One of the Mexicans in the party of pursuit whipped a long-barreled revolver into sight. The herdsmen of Hardin Ranch were not supposed to carry weapons save at night when riding herd. Lance Petterby saw the gun and yelled at his follower:
“Put away that gat.! I’ll natcher’ly manhandle any feller that fires a gun.”
The next moment Ned White uttered a shout. “Hi! that’s not mother with those fellows. It’s—it’s that Mexican girl, Flores!”
Only a hundred yards separated the two parties. The girl who had ridden in the midst of the leading crew, suddenly swung her pony to one side, wheeled him about, and dashed back toward Dorothy and her friends.
“Flores! Flores!” cried Dorothy.
“They blow up! They blow up! Dynamite!” shrieked Flores, waving her arms excitedly and letting her pony take his course.
Some of the Mexicans held in their ponies. At the warning more than one desired to keep out of the danger zone. But Lance Petterby drove on, yelling:
“Not much they won’t set off no dynamite. They ain’t gwine tuh be let.”
Without doubt he would have flung himself the next minute, single handed, upon the half dozen scoundrels had there not occurred something quite unexpected. Philo Marsh and his henchmen had leaped from their horses. They were almost at the head of the gorge. The rock between where the ground fell away into the chasm, and the brink of the rushing river, was narrow. It was plain to be seen that a properly set blast must open a gap into the bank of the river and turn the latter’s course.
Once changed into this gorge which led to the north, it would be very difficult to shut off the flow of water from the new channel.