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James J. Lestrade took his time, for he had discovered long ago that a fast pace unsettled his corpulent body and soon tired any horse that carried him. He thought better, too, when giving his animal free rein; and that, despite the torrid sun and the dust creeping up his nostrils, made him in a degree oblivious to physical discomfort. He was always pulling strange schemes from the back of his head, and turning them over and over, and returning most as being too daring or too impractical. Nearly anything was grist for his mind and above all, he liked to take the various men he knew and pull them apart.

He prided himself in this. It was his own belief that he understood perfectly the foibles and vanities of the settlers; and he found a great deal of pleasure in running down the roster of friends and acquaintances and affixing to each name a certain tag. This man had a price. That man could not be bought. In the present circumstances he was inspecting those particular ones who were most vitally connected with his irrigation plan. Foremost, of course, were Dan Rounds and Archer Steele, and as he closed his heavy lids, he summoned their faces before him.

Best I could do under the situation, he thought. Howsomever, both are feeble props. Dan, he might go back on me. I can see that right plain. Got to get him involved so he can't. When the time arrives that I can do without his help, I'll find a way to throw him over. As for Steele, it's plumb necessary to watch him close. That man's a snake. He'd do me in in a minute if he had the nerve. Got to watch him. Now, let's see what we're going to tell Judge Henry.

By the time he reached the Henry place he had smoothed every wrinkle of his plan, making note of little points here and there that would appeal to the Judge's inordinate vanity. And when he tied his horse to the corral and mounted the porch he summoned all his affability and humor. The judge, he found, was rocking himself on the porch, half shrouded in the settling dusk.

"Howdy, Judge Henry," he said, stressing the title. "You see a weary man before you that's traveled a mighty hot road just to make a particular call. Hope you bear this heat better than I do."

The judge, instantly flattered by the visit, pursed his lips and motioned to an adjoining chair. "Hem. Sit down. Not going any farther tonight, are you? Well, you'll have supper with us. A particular visit, you say?"

"Let's go into your office," Lcstrade suggested.

Judge Henry rose with alacrity. At the screen door Lestrade met Gracie and drew off his hat, all smiles. "Miss Gracie, your dad asked me to supper and I sure hope you'll second the motion."

"Good evening, sir. We'll be mighty glad to have you, providing you won't mind the cooking."

Lestrade looked down at the red hair, shimmering now under the hall light. His heavy lids drooped. "Gracie, I'd feel honored to eat it the rest of my born days. Judge, your girl's getting pretty enough to steal. You want to watch out."

"Well," the judge said, "there's some that I got an eye on. A man that's an ordinary vagrant can't marry my daughter."

Lestrade's body shook with a kind of internal laughter. He touched Gracie's shoulder with a finger, but at the sight of her eyes, he suddenly drew the finger away.

"Guess I better not be so shiftless then. Might want to throw my hat in the ring if I drought there was a chance."

The two men passed down the hall, and presently shut themselves in the judge's office. Gracie stood silent, her face turned toward the door. She had come out of the kitchen at the first sound of the visitor, thinking it was Lin Ballou. Lestrade had received her welcoming smile quite under false pretenses, for it certainly had not been meant for him.

What does he want with my father? she asked herself, the worry creeping into her forehead. What would any cattleman want from a homesteader? He may flatter poor Dad, but I see through that fine talk. And he'd better keep his fat old hands away from me.

There was a whistle from the corral. She went eagerly through the screen to meet Lin.

"Hope I ain't late," he apologized, "but I had to do a little currying and brushing. Fellow like me is under an awful handicap. Nature did such a blame poor job that it takes a lot of bear oil and harness grease to piece out. Anyhow, I guess you can recognize me."

"Lin," she said plaintively, "I wish you wouldn't always low- grade yourself. Why, I think you're good looking—"

"Now, Gracie, you be careful. You're a lot too young to start in on perjury."

"Lin, you come out to the kitchen with me while I dish up. Dad, he's got company. Mr. Lestrade came on some errand and they're in the office. I know I shouldn t be fussing about such things, but this worries me. Why should a cattleman have business with a homesteader?"

