The Texan whirled to face the others whose horses had crowded close and stood with drooping heads.

“The reservoir’s let go!” he shouted, and pointed into the grey wall of water at right angles to their course.  “Ride!  Ride like hell an’ save yourselves!  I’ll look after her!” The next instant he whirled his horse against the girl’s.

“Ride straight ahead!” he roared.  “Give him his head an’ hang on!  I’ll stay at his flank, an’ if you go down we’ll take a chance together!”

Slipping the quirt from the horn of his saddle the cowboy brought it down across her horse’s flank and the animal shot away straight into the opaque grey wall.  Alice gave the horse a loose rein, set her lips, and gripped the horn of her saddle as the brute plunged on.

The valley was not wide.  They had reached a point where its sides narrowed to form the mouth of the canyon.  The pound of the horse’s feet was lost in the titanic bombilation of the elements—­the incessant crash and rumble of thunder and the ever increasing roar of rushing waters.  At every jump the girl expected her frantic horse to go down, yet she was conscious of no feeling of fear.  She glanced over her shoulder, but the terrific downpour acted as a curtain through which her eyes could not penetrate with the aid even of the most vivid flashes of lightning.  Yet she knew that the Texan rode at her flank and that the others followed—­Endicott and Bat, with his pack-horse close-snubbed to his saddle-horn.  Suddenly the girl felt her horse labouring.  His speed slackened perceptibly.  As abruptly as it started the rain stopped; and she saw that water was swirling about his knees.  Saw also by the aid of a lightning flash that throughout its width the valley was a black sea of tossing water.  Before her the bank was very close and she jerked her horse toward a point where the perpendicular sides of a cutbank gave place to a narrow plane that slanted steeply upward.  It seemed to the girl that the steep ascent would be impossible for the horses but it was the only chance.  She glanced backward.  The Texan was close behind, and following him were the others, their horses wallowing to their bellies.  She had reached the hill and so steep was its pitch that her horse seemed perpendicular to the earth’s surface.  She leaned over the horn and twisted her fingers into his mane as the animal, his feet clear of the water, clawed and scrambled like a cat to gain the top.  Another moment and he had pulled himself over the edge and the girl leaped to the ground.  The Texan had not followed to the top but had halted his horse at the edge of the water that was mounting steadily higher.  Bat swung in with his pack horse and with his quirt Tex forced them up the embankment.  Endicott’s horse was all but swimming.  The water came above the man’s knees as the animal fought for footing.  The Texan leaned far out and, grasping the bridle, drew him in to the bank and quirted him to the top.  Then, as the three watched, he headed his own horse upward.  Scarcely had the animal come clear of the water when the eager watchers saw that something was wrong.