"I'll tell you. It is because I am so fond of Chuckie that I am determined to get water on Dry Mesa, if it is possible."

"But--"

"To make use of those waste waters," he explained; "to turn this dusty semi-desert into a garden; and to benefit Chuckie by doubling the value of her father's property."

"How could that be, when the farmers would divide up his range?"

"He owns five sections, Chuckie told me. What are they worth now? But with water on them, even without a single tree planted, they would sell as orchard land for more than all his herd; and he would still have his cattle. He could sell them to the settlers for more than what he now gets shipping them over the range."

"I begin to see, Tom. I might have known it."

"I'm telling you, of course. We're to keep it from them as a happy surprise, because it may not come off. There's still the question whether the water in the canon--"

"But if it is! How delightful it will be to help Mr. Knowles and Chuckie, besides, as you say, turning this desert into a garden!"

"That valley is a natural reservoir site to hold flood waters,"

continued the engineer. "All that's needed is a dam built across the narrow place above the waterhole, with the dike for foundation. I would build it of rock from the tunnel, run down on a gravity tram."

"You've worked it all out?"

"Not all, only the general scheme. If the tunnel comes through high enough up here, we shall be able to manufacture cheap electricity to sell. Just think of our settlers plowing by electricity, and their wives cooking on electric stoves."

"You humorous boy!"

"No, I mean it. There's another thing--I wouldn't whisper it even to you if you weren't my partner as well as my wife. I have reason to believe the creek bed above the dike is a rich placer. I've planned to take Knowles and Ashton in on that discovery--Gowan, too, if Knowles asks it."

"A placer?"

"Yes, placer mine--gold washed down in the creek bed. But it's a small thing compared with another discovery I've made. Up there--" Blake pointed up the steep ledges that he had climbed--"I found a bonanza."

"Bonanza? What is that, pray?"

"A mint, a John D. bank account, a--Guess?"

"A gold mine! Oh, Tom, how romantic!"

"Yes; it's free-milling quartz. We can mill it ourselves, and not have to pay tribute to the Smelting Trust. That's romance--or at least sounds like it. You will pay for all the development work, in return for one-third share. I shall take a third, as the discoverer, and Chuckie gets the remaining third as grub-staker."

"As what?"

"She is staking us with grub--food and supplies. If she had not sent for me to come and look over the situation, I should not have been here to stumble on this mine. So she gets a share."

"I'm glad, glad, Tom! Isn't it nice to be able to do fine things for others? I'm so glad for Chuckie's sake, because, if Lafayette keeps on as he is doing now, he may win his father's forgiveness."

"What has that to do with Chuckie?"

"You and I know what she is, Dear; yet if she had no money, his father might insist on regarding her as a mere farm girl. He is as--as sn.o.bbish as I was when we were flung ash.o.r.e by the storm, there in Mozambique."

"I fail to see that it matters any to Chuckie what Ashton senior thinks."

"Of course you don't see. You're as blind as when I--" the lady blushed--"as when I had to fling myself at you to make you see. The dear girl is as deeply in love with Lafayette as he is with her."

"No? She doesn't show it. How can you tell?"

"You know that Mr. Gowan is desperately in love with her."

"That stands to reason. He couldn't help but be. Can't say I like the fellow. He may be all right, though. Must have some good qualities--Chuckie seems to be very fond of him."

"As fond as if he were a brother. No; Lafayette is to be the happy man--unless he backslides. We must help him."

Blake nodded. "That's another thing that hangs on this project. If it proves to be feasible, I can give Ashton a chance to make good as an engineer. I used to think he must have bought his C.E. Now I see he has the makings."

"He can be brilliant when he chooses. If only he were not so--so scatter-brained."

"What he needed was a jolt heavy enough to shake him together. It seems as though his father gave it to him."

"That shock, and being picked up by Chuckie," agreed Genevieve.

"We'll help her keep him braced until the cement sets," said her husband. "It's even worse to let brains go to waste than water."

"Far worse! What is the good of all your engineering--of all the machinery, yes, and all the culture of civilization, if not to uplift men and women? May the next generation work for the uplifting of all mankind, both materially and spiritually!"

"We might make a try at it ourselves," said Blake. "As for the future, I know it will not be your fault if our member of the next generation fails to do his share of uplift work."

The young mother placed her hand on her bosom, and sprang up. "We should be going back, Dear. Thomas will be wakening."

CHAPTER XX

INDIAN SHOES

They returned along the shadowy bottom of the great gorge to the glaring sunshine of the open creek bed, where they had left the rod and level. Blake placed both upon one of his broad shoulders, and gave his wife the unenc.u.mbered arm to a.s.sist her somewhat hurried pace.

As they approached the dike her hasty steps quickened to a run. She darted ahead down to the camp. Thomas Herbert Vincent was vociferating for his dinner. Blake followed at a walk. He was only a father.

When he came down to the trees he found Isobel and Ashton alone. The girl's manner was constrained and her color higher than usual. Ashton, comfortably outstretched on a blanket with her saddle for pillow, frowned petulantly at the intruder. But Isobel sprang up and came to meet Blake, unable to conceal her relief.

"I was so glad to see Genevieve," she said. "You came back just in time."

"How's that?" asked Blake, his eyes twinkling.

She blushed, but quickly recovered from her confusion to dimple and cast a teasing glance at Ashton. "Baby woke up," she answered. "You may not know it, but babies cry when they fail to get what they want."

"He's getting what he wants--I'm not!" complained Ashton.