The reporters got out their pencils and paper and began to interview the man. They wanted to know who was going to set off the dynamite, how many pounds he would use, where he got it, how he was going to use it, how he would lower it, and what would happen when he had it in place.  
“If you want to know, go ask him,” the man exclaimed at length. “I’m not going to stay around here. It’s bad enough if the dam breaks, let alone the dynamite going up!”
 
Then he started off on a run, while the reporters, with the exception of Mr. Newton, stood with pencils poised.
 
But it seemed that something was going on in the crowd down at the western end of the dam. There were men running to and fro, and preparations seemed to be under way for some undertaking.
 
As the reporters and others watched they saw a man run out on the broad coping on top of the dam. In his hands he carried a package which274 they guessed to be dynamite. He seemed to have no fear of the deep waters on one side of him or the big gully on the other, to which he might fall and be dashed to death on the rocks.
 
With a long rope, around which was a fuse, he lowered the explosive to the bottom of the big wall of masonry. The idea was to blow a hole in the rocks under it, and not to injure the dam itself, but to make a place where the water could escape, in addition to the regular exits. It was a task of peril and few would have liked to undertake it.
 
The crowd almost in breathless silence watched the man lower the powerful explosive to the bottom of the wall inch by inch. He seemed like a fly out there on the narrow coping of the dam, and likely to be swept to his death any minute.
 
Mr. Newton, who had learned the brave man’s name from a bystander, was busy writing a story about him which he intended to send to the paper. He was on a little hill where he could have a good view of the operation and yet be out of danger.
 
Suddenly the man raised his hand. It was a signal that the dynamite was in place and that he was about to touch off the fuse. Hundreds ran back, for, though they were in no danger, they imagined they were.
 
The man was seen to stoop over and strike a match. A little puff of smoke arose. The crowd watched to see him run back and regain solid275 ground. But, as it happened, the first match went out. He had to light another. This time he managed to kindle the fuse. A little puff of smoke arose on the damp air. The rain came down harder.
 
“It may put the fuse out,” said Mr. Newton.
 
The man was bending over, watching it. He seemed to be fanning the fuse to a blaze. Then, all at once, he started on a run toward shore.
 
“I guess he’s lighted it,” observed Mr. Newton, looking at his watch.
 
There were several anxious minutes of waiting. A thin wreath of smoke arose from the fuse. The other reporters were scribbling away.
 
Suddenly a dull boom sounded. A cloud of rocks and dirt arose from the bottom of the dam. The waters in the reservoir seemed tremendously agitated.
 
“There’s a hole in the dam!” cried several.
 
“No, there isn’t!” said Mr. Newton to Larry. “Here! Take this copy. It’s another failure! I’ve wired ’em to hold back for an extra. The dam is liable to go any second now. The explosion only weakened it along the whole length. Hurry back, Larry.”
 
He gave the boy a bundle of copy and Larry, jumping on his wheel, pedaled off as fast as he could. Several of the other reporters, who had not thought to provide messengers, started for the telegraph office on the run.
 
276 “You’re a foxy one, Newton,” they said. “But you wait! We’ll beat you yet.”
 
“You’re welcome to try,” was Mr. Newton’s answer.
 
Larry was making good time, in spite of the rain-soaked roads. He reached the telegraph office some minutes in advance of the other reporters, and, as the rule is in regard to press dispatches, the first to come is the first to be served, Mr. Newton’s stuff went over the wire ahead of the other dispatches.
 
“I can’t promise to send much more,” said the operator, as several of the reporters came into the office. “Just got word that the waters just above here are worse than ever. Guess I’ll have to vacate here soon.”
 
“Where will you go?” asked Larry.
 
“I’ll take some of the instruments and set up a temporary office on the high hill back of the town,” was the answer. “The water can’t get there, and if you’ll get a boat you may be able to bring me your copy.”
 
“I’ll get a boat,” said Larry, with a laugh. “But perhaps it will not be as bad as you think.”
 
“It will be worse,” replied the operator, clicking away at his key.
 
Larry started b............