He moved briskly along the great wall of the dam, climbed the steps at the far end, and followed the road leading out of the basin. Once he turned to look at the deep lake lying placidly behind the rampart Merrick had built to hold it.
A great flash and roar filled the night. Even where Prowers stood, he felt the shake of the earth. Masses of torn concrete, of rock and sand, were flung into the air. The echoes of the explosion died, but another sound reached the anarchist on the hillside. He listened, with the diabolical grin on his lips, to a murmur of rushing waters.
The Sweetwater Dam was going out.
“The Flat Tops are liable to be irrigated good an’ plenty, looks like,” he murmured. “Well, this is no place for sight-seers.”
He shuffled along the trail, the Satanic smile still on his leathery face.
It would have vanished promptly if he had known that a pair of eyes were looking down on him from the shadow of a pine above the road.
CHAPTER XXXVI
A STORMY SEA
Betty, about to return to the Quarter Circle D E, found herself importuned by her small sister to take her along.
“I’ll be the goodest, ’n’ not bovver you, ’n’ go to bed jes’ the minute you say to,” she promised.
The older sister hesitated, then turned to her father. “Why not? I’m staying there only one night.”