"Can't hear anything above the smashing of the lumberjacks' boots." "Me hear. Big noise up river--boom--boom--boom! Listen! What you hear?" "It sounds like wind in the tops of the trees," answered Hippy after a moment of listening. "No wind. Willy know." "What is it, then?" "Water! Dam up-river go out. Water come down! Mebby logs come down, too!" "What! The dam built by the timber-thieves? It isn't possible. There is not enough water in the dam to cause the roar I hear." "Plenty water. You fix gates so dam fill up. You know." "That's so." Hippy ran down to the river to listen, still doubting Willy's assertion that the timber-thieves' dam had burst out. The Indian had followed and stood silently beside his listening companion, his own ears listening to the distant murmur. Willy, however, did not need to listen. He knew! "I don't believe it is water that we hear," muttered Lieutenant Wingate. "Him water," muttered the Indian. "Moon come up. Good!" The moon at full, after being hidden from view for nearly a week, rose above the tops of the trees, thinning the darkness that lay heavy on the river, the full light not yet having reached the Little Big Branch at that point. Hippy shaded his straining eyes and gazed upstream. All seemed peaceful in that direction, but he suddenly realized that the sound he had heard was increasing in volume. He could now hear a succession of hollow reports, the meaning of which he could not fathom. He asked his companion what it meant. "Logs him jump up in water. Knock together and make big noise." Hippy suddenly visualized the scene that the Indian's brief words had pictured. "Watch it! I'm going for help!" cried Hippy, sprinting for the shack. As he neared it the familiar sounds of the earlier evening greeted his ears. The fiddler was still sawing away; the bang of hob-nailed shoes on the floor of the shack resounded rhythmically, and Hippy thought, as he ran, of the weariness that the Overland girls must feel after their strenuous evening of constant dancing with the rough and ready lumberjacks who knew neither fatigue for themselves nor for their entertainers. Reaching the doorway, Hippy caught Tom Gray's eye and beckoned to him. "Yes?" questioned Tom eagerly as he stepped over to Lieutenant Wingate. "Willy says the dam has gone out. I can't tell whether it has or not, but it sounds that way." "What dam?" demanded Tom Gray. "That up-river dam of the timber-pirates. You remember we shut the gates to keep the water below it low while we were driving the spiles for our dam." Tom ran out into the open and stood listening. A moment of it was all that was necessary to tell him what had happened. "Quick! The gates. We must get our gates open or we're lost!" The two men sprinted for the river, Tom in the lead, Hippy a close second. He wondered why he had not thought of the gates, and chided himself for his stupidity.