But what was Dugan doing there at this out-of-the-way dam in a raging storm, and crawling inch by inch with a gun in hand toward the man who had been his friend? Either he had not recognized Jed and thought that he was stalking Scott, or had some ulterior motive which Scott did not know anything about for disposing of Jed. It was probably the former. Scott noticed that Jed was no longer brandishing his guns and shouting curses in the teeth of the storm. A fit of sullen depression had apparently come over him and he was crouched in a heap so that it was difficult even to recognize him as a man, to say nothing of determining his identity.
Dugan evidently wanted to make sure. He could easily have picked the man off from where he was, but he wormed his way steadily nearer. He was beyond the last piece of cover now and was working his way across the narrow open space which separated him from the sluice gates of the dam.
The storm instead of abating seemed to be increasing in fury. Flash followed flash almost without cessation. The crashing of the thunder sounded like a barrage of hundreds of big guns. And through it all there sounded the rush of waters. There seemed to be but one inanimate object in the whole scene. Trees and rocks and mountain peaks seemed to be dancing in the fickle flashes of light. The man on the sluice gates only seemed motionless. Perhaps he had gone to sleep in that perilous position on those groaning sluice gates.
Scott watched with a curious fascination. It seemed to him that fate had thought better of her irony and was sending this special agent to relieve him of his odious task. He was perfectly willing to have it so. It was like a reprieve from a horrible sentence. It had but one disagreeable feature. It was so maddeningly slow. He dreaded lest he should hear the dam giving way almost any minute.
Dugan did not seem to be in any hurry. He wanted to make sure. He evidently doubted whether the motionless object on the sluice gates was his man. He was lying perfectly still now watching it. He did not want to risk a shot at a scarecrow and sound a warning. Convinced at last that he was mistaken he rose to his feet and took a step toward the sluice gates.