f we all go messing around with it in the dark, half
the shots won't fire, and we may have an accident. Outside of that
there's nothing to do except take care of the watchman if he's there;
and he's sure to be. Wyndham, you're not cut out for that sort of work.
You will stay with the ponies. Now, McCrae, you'd better turn around
and drive home."

McCrae pulled the team around. "Good luck, boys," said he quietly, and
was gone. The spare horse which had been tied to the buckboard remained
for Oscar.

The Swede proceeded to load himself with dynamite, placing it around
his legs in the high socks he wore, in the breast of his shirt, and in
his pockets. This was the overflow from a gunny sack in which he
carried the rest. He resembled a perambulating mine.

"Ay ban ready now," he announced.

"I say, Oscar, don't trip," said Wyndham facetiously.

"Nor interfere," McHale added. "Plant them number twelves of yours
plumb wide apart, Oscar, and don't try to scratch your ankle with your
boot."

Oscar grinned at them, his big, white teeth shining in the darkness. He
attempted the repartee of his adopted country.

"You faller tenk you mek big yoke--vat!" said he. "You go to hal,
please."

"Sure--if you bump anything hard," McHale retorted.

"Come on, come on!" said Casey impatiently.

Wyndham remained with the horses. He was to allow the others half an
hour, and then bring the animals down nearer the dam, so that no time
should be lost in getting away. His companions vanished in the
darkness.

Young McCrae took the lead. In the moccasins he affected he trod
noiselessly, making no more sound than a prowling, nocturnal animal.
Casey Dunne followed, almost as light-footed. Behind him Oscar clumped
along, planting his heavy boots solidly at every step. McHale brought
up the rear. Soon they struck an old cattle trail which wound down a
short coulee and brought them to the bank of the river immediately
below the dam. McCrae halted.

"There she is," he announced.

Across the river lay the huddled, black shapes of the camp buildings,
with here and there a pallid spot which marked a tent. Not a light was
visible there. Evidently the camp slept, and that was as it should be.
But nearer at hand, beside the bank of the river where the bulk of the
dam reared itself, a solitary light gleamed.

"That's the watchman," McCrae whispered. "We're in luck, boys. He's on
this side."

"Say, Ay sneak up on dat faller," Oscar proposed.