ornamental grounds all under water. Which the same is tough."

Ballard was Elsa Craigmiles's lover, and he agreed in a single forcible
expletive. Bromley acquiesced in the expletive, and went on.

"The colonel refused to sell his country-house holding, as a matter of
course; and the company decided to take chances on the suit for damages
which will naturally follow the flooding of the property. Meanwhile,
Braithwaite had organised his camp, and the foundations were going in. A
month or so later, he and the colonel had a personal collision, and,
although Craigmiles was old enough to be his father, Braithwaite struck
him. There was blood on the moon, right there and then, as you'd
imagine. The colonel was unarmed, and he went home to get a gun.
Braithwaite, who was always a cold-blooded brute, got out his
fishing-tackle and sauntered off down the river to catch a mess of
trout. He never came back alive."

"Good heavens! But the colonel couldn't have had any hand in
Braithwaite's drowning!" Ballard burst out, thinking altogether of
Colonel Craigmiles's daughter.

"Oh, no. At the time of the accident, the colonel was back here at the
camp, looking high and low for Braithwaite with fire in his eye. They
say he went crazy mad with disappointment when he found that the river
had robbed him of his right to kill the man who had struck him."

Ballard was silent for a time. Then he said: "You spoke of a mine that
would also be flooded by our reservoir. What about that?"

"That came in after Braithwaite's death and Sanderson's appointment as
chief engineer. When Braithwaite made his location here, there was an
old prospect tunnel in the hill across the canyon. It was boarded up and
apparently abandoned, and no one seemed to know who owned it. Later on
it transpired that the colonel was the owner, and that the mining claim,
which was properly patented and secured, actually covers the ground upon
which our dam stands. While Sanderson was busy brewing trouble for
himself with Manuel, the colonel put three Mexicans at work in the
tunnel; and they have been digging away there ever since."

"Gold?" asked Ballard.

Bromley laughed quietly.

"Maybe you can find out--nobody else has been able to. But it isn't
gold; it must be something infinitely more valuable. The tunnel is
fortified like a fortress, and one or another of the Mexicans is on
guard day and night. The mouth of the tunnel is lower than the proposed
level of the dam,