Joe mentally kicked himself. The Chief had said he was going to swim.
Now--but only now--Joe looked to see what he was doing.
He was far out from shore, swimming unhurriedly to the powerhouse at the
middle of the dam. He would reach it, and swing up the ladder that could
just be seen going down the lake side of the dam's top, and he would
explain the situation on shore. A telephone call to Bootstrap would
bring security men rushing at eighty miles an hour, and parachute
troopers a good deal faster. But even before they arrived the Chief
would lead the powerhouse crew ashore armed with the shotguns they kept
for shooting waterfowl in and out of season.
The men on shore might or might not consider the Chief's swim to be
proof that he knew their intentions. They were probably discussing the
matter in some agitation right now. But they couldn't know that the
party on the semi-island was armed.