Jake Prowers had intended, while the work of destruction was under way, to return to his ranch and let it take its course. The body of Cig would be found, and the tramp would be blamed for the disaster. It would be remembered that he had already tried once to blow up the workers in the tunnel.
The cowman knew that public opinion would not hold him blameless. He would be suspected of instigating the crime, but, with Cig out of the way, nothing could be proved. There would not be the least evidence that could touch him. He had done a good job in getting rid of the New York crook. Moreover, he had not lifted a hand against the man. Was he to blame because a drunken loafer lay down and deliberately went to sleep where a charge of dynamite would shortly blow him up?
The wise course, Prowers knew, was to retire for a time to the background and to be greatly surprised when he was told that the dam had gone out. But there was in him a desire stronger than prudence. He wanted to see the flood racing through the Quarter Circle D E and its waters being wasted on the Flat Tops which they were to have reclaimed. Half his pleasure in the evil thing he had done would be lost if he could not be on the ground to gloat over Clint Reed and Merrick.
Before the night had fully spent itself, he was on his way to the Quarter Circle D E. The sun was almost up over the hilltops by the time he looked down from the rim of the little valley upon the havoc he had wrought. The ranch buildings were all gone, though he could see battered remnants of them in the swirling stream. Fences had been rooted out. A young orchard below the house was completely submerged.
The destruction was even greater than he had anticipated. It had not occurred to him that any lives would be lost, but he judged now that the men at the ranch had probably been drowned.
His interest drew him closer, to a point from which he could see the lower part of the valley. He made here two discoveries. Three men were out in the flooded district on the roof of a low building. Another group, on the shore line below him, were building two rafts, evidently with a rescue in mind.
One of the workmen caught sight of Prowers and called to him. Jake decided it was better to go down, since he had been recognized.
He glanced at the dam engineer and subdued a cackle. It might easily be possible to go too far just now.
“You move yore reservoir down here last night, Merrick?” he asked maliciously. “Wisht I’d ’a’ known. I’d kinda liked to ’a’ seen you bringin’ it down.”
Merrick said nothing. He continued to trim an edge from a plank with a hatchet. But though he did not look at Prowers his mind was full of him. He had been thinking about him all morning. Why had the dam gone out? Had it been dynamited? Was this the work of him and his hangers-on?