STILL JIM

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[Illustration: "AND THE FLAG FLUTTERED LIGHTLY BEHIND THEM AND THEDESERT WHISPERED ABOVE THEIR HEADS. "--_Page 369_]

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STILL JIM

By HONORÉ WILLSIE

AUTHOR OF"The Heart of the Desert, " Etc. 

A. L. BURT COMPANYPUBLISHERS · NEW YORK

PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY

Copyright, 1915, byFREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY

Copyright, 1914, 1915, byTHE RIDGWAY COMPANY

All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign languages

Printed in the United States of America

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CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I. QUARRY 1

II. THE OLD SWIMMING HOLE 14

III. THE BROWNSTONE FRONT 27

IV. JIM FINDS SARA AND PEN 38

V. THE SIGN AND SEAL 52

VI. THE MARATHON 65

VII. THE CUB ENGINEER 75

VIII. THE BROKEN SEAL 93

IX. THE MAKON ROAD 103

X. THE STRENGTH OF THE PACK 118

XI. OLD JEZEBEL ON THE RAMPAGE 133

XII. THE TENT HOUSE 147

XIII. THE END OF IRON SKULL'S ROAD 158

XIV. THE ELEPHANT'S BACK 173

XV. THE HEART OF A DESERT WIFE 181

XVI. THE ELEPHANT'S LOVE STORY 196

XVII. TOO LATE FOR LOVE 210

XVIII. JIM MAKES A SPEECH 224

XIX. THE MASK BALL 235

XX. THE DAY'S WORK 249

XXI. JIM GETS A BLOW 267

XXII. JIM PLANS A LAST FIGHT 277

XXIII. THE SILENT CAMPAIGN 294

XXIV. UNCLE DENNY GETS BUSY 308

XXV. SARA GOES ON A JOURNEY 326

XXVI. THE END OF A SILENT CAMPAIGN 338

XXVII. THE THUMB PRINT 353

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STILL JIM

CHAPTER I

THE QUARRY

 "An Elephant of Rock, I have lain here in the desert for countless ages, watching, waiting. I wonder for what!"

 MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. 

Little Jim sat at the quarry edge and dangled his legs over the derrickpit. The derrick was out of commission because once more the lift cablehad parted. Big Jim Manning, Little Jim's father, was down in the pitwith Tomasso, his Italian helper, disentangling the cables, workingsilently, efficiently, as was his custom. 

Little Jim bit his fingers and watched and scowled in a worried way. Heand his mother hated to have Big Jim work in the quarry. It seemed tothem that Big Jim was too good for such work. Little Jim wanted to leaveschool and be a water boy and his father's helper. Big Jim never seemedto hear the boy's request and Little Jim kept on at school. 

The noon whistle blew just as the cable was once more in running order. Little Jim slid down into the pit with his father's dinner bucket andsat by while his father ate. 

Big Jim Manning was big only in height. He was six feet tall, but lean. He was sallow and given to long silences that he broke with a slow, sarcastic drawl that Little Jim had inherited. Big Jim was forty-fiveyears old. Little Jim was fourteen; tall and lean, like his father, hisface a composite of father and mother. His eyes were large and a cleargray. Even at fourteen he had the half sweet, half gay, wholly wistfulsmile that people watched for, when he grew up. His hair was a warm leafbrown, peculiarly soft and thick. Little Jim's forehead was the foreheadof a dreamer. His mouth and chin were dogged, persistent, energetic. 

When he was not in school, Jim never missed the noon hour at the quarry. He had his father's love for mechanics. He had his father's love for lawand order making, the gift to both of their unmixed Anglo-Saxonancestry. When Big Jim did talk at the noon hour, it was usually to tryto educate his Italian and Polish fellow workmen to his New Englandviewpoint. Little Jim never missed a word. He adored his father. He wasprofoundly influenced by the dimly felt, not understood tragedy of hisfather's life and of the old New England town in which he lived. 

Big Jim spread a white napkin over his knee and poured a cup of steamingsoup from the thermos bottle. Tomasso broke off a chunk of bread andtook an onion from one pocket and a piece of cheese from another. BigJim and 'Masso, as he was called, working shoulder to shoulder, day byday, had developed a sort of liking for each other in spite of the factthat Big Jim held foreigners in utter contempt. 

"Why did you come to America, anyhow, 'Masso?" drawled Big Jim, waitingfor his soup to cool. 

'Masso gnawed his onion and bread thoughtfully. "Maka da mon' quick, here; go backa da old countra rich. "

"What else?" urged Big Jim. 

'Masso looked blank. "I mean, " said Big Jim, "did you like our lawsbetter'n yours? Did you like our ways better?"

'Masso shrugged his shoulders. "Don' care 'bout countra if maka da mon'. Why you come desa countra?"

Big Jim's drawl seemed to bite like the slow gouge of a stone chisel. 

"I was born here, you Wop! This very dirt made the food that made me, understand? I'm a part of this country, same as the trees are. Myforefathers left comfort and friends behind them and came to thiscountry when it was full of Indians to be free. Free! Can you get that?And what good did it do them? They larded the soil with their good sweatto make a place for fellows like you. And what do you care?"

'Masso, who was quick and eager, shook his head. "I work all da time. Imaka da mon. I go home to old countra. That 'nough. Work alla da time. "

Big Jim ate his beef sandwich slowly. Little Jim, chin in palm, satlistening, turning the matter over in his mind. His father tried anotherangle. 

"What started you over here, 'Masso? How'd you happen to think ofcoming?"

'Masso understood this. "Homa, mucha talk 'bout desa landa. However'boda getta da mon over here. I heara da talk but it like a dream, see? I lika da talk but I lika my own Italia, see? But in olda countramany men work for steamship compana. Steamship compana, they needa damon', too, see? They talk to us mucha, fixa her easy, come here easy, getta da job easy, see? Steamship men, they keepa right after me, so Icome, see?"

Big Jim lighted his pipe. "Tell Mama that was a good dinner, Jimmy, " hesaid. "I haven't got anything personal against you, 'Masso, " he went on. "You're a human being like me, trying to take care of your family. Isuppose you can't help it that Italians as a class are a lawless lot ofcut-throats. You certainly are willing workers. But I'd like to bet thatif we'd shut the doors after the Civil War and let those that was inthis country have their chance, this country would have a wholesomergrowth than it has now. I'll bet if they had fifty men in this quarrylike me instead of a hundred like you, it would turn out twice the workit does now. "

"But Dad, they say you can't get real Americans to do this kind ofwork, " said Little Jim. 

"Deal with facts, Jimmy; deal with facts, " drawled his father. "I'mworking here. Will Endicott, John Allen, Phil Chadwick are all daylaborers. Our forefathers founded this government and this town. What'shappened to it and to us? It's too late for us older men to do much. Butyou kids have got to think about it. What's happened to us? What'shappened to this old town? I want you to think about it. "

Little Jim took the dinner bucket and started for home. His father hadnot been talking on a topic new to the Mannings or to the Mannings'friends. Little Jim had been brought up to wonder what was the matterwith his breed, what had happened to Exham. Little Jim's forefathers hadonce held in grant from an English king the land on which the quarrylay. His grandfather had given it up. Farm labor was hard to get. Themortgage had grown heavier and heavier. The land all about was beingbought up by Polish and Italian hucksters who lived on what they couldnot sell and whose wives and children were their farm hands. GrandfatherManning could not compete with this condition. 

Big Jim had gone to New York City in his early twenties. He had had agood high school education and was a first-class mechanic. But somehow, he could not compete. He was slow and thoroughgoing and honest. He couldnot compete with the new type of workman, the man bred to do part work. When Little Jim was five, the Mannings had come back to Exham, with thehope of somehow, sometime, buying back the old farm. 

Little Jim passed the old farmhouse slowly. It was used for a storehousefor quarry supplies now. Yet it still was beautiful. Two great elmsstill shaded the wide portico. The great eaves still sheltered manypaned windows. The delicate balustrade still guarded the curvingstaircase. The dream of Little Jim's life was to live in that great, hospitable mansion. 

He passed with a boy's deliberation down the long street that led towardthe cottage where the Mannings now lived. The street was heavily shadedby gigantic elms. It was lined on either side by fine Colonial houses, set in gardens, some of which still held dials and bricked walks; wide, deep gardens some of which still were ghostly sweet. But the majority ofthe mansions had been turned into Italian tenement houses. The gardenswere garbage heaps. The houses were filthy and disheveled. The look ofthem clutched one's heart with horror and despair, as if one looked on aonce lovely mother turned to a street drabble. 

Little Jim looked and thought with a sense of helpless melancholy thatshould not have belonged to fourteen. When he reached the cottage, hismother, taking the bucket from him, caught the look in the clear grayeyes that were like her own. She had no words for the look. Neverthelessshe understood it immediately. Mrs. Manning was nervous and energetic, with the half-worried, half-wistful face of so many New England women. 