She looked up to see his expression. Lin was staring down the hall.

"Can't tell," he replied. "Lestrade's got an iron in 'most every fire."

Her fingers went up to a button of his coat. "You're thinking something else," she said. "Whenever you assume that poker face, I know there's solemn thoughts behind it. But what if he has got an iron in every fire? There's no fire here."

"Yes, there is. Gracie, you're the fire."

"Lin, how you talk! Mr. Lestrade wouldn't spend any time on me."

"No?" Lin said. "He'd be crazy if he didn't."

"Hush." She led him into the kitchen and ordered him around so fast he had little time to talk. But when the pie came out of the pantry and was placed on the table, he grinned from ear to ear.

"Gal, you know how to flatter a man's stomach. I've got a notion—"

The notion, whatever its nature, was interrupted. The office door opened and the judge, followed by Lestrade, came into the dining room. The judge had a glum, owlish look for Lin which the young man answered with a cheerful grin. Lestrade spoke jovially to him, though he passed one swift appraising glance to the girl first.

"Howdy, Lin, howdy. Ain't seen you for a small coon's age. What keeps you away from the town these days?"

"Prospecting," the judge said ironically. "Sit down, Mr. Lestrade, and eat. Pass the meat and gravy, Gracie. Hem. Guess you never believed me when I said we'd get water some day, did you, young man? Well, I'm old enough, I hope, to know better. We're going to have water in this valley and we're going to have it soon. How's that sound to your intelligence?"

The man was inflated with importance. He pursed his lips in all manner of shapes, his shoulders thrown back and his pudgy body as straight as a ramrod. Lestrade beamed at him, which caused Lin to make a thoughtful reservation.

"Of course there was an iron in the fire," he said to himself. "Maybe two of 'em." Aloud he asked, "Where's this water coming from, up or down?"

"It's coming," the judge announced, "from Lake Esprit, and it'll be brought by a main ditch right into the valley. Mr. Lestrade and I have come to several important conclusions which the settlers will agree with as soon as I call a meeting. If you should like to know more —though from the foolishness in your head I'm not sure you would—I might say it will be a cooperative concern, headed by myself and Mr. Lestrade."

"Oh," Lin said, and for a moment he forgot the company and the food. His mind raced back and forth, all the while filling with suspicion. "Who's to supply the money?"

"The stockholders. In other words, the settlers."

Lin pushed his plate back and spoke with a sudden vehemence that surprised them all. "You mean to tell me you're rushing into a private irrigation system when none of you knows beans about it? How much money do you think this valley holds, anyhow? It will cost a pile and don't you forget it. Mr. Lestrade, if this is your suggestion, I sure don't think much of it."

Lestrade was annoyed and showed it. But a lifelong training in suavity came to his rescue. "You understand, of course, that as soon as news of the project gets abroad, the whole valley will fill with prospective landowners and they'll take up their part of the burden."

"Maybe they will, and maybe they won't," Lin said. "Seems like there's a lot of guesswork in that. And when you build water ditches you don't want to do any guessing."

"As for that," Lestrade said, "I've already had an engineer estimate the cost. I'm afraid, Lin, that you're a little shortsighted on this water situation. I think the settlers have more faith than you've got."

"That's the point," Lin said. "They've got water on the brain and they'll rush into all sorts of foolish things."

"Let them judge whether it's foolish or not," Judge Henry shouted. His pride had been sadly punctured by Ballou's questioning of his judgment and he viewed the young man with increased dislike.

"They can judge all they please," Lin said, '"but not before I've done a little campaigning myself. I don't like the notion and I'll tell them why."

"Why should you concern yourself?" Lestrade said sharply.

Lin looked the big man directly in the face. "Mr. Lestrade, I was born and raised hereabouts and I've seen a heap of suffering from this dry-land farming. Maybe I'm a fool, but I can't stand by and see all these folks rush into crazy ideas. They're my kind of people, that's why."

Gracie, who had been listening with troubled eyes, broke in. "No more, you folks. I'll not have my supper spoiled this way. Stop your arguing."

