"Ordering and going are two different things," said the ranchman, with a grim laugh. "You've cut off my water down below, with this dam, and I order you to open it up. My cattle are dying from thirst. Open this dam!" "Not much!" sneered Whitey Wasson, Len's crony. "But I tell you my cattle are dying, man!" exclaimed Mr. Carson. "You know what it means to steers to be without water this kind of weather." "You ought to have thought of that before you pastured them down there," sneered the cowboy. "Then you refuse to open the dam?" asked Mr. Bellmore. "We certainly do!" returned Len. "Then you must take the consequences," said Mr. Bellmore, speaking solemnly. "You will be sued for the value of every animal that dies of thirst, as well as being obliged to pay heavy damages for the trouble you have caused. I know the situation of water rights in this valley, and I tell you that you are acting illegally. Now do you still refuse to open that dam?" Len looked a bit frightened at this warning, but Whitey whispered to him, and the son of Jason Molick answered: "Go on! We're not afraid. This dam is on our land and you can't touch it!" At that moment a distant whoop sounded. Mr. Carson and the engineer looked around and saw a cloud of dust approaching. It soon resolved itself into Dave, leading a number of cowboys who bore picks and shovels--rather unusual implements for cowpunchers. On they came, hard-riding, singing and shouting, eager for the fray. They outnumbered the Centre O outfit. "Well, since you won't open the dam, we'll have to do it for you," went on Mr. Bellmore. "Lively, boys!" he called, as Dave and his friends rode up. "Tear out the dam and let the water down where it ought to run. Lively now!" "Don't you touch that dam!" screamed Len. "Go on! I order you to tear it away!" said Mr. Carson to his men. "Whoop!" they yelled in response, and a moment later, flinging themselves from their horses, they swarmed into the water and began the work of destruction. Dave, Mr. Carson and the engineer looked anxious for a moment, feeling that the Centre O boys might put up a fight. But not a gun was drawn. Perhaps the cowboys employed by the Molick outfit were disgusted with the tactics of their employer, when they heard the story of the thirst-dying cattle. No true cowboy would countenance that sort of thing. So they looked on idly while the Bar U men tore away the dam. A little trickle of water came through, flowing down the course from which it had been diverted. Gradually it grew in volume until a gushing stream filled the muddy bed of the stream. "That's what was needed," murmured Dave. "That will save our cattle." "Stop it! Let that dam alone!" yelled Len, over and over again. But no one paid any attention to him--not even the cowboys of the Centre O. They only smiled and rolled cigarettes. Perhaps they were glad to see Len beaten. But the bully and Whitey Wasson were whispering together, and soon they rode off at a gallop.