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Zing! A sharp report and a whistle through the air by his ear told him that Miguel had caught sight of him and hoped to stop him by means of a bullet. But Bob had to go on. Again came a shot, but this time farther from him. “Rotten shooting!” panted Bob for the wind to hear. Now he was almost at his goal. He saw that there was still a length of fuse to be burned before it got to the explosive but the smoke was moving rapidly towards him. Another bullet came. He would not have time to get to the end of the fuse before it exploded. Despairing, he was almost ready to give up., When he reached the edge of the river Bob slipped into the water with as little noise as possible. Keeping close to the dam he found that he could make fair headway by half swimming and half walking along the slanting boards which held the Rio Grande in check. His plan was desperate, yet it was the only one that seemed feasible. Miguel would probably set a rather long fuse, one long enough to allow him to get safely away. “If I can only get there before the fuse has burned to the first stick of dynamite!” gasped Bob to himself., “The reason given was that the lack of water would interfere with navigation, but when you realize that it isn’t until the Rio Grande flows a thousand miles on the other side of the Mexican boundary that any navigation begins, you can see how ridiculous that objection was. We were able to get this treaty broken at last and have substituted a new one in its place. Under this new treaty we guarantee to deliver to Mexico a certain minimum number of gallons of water a year and we are at liberty to do what we like with the remainder. By building this dam we will give Mexico only one-tenth of the total amount stored each year, yet that one-tenth is more than half as much again as they are getting now!”.