And so the meal ended in a truce. The men retired to the porch while Gracie prepared for the dance. Judge Henry became so interested in his talk with Lestrade that he forgot about hitching up and had to be sent to the job by his daughter after she was ready.

The Saturday night dance at the cross-roads school was almost the only recreation the valley had and consequently it was the gathering point for all those within forty miles. The younger ones, like Lin and Gracie, came to enjoy themselves, while the older men and women sat around the wall and talked. Neighbor met neighbor to thresh out dickers. Families who had grown up and separated to different parts of the country were brought in touch once more. And while the fiddles scraped and the guitar strings twanged and the partners swung around the floor, the news and the gossip of all four corners of the region shuttled back and forth.

When Lin and Gracie arrived, the dance had already been started and the first few numbers run off. The judge wandered over to meet some old friend and promptly began to talk water. Lestrade, bowing and shaking hands, was occupied for a moment. But he shook himself free from the crowd to overtake Gracie and lay a hand on her shoulder.

"Gracie, I'm going to demand the privilege of this first dance. Lin, he's a patient fellow and can wait."

"Mr. Lestrade, I'm sorry. I gave him the first two. We always dance the first two. If you'd care to have the third—"

For once in his life Lestrade made a poor show. He bobbed his head up and down and said, "Certainly," in a half-angry tone and wheeled away. Lin, suppressing a smile, led Gracie into the moving couples.

"He's got no right using my first name like that!" said she, flaring up. "I don't like it."

Lin didn't answer, being too busy taking care of himself and his partner. There were a great many other things in the world he did better than dancing. Unlike most men of the valley, he had been left alone at an early age and in the years that followed he had fended for himself at almost every outdoor job. In fact, only since Gracie Henry's smile had securely captured him had he been inside a dance hall. Therefore, he often missed the beat of the music and he would shuffle one foot, then the other, while the sweat worked up above his collar and he swore savagely to himself. But Gracie never seemed to mind. She hummed the tune with the fiddles and she cast her shining eyes on this couple and that, always thoroughly enjoying herself.

Yet, this evening, as their first dance ended and the second one began, she seemed to lose a measure of her happiness. Her eyes clouded and presently she raised her hand to Lin's aim, speaking in a puzzled manner.

"Lin, why are folks looking at us so queerly? I've caught several doing it. Seems like they won't meet my eyes, either. Is there something wrong with my dress?"

Lin Ballou evaded her glance. "Why, no, Gracie. You look as pretty as a picture, and that's a fact. Guess they wonder why you put up with my clodhopping."

"Don't be foolish. They've seen us before. No, it's not that. It gives me the strangest feeling."

Lin shut his mouth. He had noticed this attention the moment he entered the schoolhouse, and quickly divined what it meant. The news of Offut's rebuff had got this far and passed from ear to ear. The thought of it filled him with anger that he struggled to suppress. He lost the sound of the music and brought up against a wall. Gracie stepped back, smiling at his awkwardness until she saw his face. Then the music stopped and Lestrade came up, once more his jovial self.

"No excuse this time, Gracie. It's the third dance." He led her away into the trouping couples.

Lin, thankful for the respite, moved toward the door and bumped against a freckled, red-thatched fellow of his own age.

"Hello, Pete," he said.

"'Lo," Pete said coolly, and moved off.

Lin made his way into the open and through a lane of trees to the gathered wagons. Wiping his forehead, he sat down on a tongue and stared across the valley to where the dim outline of the mesa stood forth. There was no moon and the scattered stars gave no light to the earth. Yet he could see in his mind every outline of that mesa, every trail and gully.

Maybe, he told himself, with a fresh touch of bitterness, I'd better saddle up and get back where I belong. Blamed little good I'll ever do by staying here now. Well, I got to play the hand out. Gracie, kid, your'e going to have a hard time...

A foot struck the wagon tongue and a match burst like a bomb directly in front. By the glow of it he saw Beauty Chatto's evil, swarthy face.

"Thinking it over, Lin?" the man asked in a voice thickened and blurred by whisky. "Coming 'round to my point of view? Better do it."

"Beauty, I'm not in any humor to be kidded. We threshed this matter out a couple hours ago."

