of them had been hurled by the violence of the electrical shock close to Jack's side, and his knife lay within an inch of the boy's fingers. Bound as he was, however, he could not reach it, nor did he dare to move while the Mexican leader's eyes were on them.

Suddenly the cattle rustler's superstitious mind seemed to recover from its daze. He gazed about him in a wild way.

"It is the judgment of Heaven," he cried. "Let us escape."

Followed by the two of his men who still retained their senses, he dashed from the hut.

In an instant Jack rolled over on his side and seized the haft of the Mexican's knife in his teeth. Then he rolled over to Coyote Pete's side.

"What the dickens – " began the cow-puncher, but stopped short as Jack, still holding the blade clenched in his teeth, laid the keen blade across Pete's ropes. The knife was as keen as a razor, and in a few seconds Coyote Pete's hands were free. Then he took the knife and severed his leg bonds. A few seconds more and Jack was free, and, in less time than it takes to tell, old Sam Simmons and Jim Hicks were also on their feet.

"Quick, get their weapons," urged the cow-puncher, and instantly all four possessed themselves of the four unconscious Mexicans' knives, pistols and rifles. Black Ramon and his men, in their superstitious fright, had rushed from the place in such a hurry that they had neglected to disarm their followers.

"Now for the ponies," exclaimed Jim Hicks.

"Hold on a moment," shouted Jack. He dived out of the hut into the blinding rain. But old Simmons was ahead of him. Already the old man had sped along the top of the dam, and while the weakened breast wall of masonry shook under his feet with the great pressure behind it, had screwed open the sluice gates. Far below them a yellow flood boomed and roared and screamed its way to the valley, but the pressure on the dam had been relieved and the masonry stood.

All this took some time, and in the meanwhile Coyote Pete and Jim Hicks had cautiously crept from the hut and gone to look for the horses. They found them unharmed, but of Black Ramon there was no sign. They learned afterward that his animals had been left down the trail, so as not to alarm old Simmons when they crept on him and surprised him. As soon as the Mexican had found himself outside the lightning-blasted hut, he had lost no time in mounting his black, and speeding back to his rendezvous at the old mission. He had, of course, no idea but that the boys and the old dam-tender would go to their death with the hut when the dam collapsed.

Suddenly Jack thought of the telephone. He ran back into the hut and telephoned the glad news of the safety of the dam to the amazed office in Maguez. Also he gave them a brief sketch of what had happened.

"But what the – " came a brief voice at the other end, but already Jack had rung off and was outside, where Jim Hicks and Coyote Pete had the ponies.

They had held a hasty consultation, and had decided that inasmuch as the soldiers were advancing on the mission, and the American ranchers were on their way, that their best plan would be to head back toward the valley. But it was Jack who vetoed this plan.

"I want to be in at the finish of those rascals," he exclaimed, "and, besides, think of our friends imprisoned in that dismal old church."

"You're right, kid," shouted Coyote Pete, waving a dripping hat in the downpour, "the mission it is."

Old Simmons had been too badly shaken by his encounter with the Mexican for it to be advisable to leave him alone. Maud's pack was therefore removed, and the old dam-tender mounted on her. First, however, a call was sent for a "relief." Till the latter arrived the sluices were to be left open to drain off the heavy surplus of water.

"Wished I knew where them greasers' horses were," sighed Jim Hicks; "they'll be coming to in a minute, and walkin' bein' a healthy exercise, I'd like to provide some of it for them."

A short distance down the trail they found the miscreants' ponies, just as Ramon had left them hitched. Even the fair-minded Jack did not protest when Coyote Pete and Jim Hicks, with yells of glee, cut the cayuses loose and sent them galloping off.

"I only wish we could be here to see the Mexicans' faces when they wake up and wonder what's hit 'em," said Jim, who had examined each of the stunned men and ascertained that not one of them was seriously hurt.

"Now, then, forward!" cried Jim, as soon as the clatter of the retreating Mexican ponies' hoofs had died out.

"Forward!" echoed Jack again, putting his heels to his mount.

With a loud shout, the four Americans dashed down the trail.

"Now look out for fireworks! Yip-yip-yip-y-ee-e-ee!" yelled Coyote Pete, in a voice that rivaled the last efforts of the retreating thunder-storm.