"Jimmy, " she said, "Phil Chadwick just whistled for you. He went to theswimming hole. "

The words were magic. They swept that intangible look from Jim's faceand left it flushed and boyish. 

"Gee!" he exclaimed, "he's early today. Can I have my dinner right off?"

"Yes, " replied his mother, "but remember not to go in until threeo'clock. I'm sure I don't see what keeps all you boys from dying! Andhow you can stand the blood suckers and turtles up there in that mudhole! Goodness! Come, dear, I've cooled off your soup so you can hurry. I knew you'd want to. "

Will Endicott dropped in at the Mannings' that evening. Will was ashort, florid man, younger than Big Jim. Little Jim, his hair still dampand his fingers wrinkled from water soak, laid down his _Youth'sCompanion_. Usually when Will Endicott came there were some livelydiscussions on the immigration question and the tariff. Even had LittleJim wanted to talk, he would not have been allowed to do so. Among theNew Englanders in Exham the old maxim still obtained, "Children are tobe seen and not heard. " But Little Jim always listened eagerly. 

Endicott looked excited tonight. But he had no news about the tariff. 

"There's a boy at my house!" he exclaimed. "He just came. Nine pounds!Annie is doing fine. "

"Oh!" cried Mrs. Manning, while Big Jim shook Will's hand solemnly. "Oh, goodness! I didn't know--Why I thought tomorrow--Well, I guess I'll goright over now. Goodness----" and still exclaiming, she hurried out intothe summer dusk. 

"That's great, Will!" said Big Jim. "I wish I could afford to have adozen. But they cost money, these kids. I suppose you'll be like me, never be able to afford but the one. "

"He's awful strong, " said Will, abstractedly. "To hear him yell, you'dthink he was twins. Looks like me, too. Red as a beet and fat. "

"Must be a beauty, " said Big Jim. "That Wop that works with me has sevenchildren about a year apart. Doesn't worry him at all. He just movesinto a cheaper place, cuts down on food and clothes and takes anotherone out of school and sets him to work. They're growing up like Indians, lawless little devils. A fine addition to the country! I was reading theother day that by the law of averages a man has got to have fourchildren to be pretty sure of his line surviving. And it said that weNew Englanders have the smallest birth rate in the civilized worldexcept France, which is the same as ours. And we've got the biggestproportion of foreigners of any part of America now, up here. "

Will came out of the clouds for a moment. "I've been telling you thatfor years. What's the matter with us, anyhow?"

Big Jim shrugged his shoulders. "All like you and me, I suppose. If wecan't give a child a decent chance, we won't have 'em. And theseforeigners have cut down wages so's we can hardly support one, let alonetwo. "

Endicott rose. "I just happened to think. I'm going to borrow Chadwick'sscales and weigh him again. They're better than mine. "

Big Jim chuckled and filled his pipe. Then he sighed. "We've got to go, Jimmy. The old New Englander is as dead as the Indian. We arehas-beens. "

"But why?" urged Little Jim. "I don't feel like a has-been. What's madeus this way? Why don't you and the rest do something?"

"You'd have to change our skins, " replied his father, "to make us fightthese foreigners on their own level. I'm going to bed. No use waitingfor Mama. There's a hard day ahead in the quarry tomorrow. That breakset us back on a rush order. The boss was crazy. I told him as I toldhim forty times before that he'd have to get a new derrick, but hewon't. Not so long as he's got me to piece and contrive and make thingsdo. 

"I tried to talk 'Masso and the rest into striking for it today, butthey don't care anything about the equipment. It's something bigger thanI can get at. It isn't only this quarry. It's everywhere I work. Alwaysthese foreigners are willing to work in such conditions as we Americanscan't stand. Everywhere twenty of 'em waiting to undercut our pay. Andthe big men bank on this very thing to make themselves rich. You'dbetter go after your mother, Jimmy. This village ain't safe for a womanafter dark the way it was before the Italians came. I'm going to bed. "

The next night at supper Big Jim was very silent. When he had eaten hisslice of cake he said in his slow way, "No more cake for a while, Iguess, Mama. "

Mrs. Manning looked up in her nervous, startled manner. 

"What's the matter, Jim?"

"Well, I went with my usual kick to the boss about the derrick and hetold me to take it or leave it. That work was slacking up so he'ddecided on a ten per cent. Cut in wages. I don't know but what I'dbetter quit and look for something else. "

"Oh, no, no!" exclaimed Mrs. Manning. She had been through many, manyperiods of job hunting since her marriage. "Keep your job, Jim. Nextweek is September and winter will be here before we know it. We'llmanage somehow. "

"I'll not go to school, " cried Little Jim. "I'll get a job. Please, Dad, let me!"

"You'll stay in school, " replied Big Jim in his best stone chisel drawl, "as long as I have strength to work. And if I can send you throughcollege, you'll go. Don't you ever think of anything, Jimmy, but thatyou are to have a thorough education? If anything happens to me you areto get an education if you have to sweep the streets to do it. That'sthe New England idea. Educate the children at whatever cost. I had ahigh school education and you'll have a college course if I live. And ifI don't live, get it for yourself. I'll have another cup of tea, please, Mama. "

"Well, it makes me sick!" exclaimed Little Jim with one of his rareoutbursts of feeling, "to have you and mama working so hard and me donothing but feed the chickens and chop wood. I'll give up the _Youth'sCompanion_, anyhow. "

Mrs. Manning looked horrified. The _Companion_ was as much a familyinstitution as the dictionary. "How do you think you are going to bereally educated, Jimmy, unless you read good things? Your father and Iwere brought up on the _Companion_ and you'll keep right on with it. I'll get cheaper coffee, Papa, and we can give up cream. Ten per cent. That will make a difference of twenty cents a day. I'll turn my wintersuit. "

"I'll give up tobacco for a while, " said Big Jim. "I was thinking aboutit, anyhow. It's got so it bites my tongue. I don't need any new winterthings, but Jimmy's got to look decent. My father would turn over in hisgrave if he thought I couldn't keep the last Manning dressed decent. Maybe we ought to give up this cottage, Mama. The Higgins cottage ispretty good but it hasn't got any bathroom. "

"If you think I'm going to let Jimmy grow up without a bathroom, you'remistaken, " replied Mrs. Manning. "I've got a chance to send jelly andpreserves to Boston and I'm going to do it. Don't worry, Papa. We'llmake it. "

When Little Jim took his father's dinner to him the next day, 'Masso'sboy Tony was sharing 'Masso's lunch. His face was dust smeared. 

"I gotta job, " announced Tony. 

'Masso nodded. "He bigga kid now. Not go da school any more. Boss, hegiva da cut. I bringa da Tony, getta da job as tool boy. Boss, he fireda Yankee boy. Tony, he work cheaper. "

"He's too small to work, " said Big Jim. "You'd ought to keep him inschool and give him a chance. "

"Chance for what?" asked 'Masso. 

"Chance to grow into a decent American citizen, " snarled Big Jim withthe feeling he had had so often of late, the sense of having his back tothe wall while the pack worried him in front. 

Tony looked up quickly. He was a brilliant faced little chap. "I am anAmerican!" he cried. "I'll be rich some day. "

Big Jim looked from 'Masso's child to his own. Then he looked off overthe browning summer fields, beyond the quarry. There lay the land thathis fathers had held in grant from an English king. But the fields thathad built Big Jim's flesh and blood were dotted with Italian huts. Thelane in which Big Jim's mother had met his father, returning crippledfrom Antietam, was blocked by a Polish road house. 

Little Jim didn't like the look on his father's face. He spoke his firstthought to break the silence. 

"Can't I stay for a while, Dad, and watch you load the big stones?"

"If your mother won't worry and you'll keep out of the way, " answeredBig Jim, rising as the whistle blew. 

To industry, the cheapest portion of its equipment is its inexhaustiblehuman labor supply. It was Big Jim who was sufficiently intelligent tokeep demanding a new derrick. It was Big Jim who was adept in managingthe decrepit machinery and so it was he who was sent to the dangerspots, he having the keenest wits and the best knowledge of the dangerspots. 

Little Jim, sitting with his long legs dangling over the derrick pit, watched his father and 'Masso tease the derrick into swinging the greatblocks to the flat car for the rush order. 

The thing happened very quickly, so quickly that Little Jim could notjump to his feet and start madly down into the pit before it was allover. The great derrick broke clean from its moorings and dropped acrossthe flat car, throwing Big Jim and 'Masso and the swinging blocktogether in a ghastly heap. 

It took some time to rig the other derrick to bear on the situation. Little Jim dropped to the ground and managed to grip his father's hand, protruding from under the débris. But the boy could not speak. He onlysobbed dryly and clung desperately to the inert hand. 

