Part 14 (1/2)

”That's what they will! But it may hold until it stops raining.”

The Richfield dam was a new one, built above the small settlement of that name on the flats about three miles to the northeast of the Ponto river.

The Richfield river was a branch of the latter, and was a turbulent stream, often rising rapidly, for It was confined between steep, high! banks.

Jack had his talk with his father vividly recalled to his mind two nights later. It was the first time since the hold-up that he had been obliged to ride at night, but there was some valuable mail that had been delayed, and that must be put through.

The pony express lad was on his trip toward Rainbow Ridge from Golden Crossing, and it was dark when he reached the point where the Richfield river branched off from the Ponto. And at the sight which met his eyes the lad exclaimed:

”Say, this is certainly high water! I wonder if the dam is holding.”

It had rained hard all day. Now it was but drizzling.

”I'm going to take a run down there,” Jack decided. ”It won't take me ten minutes, and you can easily make that up; can't you Sunger?”

The pony whinnied in answer.

”I've time enough, anyhow,” Jack went on. ”I'll just go and take a look at the dam. The water must be two feet over it now.”

He turned off the main trail, and was soon approaching the dam. Before he reached it he could hear the sullen roar of the pent-up water. And when he had a view of the impounded flood he saw at once that it had approached the danger point.

Jack looked critically at the dam. He knew something about such structures, and about high water.

”I don't believe that dam will last,” he argued. ”There's too much water pressure on it.” Even as Jack spoke a small portion of the dam, near its juncture with the sh.o.r.e, gave way, and a large volume of water rushed out.

”That's the start!” cried the pony rider. ”She'll all go in half an hour.

I've got to ride down below and warn the Richfield people. Otherwise they'll be swept away. I've got to ride and warn them!”

There was nothing else to do. Jack called to his faithful pony and guided him into the trail that led to Richfield on the flats below. If that volume of water were suddenly to be released through the breaking of the dam, part of the village would be wiped out. If they were warned in time the populace in the danger zone could take to the hills on either side and escape.

”Come on, boy!” called Jack to his pony. ”It's a ride for life all right!”

CHAPTER XIII

THE INSPECTOR

Down the rocky slope, toward the little settlement on the flats below the dam, rode Jack. He thought rapidly. If he could beat the flood, there would be time to warn the sleeping population so they could flee to the hills.

There were not many who had their homes in the danger zone, not more than twenty-five families.

”I'll wake some of 'em up,” Jack reflected, ”and then they can warn the others. I don't imagine they'll have time to save anything. Too bad! But that dam is certainly going.”

The rain came pelting down once more, the drops stinging in Jack's face. He tried to listen, to ascertain if he could hear the roar of the waters that would indicate that the dam had already gone out, but all he could catch was the splash of the rain.

Jack's course was along the now turbulent stream that was formed from the overflow of the pent-up waters. In normal times this was but a mere brook, most of the waters being led off through a pipe line to supply a distant irrigation scheme. But now there was so much water that not only was the pipe line filled, but the overflow from the dam had turned the brook into a river.

”The people ought to have seen the danger, and gotten out before this,”

reflected Jack, ”but perhaps they haven't. Well, I'll do my best to save 'em!”