Chatto had worked himself into a more belligerent frame of mind. "Now, look here, Lin, do you figure to declare war? Like I say, it don't do nothing but stir up trouble when a guy's got to fall back on gunplay, and I'd just as soon live and let live. But me and Nig is tired of your snooping. Gimme an answer now. Peace or trouble?"

"Going into the mesa tomorrow, Beauty. That's my answer."

"All right, by God!" Chatto growled. "You made yourself a bed to lie in. I'm serving notice now. Nig and me will shoot on sight."

Lin was silent for a time. "All right, Beauty," he said finally. "Have it your own way. But you better be well covered when you start the fireworks."

Suddenly his attention was diverted to the schoolhouse. The music had stopped some time back and a man's voice had taken up the interval. Lin, preoccupied with other matters, had given it little consideration. Now, as the voice stopped, it seemed as if bedlam had broken loose. A tremendous cheering burst out, from both men and women. Somebody rushed from the place and fired a gun. Feet stamped on the floor and the board walls rattled imder pounding fists. Lin and Chatto, moved by a common curiosity, walked back to the door and looked in.

The crowd was packed loosely toward one end of the hall where James J. Lestrade and the judge were standing on chairs. The judge's face was scarlet with satisfaction, and Lestrade had his fingers hooked in his vest, beaming at everybody. After a while the noise quieted down and he spoke what appeared to be the last words of a speech.

"And so, as our good friend Judge Henry has said, we're on the road to prosperity at last. Let's set a formal meeting for tomorrow night at this same place and get every last homesteader to come. We'll draw up articles on the spot and then we'll start work. Why, folks, there's a fortune ahead for us all!"

Lin jumped through the door and up on a bench, shouting at the top of his voice to attract the crowd his way. "Wait a minute—wait a minutel Now, just before you folks all stampede toward this siren's call, I want to ask one question. Just one single question."

There was a quick switching of interest, a craning of heads. Even then he saw that nothing he might say would ever change their temper or subdue the leaping optimism in their hearts. They had fought so long with so little success; they had nourished the idea so tenaciously that some day water would come to them that now they were in but one state of mind. Judge Hemy was swinging his hands up and down, on the verge of apoplexy. Lestrade had turned to frowning disfavor. In the moment's lull Lin put his question.

"I want to ask you folks this: Where—is the—money—coming from—for this project?" He spaced the words and emphasized them with a thrust of his finger. A murmur, a kind of breathless rustle went from man to man, and he hurried on. "How much do you think it costs to build an irrigation system? If the United States Government has passed us by, what makes you figure a parcel of green homesteaders can turn the trick?"

And then he was overwhelmed by such a shouting and booing as he had never before heard. It poured upon his head in ever- increasing force. As it died down, men began to move swiftly upon his vantage point, and he heard one voice and another saying, "What's biting your nose?" "You're no farmer—you're a prospector!" And at last came the words he had feared would come. "Go on back to your cows! Cows! Yeah—what brand do you like best?"

He saw Gracie Henry's face in that unreasoning multitude. Never before had it been so white and drawn. And right beneath his feet Beauty Chatto stared at him with mouth agape, like a man who has found his well formed opinions suddenly betray him. The foremost rank of men bore down, and Lin felt the bench sway. He was picked up bodily, struck at and badly shaken. Whirled around and shoved and pulled, he went staggering through the door, and then, as darkness protected him, he heai'd Lestrade's voice calling out. The men went inside and left him alone.

He spent a moment pulling his clothes back into shape. Then, sadly and quietly, he got his horse and turned homeward. Gracie would wonder what had happened—but the judge must take care of that. As for himself, there was but one thing left to do.

Well, they know how I feel about it, anyway, he thought. And some day those words will bear fruit. God, I'd like to find the man who shouted 'cows' at me! But the eggs are busted now, and maybe some good will come of it.

He reached his house, fried himself a meal and packed his lead horse. Within an hour he was striking eastward toward the high mesa, taking care now and then to stop and put his ear to the ground. He wanted no one following. What he was about to do had to be done without observation.