At last Big Jim and 'Masso were laid side by side upon the brown grassat the quarry edge. 'Masso's chest was broken. The priest got to himbefore the doctor. Had 'Masso known enough, before he choked, he mighthave said:

"It doesn't matter. I have done a real man's part. I have worked to thelimit of my strength and I shall survive for America through myfertility. What I have done to America, no one knows. "

But 'Masso was no thinker. Before he slipped away, he only said somefutile word to the priest who knelt beside him. 'Masso never had gottenvery far from the thought of his Maker. 

Big Jim, lying on the border of the fields where his fathers had dreamedand hoped and worked, looked hazily at Little Jim, and tried to saysomething, but couldn't. Once more the sense of having his back to thewall, the pack suffocating him, closed in on him, blinded him, andmerged with him into the darkness into which none of us has seen. 

Had Big Jim been able to clarify the chaos of thoughts in his mind andhad he had a longer time for dying, he might have done the thing farmore dramatically. He merely rasped out his life, a bloody, voiceless, broken thing on the golden August fields, with his chaos of thoughtsunspoken. 

He might, had things been otherwise, have seen the long, sad glory ofhumanity's migrations; might have caught for an unspeakable second avision of that never ceasing, never long deflected on-moving of humanlife that must continue, regardless of race tragedy, as long as humanscrave food either for the body or the soul. He might have seen himselfas symbolizing one of those races that slip over the horizon intooblivion, unprotesting, only vaguely knowing. And seeing this thing, BigJim might have paused and looking into the face of the horde that waspressing him over the brim, he might have said:

"We who are about to die, salute thee!"

But Big Jim was not dramatic. Little Jim never knew what his fathermight have said. Instinct told the boy when the end had come. His drysobs changed to the abandoned tears of childhood as he ran down thestreet of elms and besotted mansions to tell his mother. 

CHAPTER II

THE OLD SWIMMING HOLE

 "The same sand that gave birth to the coyote and the eagle gave birth to the Indian and to me. I wonder why!"

 MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. 

Little Jim and his mother were left very much alone by Big Jim's death. Little Jim was literally the last of the Mannings. Mrs. Manning's onlyrelative, her sister, had died when Jim was a baby. There was no one towhom Mrs. Manning felt that she could turn for help. 

Jim pleaded to be allowed to quit school and go to work. 

"I'm fourteen, Mama, and as big as lots of men. I can take care of you. "

Mrs. Manning had not cried much. Her heartbreak would not give intotears easily. But at Jim's words she broke into hysterical sobs. 

"Jimmy! Jimmy! I don't see how you can ever think of such a thing afterall Papa said to you. Almost his last advice to you was about getting aneducation. He was so proud of your school work. Why, all I've got tolive for now is to carry out Papa's plans for you. "

Jimmy stood beside his mother. He was taller than she. Suddenly, withboyish awkwardness, he pulled the sobbing little woman to him and leanedhis young cheek on her graying hair. 

"Mama, I'll make myself into a darned college professor, if you justwon't cry!" he whispered. 

For several days after the funeral, Jim wandered about the house andyard fighting to control his tears when he came upon some suddenreminder of his father; the broken rake his father had mended the weekbefore; a pair of old shoes in the wood shed; one of his father's pipeson the kitchen window ledge. The nights were the worst, when the pictureof his father's last moments would not let the boy sleep. It seemed toJim that if he could learn to forget this picture a part of his griefwould be lifted. It was the uselessness of Big Jim's death that made theboy unboyishly bitter. He could not believe that any other death everhad been so needless. It was only in the years to come that Jim was tolearn how needlessly, how unremittingly, industry takes its toll oflives. 

Somehow, Jim had a boyish feeling that his father had had many things tosay to him that never had been said; that these things were very wiseand would have guided him. Jim felt rudderless. He felt that it wasincumbent on him to do the things that his father had not been able todo. Vaguely and childishly he determined that he must make good for theMannings and for Exham. Poor old Exham, with its lost ideals!

It was in thinking this over that Jim conceived an idea that became agreat comfort to him. He decided to write down all the advice that hecould recall his father's giving him, and when his mother became lessbroken up, to ask her to tell him all the plans his father might havehad for him. 

So it was that a week or so after her husband's death, Mrs. Manningfound one of Jim's scratch pads on the table in his room, with acarefully printed title on the cover:

 MY FATHER'S ADVICES TO ME. 

After she had wiped the quick tears from her eyes, she read the fewpages Jim had completed in his sprawling hand:

"My father said to me, 'Jimmy, never make excuses. It's always too latefor excuses. '

"He said, 'A liar is a first cousin to a skunk. There isn't a worsecoward than a liar. '

"He said to me, 'Don't belly-ache. Stand up to your troubles like aman. '

"My father said, 'Hang to what you undertake like a hound to a warmscent. '

"He said to me, 'Life is made up of obeying. What you don't learn fromme about that, the world will kick into you. The stars themselves obey alaw. God must hate a law breaker. '

"My father said, 'Somehow us Americans are quitters. '

"My mother said my father said, 'I want Jimmy to go through college. Iwant him to marry young and have a big family. '

"The thing my father said to me oftenest lately was, 'Jimmy, be cleanabout women. Some day you will know what I mean when I say that sex isenergy. Keep yourself clean for your life work and your wife andchildren. '"

Mrs. Manning read the pages over several times, then she laid the bookdown and stood staring out of the window. 

"Oh, he was a good man!" she whispered. "He was a good man! If Jimmycould have had him just two years more! I don't know how to teach himthe things a man ought to know. A boy needs his father. ----Oh, my love!My love----"

Down below, Jim was leaning on the front gate. His chum, Phil Chadwick, was coming slowly up the street. The boys had not been near Jim sincethe funeral. Jim had become a person set apart from their boy world. Noone appreciates the dignity of grief better than a boy, or underneathhis awkwardness has a finer way of showing it. Phil's mother, to hisunspeakable discomfort, had insisted now that he go call on Jim. 

Phil, his round face red with embarrassment, approached the gate alittle sidewise. 

"Hello, Still!" he said casually. 

"Hello, Pilly!" replied Jim, blushing in sympathy. 

There was a pause, then said Phil, leaning on the gate, "Diana's got herpups. One's going to be a bulldog and two of 'em are setters. U-u-u--want to come over and see 'em and choose yours?"

Jim's face was quivering. It was his father who had persuaded his motherthat Jim ought to have one of Diana's pups. Mrs. Manning felt towarddogs much as she might have toward hyenas. 

"I--I--guess not today, Pilly!"

Another long pause during which the lads swung the gate to and fro andlooked in opposite directions. A locust shrilled from the elm tree. Finally Phil said:

"Still, you gotta come up to the swimming hole. It'll do you good. He--he'd a wanted you to--to--to do what you could to cheer up. Come on, old skinny. Tell your mother. We'll keep away from the other kids. Comeon. You gotta do something or you'll go nutty in your head. "

Jim turned and went into the house. His mother forestalled his request. 

"If Phil wants you to go swimming, dear, go on. It will do you good. Don't stay in too long. "

Jim and Phil walked up the road to the old Allen place. They climbed thestile into a field where the aftermath of the clover crop was richlygreen and vibrating with the song of cricket and katydid. The path thatthe boys followed had been used in turn by Indian and Puritan. The fieldstill yielded an occasional hide scraper or stone axe. 

There was a pine grove at the far edge of the field. In the center ofthe grove was the pond that had for centuries been the swimming pool forboys, Indian and white. Ground pine and "checkerberry" grew abundantlyin the grove. Both boys breathed deep of the piney fragrance and filledtheir mouths with pungent "checkerberry" leaves. The path, deep worn bymany bare feet, circled round the great pines to the clearing where thepond lay. It was black with the shadows of the grove where it was notblue and white in mirroring the September sky. Lily pads fringed thebrim. Moss and a tender, long grass grew clear to the water's edge. 

Several boys were undressing near the ancient springboard. They lookedembarrassed and stopped their laughter when they saw Jim. He and Philgot into their swimming trunks quickly and followed each other in aclean dive into the pool. They swam about in silence for a time and thenlanded on the far side and lay in the sun on moss and pine needles. 

The beauty and sweetness of the place were subtle balm to Jim. Andsurely if countless generations of boy joy could leave association, theold swimming hole should have spoken very sweetly to Jim. The swimminghole was a boy sanctuary. The water was too shallow for men. Littlegirls were not allowed to invade the grove except in early spring fortrailing arbutus. The oldest men in Exham told that their grandfathers, as boys, had sought the swimming hole as the adult seeks his club. 

Jim looked with interest at his legs. "I've got six. How many have you, Pilly?"

