"The devil we haven't!" Angus exclaimed. "What's wrong?"
"Ay be goldarn if Ay know. She's yoost oft. Mebbe dae ditch ban plug."
"Glom a shovel for me and get an ax and pick and I'll be right with you," Angus told him.
Dressing hastily, he struck the main ditch behind the house. It was dry, save for little pools in which water lingered. They crossed the rear fence, finding no obstruction, and followed the ditch until it struck the sidehill section. Then Gus who was in the lead, stopped with an oath.
"By Yudas Priest!" he ejaculated, "dae whole dam' sidehill ban vash to hal!"
Pushing past him, Angus surveyed the damage. Where the ditch had run was a raw, gaping wound in the hillside. Hundreds of tons of gravel, earth and small bowlders had slid down on it. The far end of the ditch vomited water upon the mass. Even as they looked a few yards of hillside undermined by its rush came down upon the broken end, blocking the water. This, backed up, began to pour over the banks of the ditch.
Left to itself the whole ditch would wash away. Circling the break, both men took the trail to the intake. The water gate was wide open. The high water of the creek was hurrying through in a swift flood, far more than the ditch could carry. They threw their weight on the lever and shut it off.
"Who opened it this far on that water?" Angus demanded.
"Ay ent been near him," Gus replied. "Mebbe dae Engelschman monkey med him."
It was most unfortunate. In other years the ditch had carried a full head without accident. This time, however, it had failed just at the time when water was absolutely necessary to the crops. The only way to get water now was to build a flume; and so, immediately after breakfast, Rennie started for a load of planks, while the others began to get out timbers to support them, and to clear away the mass of dirt. Chetwood, it appeared, had not been near the water gate. Somebody, however, had changed it.