out again, once, twice, three times. But the figure, whoever
or whatever it was, ran on. It now had reached the top of the dam, and
could be seen with more or less distinctness, sky-lined against the
starlight and the gray sky behind it.

Sim Gage, old-time hunter, used all his life to firearms, was used also
to firing at running game. He drew down now deep into the rear sight
of his Springfield, allowing for the faint light, and held at the front
edge of the running figure as nearly as he could tell. He fired once,
twice and three times--rap!--rap!--rap!--the echo came from the
concrete--at the figure as it crouched and stumbled on. Then it
stopped. There came a scrambling and a sliding of the object, which
fell at the top of the dam. It slipped off the dam top and rolled and
slid almost at his feet. He dragged it down into the edge of the beams
of the searchlight itself.

Up to this time he had not known or suspected who the man might be. At
first he now thought it was a woman. In reality it was a Chinaman, the
cook and body-servant of Waldhorn, engineer at the power operations!
He was dead.

Sim stood looking down at what he had done, trying in his slow fashion
of mind to puzzle out what this man had been doing here, and why he had
come. He heard the sound of running feet above him, heard challenges,
shouts, every way. Others had heard the shot. "This way, fellers----
Come along!" he heard Wid Gardner call out, high and clear; for that
night Wid also was of the upper guard.

But they were not running in his direction. They seemed to be back on
the street. All at once Sim Gage solved his little problem. This
Chinaman had been sent to do this work--sent by the owner of that house
yonder, the engineer, Waldhorn. That prisoner must not escape now. He
knew! It was he who had given the searchlight signal! Waldhorn--and
Dorenwald! He coupled both names now again.

Sim Gage himself, having a shorter distance to go than his comrades,
left his dead Chinaman, and started after the man higher up. He
reached the Waldhorn quarters slightly before the others.

He heard the screen door of the log house slam, saw a stout and burly
man step out, satchel in hand. The man walked hurriedly toward a car
which Sim Gage had not noticed, since there was so much unused
machinery about, wheel scrapers, wagons, plows and the like. Now he
saw that it was Waldhorn and Waldhorn's car. He was taking advantage
of this