Phil counted the brown bloodsuckers that clung to his fat calves. "Seven. Mean cusses, ain't they. "

Jim worked with a sharp edged stone, scraping his thin shanks. "You'vegot fat to spare. They've had enough off of me today. "

"I remember how crazy I was first time they got on me. Felt as if I hadsnakes. " Phil rooted six of the suckers off his legs and paused at theseventh. "He's as skinny as you are, Still. I'll give him two minutesmore to finish a square meal. "

The two boys lay staring out at the pond. 

"Have you gotta go to work, Still?" asked Phil. 

"Yes, " replied Jim. "Mother says I can't, though. "

Phil waited more or less patiently. His mates had long since learnedthat Jim's silences were hard to break. 

"But I'm going to get a job in the quarry as soon as I can keep fromgetting sick at my stomach every time I see a derrick. "

"My dad says your--he--he always planned to send you through college, "said Phil. 

Jim nodded. "I'll get through college. See if I don't. But I won't letmy mother support me. I've got a lot of things to finish up for him. "

"What things?" asked Phil. 

"Well, " Jim hesitated for words, "he worried a lot because all the realAmericans are dying off or going, somehow, and he always said it was uskids' business to find out why. That's the chief job. "

"I don't see what you can do about it, " said Phil. "That's a foolishthing to worry about. Why----"

A boy screamed on the opposite side of the pond. It was so differentfrom the shouts and laughter of the moment before that Jim and Philjumped to their feet. Across the swimming hole a naked boy was dancingup and down, screaming hysterically, "Take 'em off! Take 'em off! Take 'em off!"

"It's the new minister's kid, Charlie, " laughed Phil. "The fellows havegot the bloodsuckers on him. Ain't he the booby? Told me he was fifteenand he's bigger'n you are. Screams like a girl. "

Jim stood staring, his hand shielding his gray eyes from the sun. Acrossthe pond, the boys were doubled up with laughter, watching theminister's son writhe and tear at his naked body. Suddenly, Jim shotround the edge of the pond, followed by Phil. A dozen naked boys hoppedjoyfully around the twisting Charlie. They were of all ages, from eightto sixteen. 

When Jim ran up to the new boy, his mates shouted: "Don't butt in, now, Jim. Don't butt in. He's a darned sissy. "

Jim did not reply. Charlie was considerably larger than he. He had afinely muscled pink and white body, liberally dotted now with wrigglingbrown suckers. This was a familiar form of hazing with the Exham boys. There was a horror in a first experience with the little brown peststhat usually resulted in a mild form of hysteria very pleasing to theyoung spectators. But Charlie was in an agony of loathing, far ahead ofanything the boys had seen. 

As Jim ran up, Charlie struck at him madly and the boys yelled indelight. Jim turned on them. 

"Shut up!" he shouted. "Shut up _now_!"

Thin and tall, his boyish ribs showing, his damp hair tossed back fromhis beautiful gray eyes that were now black with anger, Jim dominatedthe crowd. There was immediate silence, broken only by Charlie's wildsobs. 

"Take 'em off! Take 'em off!"

"He's going to have a fit!" exclaimed Phil. 

Charlie's lips were blue and foam flecked. Again as Jim approached him, the minister's boy planted a blow on his ribs that made Jim spin. 

"Charlie!" cried Jim. "_Shut up!_"

The same peculiarly commanding note that had silenced his mates piercedthrough Charlie's hysteria. He paused for a moment, and in that momentJim said, "Hold your breath and they can't draw blood. I'll have 'emoff you in a second. "

"C-c-can't they?" sobbed Charlie. 

"Hold your breath and I'll show you, " said Jim. "Here, Phil, take hold. "

As they stripped the squirming suckers, Jim kept a hand on Charlie'sarm. "Can you fight, kid?" he asked. "You've got muscle. You'd betterlick the fellow that started this on you or you'll never hear the end ofit. "

The blue receded from the older boy's lips. He had a fine, sensitiveface. "I can fight, " he replied. "But I fight fellows and not snakes orworms. "

Jim nodded as he pulled off the last sucker. Then he turned to the boys, his hand still on Charlie's arm. He spoke in his usual drawl:

"They's a difference between hazing a fellow and torturing him. Somemighty gritty people can't stand snakes or suckers. You kids ought touse sense. Who started this?"

The biggest boy in the crowd, Fatty Allen, answered: "I did. And if yourfather hadn't just died I'd lick the stuffing out of you, Still, forbutting in. "

A shout of derision went up from the boys. Jim's lips tightened. "Youlick the new kid first, " he answered, "then tackle me. Get after him, Charlie!"

Charlie, quite himself again, leaped toward Fatty and the battle was on. 

There had been, unknown to the boys, an interested spectator to thisentire scene. Just as Charlie's screams had begun, a heavy set man, ruddy and well dressed, with iron gray hair and black lashed, blue eyes, had paused beside a pine tree. It was a vividly beautiful picture thathe saw; the pine set pool, rush and pad fringed, and the naked boys, nowgathered about the struggling two near the ancient springboard. One ofthe smaller boys, moving about to get a better view of the battle, camewithin arm reach of the stranger, who clutched him. 

"Who's this boy they call Still?" he asked. "Stand up here on thisstump. I'll brace you. "

The small boy heaved a sigh of ecstasy at his unobstructed view. "It'sStill Jim Manning. His father just got killed. He's boss of our gang. "

"But he's not the biggest, " said the stranger. 

"Naw, he ain't the biggest, but he can make the fellows mind. He don'ttalk much but what he says goes. "

"Can he lick the big fellow?"

"Who? Fatty Allen? Bet your life! Still's built like steel wire. "

"What did he start this fight for?" asked the man. 

"Aw, can't you see they'd never let up on this new kid after he belleredso, unless he licked Fatty? Gee! What a wallop! That Charlie kid isgoing to lick whey out of Fatty. "

"So Still is boss?" mused the stranger. "Could he stop that fight, now?"

"Sure, " answered the child, "but he wouldn't. "

"We'll see, " said the stranger. He crossed over to the ring of boys andtouched Jim on the shoulder. "I want to speak to you, Manning. "

Jim looked at the stranger in astonishment, then answered awkwardly, "Can you wait? I've got to referee this fight. "

"You will have to come now, " said the man. "Your mother said to comeback at once, with me. "

Jim walked into the ring, between the two combatants. "Drop it, fellows. I've got to go home. We'll finish this fight tomorrow. Fatty can tackleme then, too. "

There were several protests but Fatty had had enough. He was glad of theopportunity to dive into the pond. One after the other the boys ran upthe springboard until only Jim and the stranger were left. The manwalked back into the grove and in a moment Jim, in his knickerbockersand blouse, joined him. 

"I'm glad to see you can obey, as well as boss, me boy, " said the man. "Your mother says you don't know that a few days ago she advertised inthe N. Y. _Sun_ for a position as housekeeper. I liked the ad and cameup to see her. I'm a lawyer in New York, a widower. I like your mother. She's a lady to the center of her. But when she told me she had a boyyour age, I felt dubious. She wanted to send for you but I insisted oncoming meself. I wanted to see you among boys. Me name is MichaelDennis. "

Jim flushed painfully. "I don't want my mother to work like that. I cansupport her. "

"I'm glad that you feel that way, me boy. But on the other hand, you'renot old enough to support her the way she can support herself and you, too. "

"I'll never let my mother support me!" cried Jim. 

"What can you do to prevent it?" asked Mr. Dennis. "Wouldn't you like tolive in New York?"

Jim hesitated. Dennis put his hand on Jim's shoulder. "I like you, meboy. I never thought to want another child about me house. Come, we'lltalk it over with your mother. "

Jim followed into the cottage sitting room, where his mother eyed thetwo anxiously. 

"I thought something must have happened, " she said. "Did you havetrouble finding the pond?"

Mr. Dennis smiled genially. "Not a bit! I was just getting acquaintedwith your boy. He's quite a lad, Mrs. Manning, and I'm going to tell youI'll be glad to have him in me house. Now I'll just tell you what mehouse is like and what we'll have to expect of each other. "

After an hour's talk Dennis said: "I will give you fifty dollars a monthand board and lodging for the lad. "

Mrs. Manning flushed with relief. Jim, who had not said a word sincecoming into the house, spoke suddenly in his father's own drawl:

"I don't want anyone to give me my keep. I'll take care of the furnaceand do the work round the house you pay a man to do, and if that isn'tenough to pay for keeping me, I'll work for you in your officeSaturdays. "

Mr. Dennis looked at the tall boy keenly, then said whimsically, "Well, I thought you'd been smitten dumb. "

"He's very still, Jim is, except when he's fearfully worked up. All theMannings are that way, " said his mother. 

Mr. Dennis nodded. "The house takes lots of care. Your mother will get amaid to help her and I'll let the man go who has been doing janitorservice for me. With this arrangement, I'll make your mother's salary$65 a month. "

And so the decision was made. 

