Tug walked to the tent of his chief and called him. Merrick answered sleepily, but at the words, “trouble at the dam,” he became instantly alert. Three minutes later he joined his assistant. One glance satisfied him. “The dam’s gone out,” he said quietly. Neither by word nor manner did he betray what a blow this was to him. That which he had given two of the best years of his life for, had worked and fought for with all the brains and strength he possessed, was now only a menace to the community instead of a hope. It was a staggering disappointment. He had builded so surely, so safely, yet somewhere must have been a miscalculation that had brought disaster. “The water’s probably coming through the Quarter Circle ranch,” he suggested. “Yes. We’d better rouse the men and get right up there. There may be danger if the valley gets flooded.” Tug did not wait for the others. His words had expressed only palely the alarm he felt. If the break in the dam was a serious one--and it must be to have reached the mesa so quickly--the Quarter Circle must inevitably be flooded. He knew Betty was at her ranch. One of the men had mentioned in his hearing that he had seen her and Ruth going up the afternoon before. He was worried--very greatly worried. His long strides carried him over the ground fast, but his fears moved faster. Presently he quickened his pace to a run. Dawn was at hand. He was splashing through water five or six inches deep. Swinging round a bend in the road, he pulled up for a moment in dismay. Through the gap in the hogback, beyond which was the Quarter Circle D E ranch, a solid stream of water was pouring. Its flow was as steady and as constant as that of a river. Cut off from the road, he splashed through a deepening stream to the foot of the hogback. It was a stiff quarter of an hour’s climb to reach the rock-rim below the ridge. He grudged the two or three minutes’ delay in finding a practicable ascent up the twenty-five-foot rim, for he was in a desperate hurry. Hand over hand he went up the face of the rock, clinging to projecting knobs, to faults in the surface, and to shrubbery rooted in narrow crevices. Over the edge of the sandstone he drew himself to the level surface above. One glance from the summit showed him a valley submerged. Most of the cattle had evidently escaped to the higher ground, warned by the first of the flood as it poured down. He could see the upper hillside dotted with them. The barn, the bunkhouse, the ranch house itself, were all gone. Fragments of them might be made out on the surface of the lake that had formed--if one could call a pent-up, raging torrent by such a name. His eyes swept the valley in search of the ranch house. He found one of the eaves sticking out of the current. All the rest of the overturned building was under water.