d out toward the desert. Up through the trail
that led to the dam, darkened by dense evergreens to a deeper shadow, he
rode wildly. In the shadow of a great rock, he looked down upon the
still rising water, black with depth. He saw the great tubes let in at
the base, the wheels by which the gates were controlled, the wide,
rock-paved waste weir that, leading from the reservoir, gave into the
canyon below. He noted the broken earth, the clinging trees that hung
over the weir. His eyes, calculating, merciless, rested on the trees. A
gleam of triumph came to them. If the wheels were broken, the gates
could not be opened, and the water was even now trickling over the weir.
In a day or two, the whole volume of the Sangre de Cristo would pour
through it. Just a little powder behind the retaining wall, and the
whole bank would fall and choke the weir. Just a few hours and, the weir
choked, the gates unopened, the whole volume of the river would creep
over the coping of the dam, pick out grain by grain the unprotected
earth, till the dam weakened, the mighty mass of stored water would rush
in devastating waves down through the canyon, and the canal would be as
if it had never been. The dream of a life, the labor of years, these lay
in the hollow of his hand.

Why should he pity others who were pitiless to him? What mattered it,
if, like Samson of old, he should drag down the very pillars of the
structure he had raised? What mattered it, if he too should perish in
the ruins?

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The party that had gathered to see the last stone of the great Sangre de
Cristo dam swung into position was far larger than Winston had expected.
Elijah was not among them. Winston had spared no effort to find Elijah
and to deliver to him another message to the effect that he was once
more a free man. Messengers had been sent to his ranch; but he had left
home and Amy had not seen him for several days; she supposed him to be
in Ysleta. Parties had scoured the mountain in the vicinity of the dam,
but in vain. It was clear that Elijah was purposely in hiding and that
the exercises at the dam must be carried on without him.

Ysleta was largely represented. Winston was at first surprised, then
deeply grateful for the genuine interest which even the wildest boomers
displayed in his work. As, one by one, in pairs or in groups, they took
him cordially by the hand, congratulated him on the successful
completion of a great piece of wo