It was the last week in September when Jim and his mother left Exham. The day before they left the old town, Jim tramped doggedly up thestreet toward the old Manning mansion. He had not been there since hisfather's death. 

When he reached the dooryard he stopped, pulled off his cap and stoodlooking at the doorway that had welcomed so many Mannings and sped somany more. The boy stood, erect and slender, the wind ruffling his thickdark hair across his dreamer's forehead, his energetic jaw set firmly. Now and again tears blinded his gray eyes, but he blinked them backresolutely. 

Jim must have stood before the door of his old home for half an hour, asilent, lonely young figure at whom the quarry men glanced curiously. When the whistle blew five Jim made an heroic effort and turned andlooked at the derrick, again spliced into place. He shuddered but forcedhimself to look. 

It was after sunset when Jim finally turned away. It was many yearsbefore he came to this place again. Yet Exham had made its indelibleimprint on the boy. The convictions that had molded his first fourteenyears were to mold his whole life. Somehow he felt that his father hadbeen a futile sacrifice to the thing that was destroying New England andthat old New England spirit which he had been taught to revere. What thething was he did not know. And yet, with his boyish lips trembling, hepromised the old mansion to make good for his father and for Exham--poorold Exham, with its lost ideals!

CHAPTER III

THE BROWNSTONE FRONT

 "Coyote, eagle, Indian, I have seen countless generations of them fulfill their destinies and disappear. I wonder when my turn will come. "

 MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. 

Jim and his mother did not feel like strangers when they reached NewYork. Mrs. Manning knew the city well and Jim, boy-like, was overjoyedat the idea of being in the great town. 

Mr. Dennis' brownstone front was one of the fine old houses on West 23rdstreet that are fast making way for stores. It was full of red Brusselscarpets and walnut furniture of crinkly design. It had crayonenlargements of Mrs. Dennis and the two small Dennises in the parlor andin the guest room and in Mr. Dennis' room. Jim wondered how Mr. Denniscould be so genial when he had lost so much. 

The third floor had two large rooms opening off a big central room, andthis floor, comfortably furnished, was for the use of Mrs. Manning andJim and the maid. Mrs. Manning solved the maid question by sending backto Exham for Annie Peyton. Annie was about forty. Her mother had beenhousekeeper for Mrs. Manning's mother and Annie was the domestic dayworker for the village. Up in Exham English customs still obtained amongthe old families. Annie was "Peyton" to Mrs. Manning. 

Jim guessed from his own feelings how her position as a servant hurt hismother. She herself never said anything, but Jim noticed that she madeno friends. Mr. Dennis treated her with a very real courtesy and baskedin her perfect housekeeping. 

Jim entered school at once. In his own way, he was a brilliant student. He had the sort of mind that instinctively grasps fundamentalprinciples, and this faculty, combined with a certain mental obstinacyand independence, made him at once the pride and terror of his teachers. He was a very firm rock on which to depend for exhibition purposes, butwhenever he asked questions they were of a searching variety that madehis teachers long to box his ears. 

It was rather a pity that all Jim's spare moments when not in school hadto be spent in janitor service. He missed the companionship of the boysin the public school which, in America, is an almost indispensable partof a boy's education. In his adult life he must meet and understand menand methods of every nationality. New York public schools are veritablecongresses of nations and a boy who plans to go into business gets farmore than mere book learning from them. Jim's poverty cut him out ofathletics and clubs so that all his inherent New England tendency tomental aloofness would have been vastly increased if it had not been forhis summer vacations. 

The first day of his summer vacation, Jim applied for a job. A steelskyscraper was being erected in 42nd street and Jim asked thesuperintendent of construction for work. The superintendent looked atthe lank lad, who now, fifteen, would have appeared eighteen were it notfor his smooth, almost childish face. 

"What kind of work, young fella?" asked the Boss. 

"Anything to start with, " replied Jim, "until we see what I can do. "

"You're as thin as a lath. Ye can get down there with Derrick No. 2 andget some muscle laid on you. A dollar fifty a day is the best I can dofor you. Get along now. "

Jim's brain reeled with joy at the size of his prospective income. Henodded, pulled off his coat, leaving it in the superintendent's officeand found his way to Derrick No. 2. 

The structure was a big one, so big that the exigencies of New Yorktraffic were forcing the company to build in sections. A steel framenearly eighteen stories high was nearly finished at one edge, whileblasting for another portion of the foundation, five stories deep, wasgoing on at the other edge. 

Derrick No. 2 was in the new foundation. Jim's foreman was a Greek. Hiscompanion, with whom he guided the rock that the derrick lifted was aSicilian. The steam drillman whom Jim had to help was a negro. Therewere ten nationalities on the pay roll of the company. Jim had grownaccustomed to feeling in school that New York was not in America, but ina foreign country. Down in the five-story hole in the ground, with theear-shattering batter of the steam riveters above him, the groaning ofthe donkey engines, the tear and screech of the steam drills beside him, with the never ending clatter and chatter of tongues that he could notunderstand about him, Jim often got the sense of suffocation of whichhis father had complained. He detested foreigners, anyhow. There was inJim the race vanity of the Anglo-Saxon which is as profound as it isunconscious. 

Now, with his boyish sweat mingling with that of these alien workers onthe great new structure, Jim wondered how he was going to stand this, summer after summer, until he had his education. They seemed to him sodirty, so stupid, like so many chattering monkeys. To get to know them, to try to understand them, never occurred to him. 

Jim liked the darky, Hank, better than he did the others. To Hank theothers were foreigners as they were to Jim. 

"Don't talk so much. I can't hear ma drill!" yelled Hank in Jim's earone afternoon when the din was at its height. 

Jim flashed his charming smile. "I talk English, anyhow, " he shoutedback, "when I do talk. "

"You'se the stillest white man I ever see. I'se callin' you Still Jim inmy mind. Pretty quick whites and colored folks can't get no jobs no morein this country. Just Bohunks and Wops and Ginnies. Can you watch thedrill one minute while I gits a drink?"

Jim nodded and glanced up at the red spider web that was dotted clear tothe eighteenth floor with black dots of workmen. He looked up at thestreet edge of the gray pit. Black heads peered over the rail, staringidly at the workmen below. Jim felt half a thrill of pride that he was apart of the great work at which they gazed, half a hot sense ofresentment that they stared so stupidly at his discomfort. 

Far above gray stone and red ironwork was the deep blue of the summersky. Jim wondered if the kids in the old swimming hole missed him. Hewished he could lie on his back and talk to Phil Chadwick again. As hestared wistfully upward, a girder on the 18th floor twisted suddenly andswept across a temporary floor, brushing men off like crumbs. Jim sawthree men go hurtling and bounding down, down to the street. He couldnot hear them scream above the din. He felt sick at his stomach andlifted his hand from the drill, expecting the steam to be shut off. Butit was not. 

Hank came back, the whites of his eyes showing a little. "Killed three. All Wops, " he said. "Morgue gets a man a day outa this place. They juststicks 'em outside the board fence and a policeman sends fer aambulance. The blood on these here New York buildings sure oughtahoo-doo 'em. There, you Still Jim, you get a drink o' water. You lookwhite. The iron workers quit fer the day. They always does when a mangits killed. "

That evening Jim did an errand to the tobacco shop for Mr. Dennis. Onhis return to the library with the cigars, Dennis looked at the boyaffectionately. Jim interested him. His faithfulness to his mother, hisquiet ways, his unboyish life, touched the Irishman. 

"You look a little peaked round the gills, Still Jim. Better cut thiswork you're doing and come to me office. I can't pay you so much butI'll make a lawyer of you. "

Jim shook his head. "The work is good for me. The gym teacher said I wasgrowing too fast and to stay outdoors all summer. "

"What's the matter with you, then?" insisted Dennis. 

"I saw three men killed just before quitting time, " said the boy. Thensuddenly his face flushed. "Sometimes I hate it here in New York. Seemsas if I can't stand it. They don't care anything about human beings. Ican't think of New York as anything but a can full of angle worms, allof them crawling over each other to get to the top. "

"Sit down, me boy, " said Dennis. "If little Mike had lived, he'd havebeen just your age, Still Jim. I don't like to think of you as having solittle of a boy's life. Jim, take the summer off and I'll take you tothe seashore. "

Jim smiled a little uncertainly. "I can't leave mama, and the money I'llget this summer will buy my clothes for a year and something for me toput in the bank. I'm all right. It's just that since--since you know Isaw Dad----" and to his utter shame Jim began to sob. He dropped hishead on his arm and Dennis' florid face became more deeply red as helooked at the long thin body and the beautiful brown head shaken bysobs. 

