One of their members had been with the mob in front of the Flash Light when the explosion came, and he had told about it to the other members of Panther Pete’s gang, narrating a wonderful story. So the rascal in the tree knew what was meant by the singular words of Silas Deland--knew quite as well as did young Denton. “It was strange,” Denton assented wearily. It was plain he was not interested. He was thinking of the perils of Ellen West, and was chafing at what seemed an enforced and needless delay. He wanted to be hurrying ahead, instead of resting there under that tree. “You’ve heard about my rain-making experiments?” said Deland. “No, I don’t think that I have, except what you’ve told me,” Denton answered. Deland looked surprised and disappointed. He had fancied that his fame had preceded him. “Well, it was at White Cloud, Arizony, where I made my biggest experiment. No rain there for nigh about a year, and everything dry as a powder mill. There wasn’t a speck of cloud in the sky when I went there. I says to the people of White Cloud, ‘Give me a thousand dollars after it’s done, and I’ll bring you all the rain you want inside of twenty-four hours.’” He stopped and looked at the sky, and then pointed a finger, seeming to the spy in the tree to be pointing straight at him. “Looky there now! When I set off that bomb in the crowd before the Flash Light, there wasn’t a cloud as big as a man’s hand anywhere in sight. I’ll leave it to you if there was.” “No, there wasn’t.” “And now, look at the sky--all covered over with clouds; and it will sure rain inside of twenty-four hours, especially if I set off some more of ’em. I think I’ll turn this one loose; it will signal to our friends, maybe, and bring ’em to us; and it will bring rain to fill up some of these hollers, so that we’ll have water fer ourselves and our horses, and won’t be in danger of thirsting ter death before we get back.” He toyed with the little bomb. “What do ye say?” “I’m too tired to form an opinion,” Denton answered. “Well, we need help, and that’s a fact. We don’t know where we’re goin’. We’re jes’ amblin’ along, trustin’ to luck. Luck is a good thing, but some other things aire better. This is.” He patted the egg-shaped thing. “So, if you don’t object, I think I’ll touch her off.” “The road agents are as likely to see it and come as our friends.” “We’ll keep our eyes open. And there’s one thing: If any road agents aire drawn by it, we kin keep out of sight of ’em; and then we can trail ’em, and by trailin’ ’em we’ll find where their hotel is out here; and we’ll be close, then, to the place where they’re holding the young lady.” This was to Ben Denton the most convincing argument of all. “Go ahead!” he said wearily. He sat against the tree, his hat pulled over his eyes, his whole appearance showing that he was on the verge of exhaustion.