“We'd better go up and take a look,” he suggested. “Th' boys has things going here all right.” The two men turned towards the brush. “Hi, Tim,” called a voice behind them. Red Jacket appeared clambering up the cliff. “Jack told me to give this to you,” he panted, holding out a chunk of strangely twisted wood. “Where'd he get this?” inquired Thorpe, quickly. “It's a piece of the dam,” he explained to Wallace, who had drawn near. “Picked it out of the current,” replied the man. The foreman and his boss bent eagerly over the morsel. Then they stared with solemnity into each other's eyes. “Dynamite, by God!” exclaimed Shearer. Chapter L For a moment the three men stared at each other without speaking. “What does it mean?” almost whispered Carpenter. “Mean? Foul play!” snarled Thorpe. “Come on, Tim.” The two struck into the brush, threading the paths with the ease of woodsmen. It was necessary to keep to the high inland ridges for the simple reason that the pole trail had by now become impassable. Wallace Carpenter, attempting to follow them, ran, stumbled, and fell through brush that continually whipped his face and garments, continually tripped his feet. All he could obtain was a vanishing glimpse of his companions' backs. Thorpe and his foreman talked briefly. “It's Morrison and Daly,” surmised Shearer. “I left them 'count of a trick like that. They wanted me to take charge of Perkinson's drive and hang her a purpose. I been suspecting something--they've been layin' too low.” Thorpe answered nothing. Through the site of the old dam they found a torrent pouring from the narrowed pond, at the end of which the dilapidated wings flapping in the current attested the former structure. Davis stood staring at the current. Thorpe strode forward and shook him violently by the shoulder. “How did this happen?” he demanded hoarsely. “Speak!” The man turned to him in a daze. “I don't know,” he answered. “You ought to know. How was that 'shot' exploded? How did they get in here without you seeing them? Answer me!” “I don't know,” repeated the man. “I jest went over in th' bresh to kill a few pa'tridges, and when I come back I found her this way. I wasn't goin' to close down for three hours yet, and I thought they was no use a hangin' around here.” “Were you hired to watch this dam, or weren't you?” demanded the tense voice of Thorpe. “Answer me, you fool.” “Yes, I was,” returned the man, a shade of aggression creeping into his voice. “Well, you've done it well. You've cost me my dam, and you've killed five men. If the crew finds out about you, you'll go over the falls, sure. You get out of here! Pike! Don't you ever let me see your face again!” The man blanched as he thus learned of his comrades' deaths. Thorpe thrust his face at him, lashed by circumstances beyond his habitual self-control.