"Good God, Jimmy, don't!" he exclaimed. "Why, you're all shot to pieces, lad. Hold on now, I'll tell you a funny story. No, I won't either. I'lltell you something to take up your mind. Still, do you think your motherwould marry me?"

This had the desired effect. Jim jumped to his feet, forgetting even towipe the tears from his cheeks. 

"She certainly would not!" he cried. "I wouldn't let her. Has she saidshe would?"

"I haven't asked her, " replied Mr. Dennis meekly. "I wanted to talk toyou about it first. Much as I think of her, Jim, I wouldn't marry her ifyou objected. You've been through too much for a kid. "

Jim eyed Mr. Dennis intently. The Irishman was a pleasant, intelligent-looking man. 

"I like you now, " said the boy, his voice catching from his heavysobbing, "but I'd hate you if you tried to take my father's place. Anyway, I don't think mama would even listen to you. What makes you wantto get married again, Mr. Dennis, after--after that?"

Jim looked toward the crayon enlargement above the mantel. 

Dennis answered quickly. "Don't think for a minute I'd try to put anyonein her place. " He nodded toward the sweet-faced woman who was lookingdown at them. "And I wouldn't expect to take your father's place. Iguess your mother and I both know we gave and got the best in life, once, and it only comes once. Only it's this way, Still Jim, me boy. When people pass middle age and look forward to old age, they see itlonely, desperately lonely, and they want company to help them gothrough it. I admire and respect your mother and I think as much of youas if you were me own. But you'll be going off soon to make your ownway. Then your mother and I could look out for each other. I leave thedecision to you, me boy. "

"I can't stand thinking of anybody in my father's place, " repeated Jimhuskily. "I'm--I'm going out for a walk. " And he rushed out of the houseand started north toward 42nd street, his mind a blur of protest. 

The same instinct that sends the workman back to look at the shop onhis Sunday afternoon stroll, urged Jim up to the new skyscraper. Thenight watchman was for driving the lank boy away until Jim explainedthat he worked in the foundation, and was just back to see how it lookedat night. 

"If you want to see a grand sight, " said the old man, "get you up to thetop floor and look out at the city. Take the tile elevator at the back. Tell the man Morrissy sent ye. "

The work in the foundation was going on but not on the steel structure. No one heeded Jim. He reached the 18th floor, where there was a narrowtemporary flooring. Jim sat down on a coil of rope. The boy was badlyshaken. 

No one, unless for the first time tonight, Mr. Dennis, realized how harda nerve shock Jim had had in seeing his father killed. He had kept fromhis mother the horror of the nights that followed the tragedy. She didnot know that periodically, even now, he dreamed the August fields andthe dying men and the bloody derrick over again. She did not know whatutter courage it had taken to join the derrick gang, not for fear forhis own safety, but because of the dread association in his own mind. 

At first, the sense of height made Jim quiver. To master this he fixedhis mind on the details of structure underneath. Line on line thedelicate tracery of steel waiting for its concrete sheathing wassilhouetted below him. The night wind rushed past and he braced himselfautomatically, noting at the same time how the vibration of the steelcobweb was like a marvelous faint tune. The wonder of conception andworkmanship caught the boy's imagination. 

"That's what I'll do, " he said aloud. "I'll build steel buildings likethis. In college, that's what I'll study, reinforced concrete building. I've got to find a profession that'll give me a bigger chance than poorDad had, so I can marry young and have lots and gob-lots of kids. "

The wind increased and Jim slid off the coil of rope and lay flat on hisback, looking up at the sky. It was full of stars and scudding clouds. Jim missed the sky in New York. He lay staring, sailing with the cloudswhile his boyish heart glowed with the stars. 

"I'm not in New York, " he thought. "I'm--I'm out in the desert country. There isn't any noise. There aren't any people. I'm an engineer and I'mbuilding a bridge across a canyon where no one but the birds have evercrossed before. I'm making a place for people to come after me. I'mdiscovering new land for them and fixing it so they can come. "

For half an hour Jim lay and dreamed. He often had wondered what he wasgoing to be as a man. He had planned to be many things, from a milkmanto an Indian fighter. But since his father's death and indeed for sometime before, his mind had taken a bent suggested by Mr. Manning'smelancholy. What was the matter with Exham and the Mannings? Why had hisfather failed? What could he do to make up for the failure? Thesethoughts had colored the boy's dreams. No one can measure the importanceto a child of taking his air castles away from him. Tragedy scars achild permanently. Grown people often forget a heavy loss. 

But tonight, inspired by the wonder of the building and the heavens, Jim's mind slipped its leashings and took its racial bent. Suddenly hewas a maker of trails, a builder in the wilderness. He completed thebridge and then sat up with an articulate, "Gee whiz! I know what I'mgoing to be!"

It seemed a matter of tremendous importance to the boy. He sat withclenched fists and burning cheeks, sensing for the first time one of thehighest types of joy that comes to human beings, that of finding one'spredilection in the work by which one earns one's daily bread. The senseof clean-cut aim to his life was like balm and tonic to the boy'snerves. Something deeper than a New York or a New England influence wasspeaking in Jim now. For the first time, his Anglo-Saxon race, his raceof empire builders, was finding its voice in him. 

Jim rode gaily down the tile elevator, his flashing smile getting avivid response from the Armenian elevator boy. He ran a good part of theway home and burst into the house with a slam, utterly unlike his usualquiet, unboyish steadiness. He was dashing past the library door on hisway upstairs to his mother, when he caught a glimpse of her sitting nearthe library table with Mr. Dennis. He forgot to be astonished at herunwonted presence there. He ran into the room. 

"Mama!" he cried. "Mama! I'm going to be an engineer and go out west andbuild railroads and bridges out where its wild! Aren't you glad?"

Mr. Dennis and Mrs. Manning stared in astonishment at Jim's loquacityand at the glow of his face. His gray eyes were brilliant. His thickhair was wind-tossed across his forehead. Mr. Dennis, being Irish, understood. He rose, shook hands with Jim, his left hand patting theboy's shoulder. 

"You're made for it, Still Jim, me boy, " he said, soberly. "You've theengineer's mind. How'd you come to think of it?"

"Up on top of the skyscraper, " replied Jim lucidly. "Don't you see, Mama? Isn't it great?"

Mrs. Manning was trying to smile, but her lips trembled. She was wishingJim's father could see him now. "I don't understand, Jimmy. But if youlike it, I must. But what shall I do with you out west?"

Jim gasped, whitened, then looked at Mr. Dennis and began to turn red. 

CHAPTER IV

JIM FINDS SARA AND PEN

 "Since time began Indians have climbed my back and have cried their joys and sorrows to the sky. I wonder who has heard!"

 MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. 

Mr. Dennis laughed. He still was holding Jim's hand "May I ask her?" hesaid to Jim. 

Jim nodded, though his eyes were startled. Suddenly Mr. Dennis droppedJim's hand and threw his arm across the boy's shoulders. The two stoodfacing Mrs. Manning. 

"Mrs. Manning, " began the Irishman, "I think you feel that I admire andrespect you. I am a lonely man. I asked Jim if I could ask you to marryme, earlier in the evening. He said, No! No one should take his father'splace. I told him you and I had lived through too much to dream offalling in love again, but that old age was a lonely thing. I need youand when Jim finishes school and goes, you'll need me, Mrs. Manning. Ican send Jim through college and give him a right start. Will you marryme, say in a day or two, without any fuss, Mrs. Manning?"

The little widow's face was flushed. "What made you change, Jim?" sheexclaimed. "I couldn't love anyone but your father. "

Jim nodded. "I didn't realize then that my work would take me away fromyou. You know a man's job is very important, Mama. I want to get someoneto take care of you while I build bridges, for I've _got to build them_. I can send you money but I want a man to be looking out for you. "

Mr. Dennis' eyes twinkled but he waited. 

"It's only a year since your father died. I never could care for anyoneelse, " said Mrs. Manning. 

"It's ten years since Mrs. Dennis and the babies died, " said Dennis. "Inever could love anyone as I did the three of them. But you and I suiteach other comfortably, Mrs. Manning. We'd be a great comfort to eachother and we can do some good things for Still Jim. You must try to givehim his chance. It's a sad boyhood he's having, Mrs. Manning. Let's givehim the chance he can't have unless you marry me. "

Mrs. Manning looked at Jim. His face still was eager but there were darkrings around his eyes that came from nerve strain. He was too thin andshe saw for the first time that his shoulders were rounding. Mr. Dennisfollowed up his advantage. 

"Look at his hands, Mrs. Manning. Hard work has knocked them up too muchfor his age. He should have his chance to play if he's to do good bodyand brain work later. Let's give his father's son a chance! Don't youthink his father would approve?"

