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“Hold it still, why don’t you?” shouted John. Asta struggled and strove, but without success. Panting, struggling, gasping, he fought on. His mind was filled with the horror of what would happen should he be too late. There was no way of telling how far Miguel had gone. The dam that kept him hidden from the Mexican, also hid the Mexican from him. He must—he must go on until he was well past the center of the dam—Miguel would do the job thoroughly if at all. Once there he must go through a fresh ordeal. He must climb out of the water and look over the edge of the dam in order to get his bearings and to find out where the Mexican had lit the fuse. Should he look over at the wrong spot and Miguel see him, it was the end—the end probably of his life and surely the finish of the coffer dam. “A whole heap. It seems that the talk was in town that the lid was going to blow off down at the border and that if they could get the Greasers riled up on the dam, the trouble would not be laid to them but simply on the general[170] bad blood between the Mexicans and Americans. Wesley and Harper were so enthusiastic they wanted to blow up the spillway and the mixing plant. Even in their enthusiasm they realized that the portion of the dam already built would be more than a job for dynamite.”.

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The boat easily carried all the things they had brought. Jerry took particular care in stowing away a box which he had hung onto jealously since they started. It was rather a mysterious looking case about which he had volunteered no information. Up to this time Bob had not questioned him, although he had wondered what was in it. However, as Jerry reserved the safest and dryest part of the boat for it Bob ventured to ask what it was. The trip passed quickly for Bob and his Chief. Mr. Whitney was on his way to the biggest job he had yet tackled, and Bob would taste for the first time the flavor of the work he felt he most wanted to do. To Jerry, however, the train was only bringing him to a new spell of hard labor. “You don’t mean to go through it, do you?” said Jerry, startled out of his usual calm manner by the way in which the other boy had spoken. “See that thundering big one away over there? I’m going to get her,” said Eric, pointing to a venerable looking crab that had been lying for a long time squeezed in between two rocks. The boys dangled the string with the stone on it temptingly near the big crab. Crabs usually get excited over a stone swinging above them that way. They reach up for it, grip it tightly, and—a jerk and up they come! But this crab had seen too many such stones in its long life, and lay stock still without moving a claw..