"I should say so," agreed the foreman.
"Look, Ned!" cried Mr. Damon. "Is that a bird; or is it Tom?" and he pointed to a speck in the sky. Ned quickly focused his glasses on it.
"It's Tom!" he cried a second later. "It's Tom in the Humming Bird!"
"Thank Heaven for that!" exclaimed Mr. Damon, fervently, forgetting to bless anything on this occasion. "If only he can get here in time!"
"He's driving her to the limit!" cried Ned, still watching his chum through the glass. "He's coming!"
"He'll need to," murmured the foreman, grimly. "That dam can't last ten minutes more. Look at the people fleeing from the valley!"
He pointed to the north, and a confused mass of small black objects—men, women and children, doubtless, who had lingered in spite of the other warning—could be seen clambering up the sides of the valley.
"Is everything ready at the gun?" asked Mr. Damon.
"Everything," answered Ned, whom Tom had instructed in all the essentials. "As soon as he lands we'll jam in the powder, and fire the shot."
"I hope he doesn't land too hard, with all that explosive on board," murmured the foreman.