"Oh, but I'm going to keep on working and supporting myself!" cried Jim. "I just wanted you to look out for Mama. "

"Well, I guess not!" cried Mrs. Manning, vehemently. "You'll comestraight out of that foundation tomorrow. You are going to have yourchance. Oh, Jim dear! I hadn't realized how little happiness you've beenhaving!"

Jim shook his head. "I can support myself. "

Mrs. Manning sniffed. "How can you be a good engineer out in that awfulrough country unless you have the best kind of a physical foundation?Use sense, Jimmy. "

This was a master stroke. Jim wavered, then caught his left ankle in hishand and hopped about like a happy frog. 

"Gee whiz!" he cried. "I'll enter the try-out squad the first thing. Ibet I can make school quarter back. "

Mr. Dennis cut in neatly. "It might just as well take place tomorrow andthe three of us can take a month at the seashore. I'll bet Jim hassighed for the old swimming hole lately. "

The little widow looked at Mr. Dennis long and keenly, then she rose andheld out her hand while she said very deliberately:

"You are a good man, Michael Dennis. I thank you for me and mine andI'll be a comfort to you as you are being to me. I'm not going topretend I'd do this if it wasn't for Jim. I can't love you, but you loveJim and that's enough for me. "

And so Jim was given his chance. 

He spent the rest of the summer at the shore and entered school in thefall with a new interest. With the unexpected lift of the money burdenfrom his shoulders, Jim began to make up for his lost play. Football andtrack work, debating societies and glee-clubs straightened his roundshoulders and found him friends. Most important of all, he ceased tobrood for a time over his Exham problems. 

Jim's stepfather, whom the boy called Uncle Denny, took a pride andinterest in the boy that sometimes brought the tears to his mother'seyes. It seemed to her that the warm-hearted Irishman gave to Jim allthe love that the death of his family had left unsatisfied. And Jim, inhis undemonstrative way, returned Mr. Dennis' affection. He shared withhis Uncle Denny his growing ideals on engineering. He rehearsed hisdebating society speeches on his Uncle Denny, who endured them withenthusiasm. He and his Uncle Denny worked out some marvelous footballtactics when Jim as a senior in the high school became captain of theschool team. Often of an evening Jim's mother would come upon the two inthe library, flat on their backs before the grate in a companionshipthat needed and found no words. 

At such times she would say, "Michael, you didn't marry me. You marriedJim. "

And Dennis would look up at her with a smile of understanding that shereturned. 

When Jim was a freshman in Columbia, he acquired a chum. It was not achum who took the place of Phil Chadwick. Nothing in after life everfills the hollow left by the first friendship of childhood and Phil washallowed in Jim's memory along with all the beauties of the swimminghole and the quiet elms around the old Exham mansions. 

But Jim's new chum gave him his first opportunity at hero-worship, whichis an essential step in a boy's growth. The young man's name was GeorgeSaradokis. His mates called him Sara. His mother was a Franco-American, his father was a Greek, a real estate man in the Greek section of NewYork. Sara confided to Jim, early in their acquaintance, that his fatherwas the disinherited son of a nobleman and that he, the grandson, wouldbe his grandfather's heir. The glamour of this possible inheritance didnot detract at all from the romance of the new friendship in Jim'scredulous young eyes. 

Sara was halfback on the freshman football team, while Jim playedquarterback. The two were of a height, six feet, but Jim still wasslender. Sara was broad and heavy. He was very Greek--that is, modernGreek, which has little racially or temperamentally in common with theancient Greek. He was a brilliant student, yet of a commerciality ofmind that equalled that of any Jewish student in the class. 

Both the boys were good trackmen. Both were good students. Both wereplanning to be engineers. But, temperamentally, they were as far apartas the two countries whence came their father's stock. 

Uncle Denny did not approve fully of Saradokis, but finally he decidedthat it was good for Jim to overcome some of his New England prejudiceagainst the immigrant class and he encouraged the young Greek to come tothe house. 

It was when Jim was a freshman, too, that Penelope came from Colorado tolive with her Uncle Denny. Her father, Uncle Denny's brother, hadmarried a little Scotch girl and they had made a bare living from asmall mine, up in the mountains, until a fatal attack of pneumoniaclaimed them both in a single month. Penelope stayed on at a girl'sschool in Denver for a year. Then, Jim's mother urging it, Mr. Dennissent for her. Jim, absorbed in the intricate business of being afreshman, did not give much heed to the preparations for her coming. 

One spring evening he sauntered into the library to wait for the dinnerbell. As he strolled over to the fireplace, he saw a slender young girlsitting in the Morris chair. 

"Oh, hello!" said Jim. 

"Hello!" said the young girl, rising. 

The two calmly eyed each other. Jim saw a graceful girl, three or fouryears younger than himself, with a great braid of chestnut hair hangingover one shoulder. She had a round face that ended in a pointed chin, agenerous mouth, a straight little nose and a rich glow of color in hercheeks. These details Jim noted only casually, for his attention wasfocused almost immediately on her eyes. For years after, whenever Jimthought of Penelope, he thought of a halo of chestnut hair about eyes ofa deep hazel; eyes that were large, almost too large, for the littleround face; eyes that were steady and clear and black sometimes withfeeling or with a fleeting shadow of melancholy that did not belong toher happy youth. 

Penelope saw a tall lad in a carefully dressed Norfolk suit. He had along, thin, tanned face, with a thick mop of soft hair falling acrosshis forehead, a clear gaze and a flashing, wistful, fascinatingly sweetsmile as he repeated:

"Hello, Penelope!"

"Hello, Still Jim!" replied the girl, while her round cheeks showeddimples that for a moment made Jim forget her eyes. 

"Uncle Denny's been busy, I see, " said Jim. 

Then he was speechless. He had not reached the "girl stage" as yet. Penelope was not disturbed. She continued to look Jim over, almostunblinkingly. Then Jim, to his own astonishment, suddenly found histongue. 

"I'm glad you've come, " he said abruptly. "I'm going to think a lot ofyou, I can see that. "

He held out his hand and Penelope slipped her slender fingers into hishard young fists. Jim did not let the little hand go for a minute. Thetwo looked at each other clearly. 

"I'm glad I'm here, " said Penelope. Then she dimpled. "And I'm gladyou're nice, because Uncle Denny told me that if I didn't like you I'dshow myself no judge of boys. When I giggled, I know he wanted to slapme. "

Jim's smile flashed and Penelope wondered what she liked best about it, his white teeth, his merriness or his wistfulness. 

"There's the dinner bell!" exclaimed Jim. "As Uncle Denny says, I'm sohungry me soul is hanging by a string. Come on, Penelope. "

Penelope entered Jim's life as simply and as easily as Saradokis did. 

Sara charmed both Jim and Penelope. His physical beauty alone was athing to fascinate far harsher critics than these two who grew to be hisspecial friends. His hair was tawny and thick and wavy. His eyes wereblack and bright. His mouth was small and perfectly cut. His cleft chinwas square and so was his powerful jaw. He carried himself like anIndian and his strength was like that of the lover in Solomon's song. 

Added to this was the romance of his grandfather. This story enthralledlittle Pen, who at fourteen was almost bowled over by the thought thatsome day Sara might be a duke. 

Sara's keen mind, his commercial cleverness had a strong hold on Jim, who lacked the money-making instinct. Jim quoted Sara a good deal atfirst to Uncle Denny, whose usual comment was a grunt. 

"Sara says it's a commercial age. If you don't get out and rustle moneyyou might as well get off the earth. "

A grunt from Uncle Denny. 

"Well, but Uncle Denny, you can't deny he's right. "

The Irishman's reply was indirect. "Remember, me boy, that the chiefvalue of a college education is to set your standards, to make yourideals. These four years are the high-water mark of your life'sidealism. You never'll get higher. Anything else you are taught incollege you'll have to learn over another way after you get out to buckreal life. "

Jim thought this over for a time, then he said: "Do you ever talk to Penlike you do to me? It would do her good. "

Uncle Denny sniffed. "Don't you worry about Pen's ideas. She's got thebest mind I ever found in a girl. When she gets past the giggling age, you'll learn a few things from her, me boy. "

Penelope chummed with the two boys impartially as far as Dennis or Jim'smother could perceive. The girl with her common sense and herfoolishness and her youthfulness was an inexpressible joy to Jim'smother, who always had longed for a daughter. She had dreams about Jimand Pen that she confided to no one and she looked on Penelope'simpartiality with a jealous eye. 

Until Pen was sixteen the boys were content to share her equally. Theywere finishing their junior year when Pen's sixteenth birthday arrived. It fell on a Saturday, and Jim and Sara cut Saturday morning classes andinvited Penelope to a day at Coney Island. Uncle Denny and Jim's motherwere to meet the trio for supper and return with them. 

