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.