"Thank Heaven for that!" exclaimed Mr. Damon, fervently, forgetting to bless anything on this occasion. "If only he can get here in time!"
"He's driving her to the limit!" cried Ned, still watching his chum through the glass. "He's coming!"
"He'll need to," murmured the foreman, grimly. "That dam can't last ten minutes more. Look at the people fleeing from the valley!"
He pointed to the north, and a confused mass of small black objects—men, women and children, doubtless, who had lingered in spite of the other warning—could be seen clambering up the sides of the valley.
"Is everything ready at the gun?" asked Mr. Damon.
"Everything," answered Ned, whom Tom had instructed in all the essentials. "As soon as he lands we'll jam in the powder, and fire the shot."
"I hope he doesn't land too hard, with all that explosive on board," murmured the foreman.
"Bless my checkerboard!" cried Mr. Damon. "Don't suggest such a thing."
"I guess we can trust Tom," spoke Ned.
They looked up. The distant throb of the monoplane's motor could now be heard above the roar of the swollen waters. Tom could be seen
