The more impulsive were already tearing down the road in automobiles, without any very definite notion of where they were headed for. As is customary in such cases, every man who had a tongue had also an opinion which he was eager to impart to somebody, and was unable to find any one who would listen to him. Into this confusion the A. P. man burst like a rocket shot off accidentally. He was on his way to the telegraph office on the second floor of the depot, and he meant to arrive there ahead of the others so that he could be sure of a clear wire to cover the story. Besides, he had been impressed with the need of haste in warning people below. Yet he found time to shout the news to a group of men as he passed them. “Colorado’s dammed!” he cried, and did not wait to explain how it should be spelled. Wherefore Las Vegas guessed harder than ever until men less hurried arrived from the banquet hall and told just what had happened. Immediately thereafter, every man who owned a car cranked up and got going in the direction of Black Canyon. The Governor of the State stayed a while to give certain orders and to make sure that they would be promptly obeyed. Peter laid a detaining hand upon the arm of a shrewd young lawyer whom he knew slightly, and who had studied him intently while Peter explained to the banqueters the commotion. The young lawyer instinctively drew aside from the throng, to a clear space where confidences might be indulged in. But Peter was brief. “Here’s a check. It’s good for ten thousand. You advertise that people with smashed windows and so on can have the damage made good. Get a contractor, have him investigate all complaints, and then fix things up. I’ll see you in a day or so. I’m going to the river to see what’s happened. You attend to the damages here.” He did not wait until the lawyer consented to accept the job, but left him standing there, the check in his hands, an unlighted cigar in his mouth. Peter was just climbing into the big car that drew up to the curb for him, when the A. P. man--his name was Jerry Newton, by the way--sprinted a half-block and landed on the running board. “Sent out a general alarm,” he puffed, “and got the news to headquarters. Cramer’s speech--wrote it during the feed. Had a hunch I might have to make it snappy. Needles and Yuma will get word to the ranchers--if the big splash holds off a couple of hours they think they can reach everybody, practically. Anybody got a cigar? Never had time to eat a bite.” “You’re out of luck, then,” Peter informed him. “No chance till breakfast, now.” Rawley swung round upon them from the front seat, where he was to pilot the driver. His voice was strained and unnatural. “The--folks would know enough to get out of danger, wouldn’t they, Uncle Peter?” “They would,” Peter said grimly, “if they had any warning.” “You don’t think it was an accident, surely!” As Rawley spoke, others leaned to listen for Peter’s reply.