It was a June morning fit to commemorate, Sara said, even Pen'sbirthday. The three, carrying their bathing suits, caught the 8 o'clockboat at 129th street, prepared to do the weather and the occasion fulljustice. The crowd was not great on this early boat until the Batterywas reached. Then all the world rushed up the gang plank; Jew andGentile crowded for the best places. Italian women, with babies, draggedafter husbands with lunch baskets. Stout Irish matrons looked with scornon the "foreigners" and did great devastation in claiming camp stools. Very young Jewish girls and boys were the most conspicuous element inthe crowd, but there were groups of gentle Armenians, of Syrians, ofChinese and parties of tourists with field glasses and cameras. 

"And every one of them claims to be an American, " said Jim. 

Penelope nudged Sara. "Look at Jim's New England nose, " she chuckled. "Idon't see how he can see anything but the sky. "

Jim did not heed Pen's remarks. Pen and Sara laughed. They were thrilledby the very cosmopolitan aspect of the crowd. They responded to a senseof world citizenship to which Jim was an utter alien. 

"Make 'em a speech, Jim!" cried Sara, as the boat got under way again. "Make the eagle scream. It's a bully place for a speech. The poor devilscan't get away from you. "

Jim grinned. Pen, her eyes twinkling, joined in with Sara. "He's toolazy. He's a typical American. He'll roast the immigrants but he won'tdo anything. It's a dare, Jim. "

Sara shouted, "It's a dare, Still! Go to it! Pen and I dare you to makethe boat a speech. "

Jim was still smiling but his eyes narrowed. The old boyhood code stillheld in college. The "taker" of a dare was no sportsman. And there wassomething deeper than this that suddenly spoke; the desire of his raceto force his ideas on others, the same desire that had made his fathertalk to the men in the quarry at Exham. With a sudden swing of his longlegs he mounted a pile of camp chairs and balanced himself with a handon Sara's shoulder. 

"Shut up!" he shouted. "Everybody shut up and listen to me!"

It was the old dominating note. Those of the crowd that heard his voiceturned to look. It was a vivid group they saw; the tall boy, with thin, eager face, fine gray eyes and a flashing wistful smile that caught theheart, and with a steadying arm thrown round Jim's thighs, the Greeklad, with his uncovered hair liquid gold in the June sun, his beautifulbrown face flushed and laughing, while crowded close to Sara was thepink-cheeked girl, her face upturned to look at Jim. 

"Hey! Everybody! Keep still and listen to me!" repeated Jim. 

In the hush that came, the chatter in the cabin below and the rear decksounded remote. 

"I've been appointed a committee of one to welcome you to America!"cried Jim. "Welcome to our land. And when you get tired of New York, remember that it's not in America. America lies beyond the Hudson. Enjoyyourselves. Take everything that isn't nailed down. "

"Who gave the country to you, kid?" asked a voice in the crowd. 

"My ancestors who, three hundred years ago, stole it from the Indians, "answered Jim with a smile. 

A roar of laughter greeted this. "How'd you manage to keep it so long?"asked someone else. 

"Because you folks hadn't heard of it, " replied the boy. 

Another roar of laughter and someone else called, "Good speech. Take upa collection for the young fellow to get his hair cut with. "

Jim tossed the hair out of his eyes and gravely pointed back to themarvelous outline of the statue of Liberty, black against the sky. "Takea collection and drink hope to that, my friends. It is the mostmagnificent experiment in the world's history, and you have taken it outof our hands. "

There was a sudden hush, followed by hand clapping, during which Jimslipped down. Sara gave him a bear hug. "Oh, Still Jim, you're the lightof my weary eyes! Did he call our bluff, Pen, huh?"

There was something more than laughter in Pen's eyes as she replied:

"I'm never sure whether Still was cut out to be an auctioneer or apolitician. "

"Gosh!" exclaimed Jim, "let's get some ginger ale. "

The day rushed on as if in a wild endeavor to keep up with the June windwhich beat up and down the ocean and across Coney Island, urging thetrio on to its maddest. They shot the chutes until, maudlin withlaughter, they took to a merry-go-round. When they were ill fromwhirling, Sara led the way to the bucking staircase. This was a style ofseveral steps arranged to buck at unexpected intervals. The movement sobefuddled the climber that he consistently took a step backward forevery step forward until at last, goaded by the huge laughter of thewatching crowd, he fairly fell to the opposite side of the staircase. 

It was before this seductive phenomenon that the three paused. The crowdwas breathlessly watching the struggles of a very fat, very red-headedwoman who chewed gum in exact rhythm with the bucking of the staircase, while she firmly marked time on the top of the stairs. 

Sara gave a chuckle and, closely followed by Jim and Pen, he mounted thestile. He was balked by the red-headed woman who towered high above him. Sara reached up and touched her broad back. 

"Walk right ahead, madam, " he urged. "You're holding us back. "

The fat woman obediently took a wild step forward, the stair bucked andshe stepped firmly backward and sat down violently on Sara's head. Penand Jim roared with the crowd. The red-headed woman scrambled to thetopmost stair again, then turned and shook her fist in Sara's face. 

"Don't you touch me again, you brute!" she screamed. Then she summonedall her energies and took another dignified step upward. Again thestairs bucked. Again the fat woman sat down on Sara's hat. Again theonlookers were overwhelmed with laughter. Pen and Jim feebly supportedeach other as they rode up and down on the lower step. Sara pushed thewoman off his head and again she turned on him. 

"There! You made me swallow my gum! And I'll bet you call yourself agentleman!"

Sara, red-faced but grinning, took a mighty step upward, gripped thewoman firmly around the waist and lifted her down the opposite side ofthe stile. Pen and Jim followed with a mad scramble. For a moment itlooked as if the red-headed woman would murder Sara. But as she lookedat his young beauty her middle-aged face was etched by a gold-toothedsmile. 

"Gee, that's more fun than I've had for a year!" she exclaimed and shemelted into helpless laughter. 

Coney Island is of no value to the fastidious or the lazy. Coney Islandbelongs to those who have the invaluable gift of knowing how to befoolish, who have felt the soul-purging quality of huge laughter, therevivifying power of play. Lawyers and pickpockets, speculators andlaborers, poets and butchers, chorus girls and housewives at ConeyIsland find one common level in laughter. Every wholesome human beingloves the clown. 

Spent with laughing, Pen finally suggested lunch, and Jim led the way toan open-air restaurant. 

"Let's, " he said with an air of inspiration, "eat lunch backward. Beginwith coffee and cheese and ice cream and pie and end with clam chowderand pickles. "

"Nothing could be more perfect!" exclaimed Pen enthusiastically, and asnothing surprises a Coney Islander waiter, they reversed the menu. 

When they could hold no more, they strolled down to the beach and sat inthe sand. The crowd was very thick here. Nearly everyone was in abathing suit. Women lolled, half-naked in the sand, while their escorts, still more scantily clad, sifted sand over them. Unabashed couplesembraced each other, rubbing elbows with other embracing pairs. The windblew the smell of hot, wet humans across Jim's face. He looked at Pen'ssweet face, now a little round-eyed and abashed in watching theunashamed crowd. It was the first time that Mrs. Manning had allowed Pento go to Coney Island without her careful eye. 

Jim said, with a slow red coming into his cheeks, "Let's get out ofhere, Sara. "

"Why, we just got here, " replied Sara. "Let's get into our suits andhave some fun. "

"Pen'll not get into a bathing suit with these muckers, " answered Jim, slowly. 

Pen, who had been thinking the same thing, immediately resented Jim'stone. "Of course I shall, " she replied airily. "You can't boss me, Jim. "

"That's right, Pen, " agreed Sara. "Let old Prunes sit here and swelter. You and I will have a dip. "

Pen rose and she and Sara started toward the bath house. Jim took a longstride round in front of the two. 

"Sara, do as you please, " he drawled. "Penelope will stay here withme. "

CHAPTER V

THE SIGN AND SEAL

 "The river forever flows yet she sees no farther than I who am forever silent, forever still. "

 MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. 

"Jim Manning, you've no right to speak to me that way, " said Penelope. 

Jim returned her look clearly. "You are to stay here, Pen, " he repeatedslowly. 

"You've got your nerve, Still!" exclaimed Sara. "Pen's as much mycompany as she is yours. Quit trying to start something. Pen, comealong. "

Jim did not stir for a moment, then he jerked his head toward the bathhouse. "Go ahead and get into your suit, Sara. Penelope and I will waithere for you. "

Sara had seen Jim in this guise before, on the football field. For amoment he scowled, then he shrugged his shoulders. "You old mule!" hegrunted. "All right, Pen. You pacify the brute and I'll be back in a fewminutes. "

Pen did not yield so gracefully. She sat down in the sand with her backhalf turned to Jim and he, with his boyish jaw set, eyed heruncomfortably. She did not speak to him until Sara appeared and, withan airy wave of the hand, waded into the water. 

"I think Sara looks like a Greek god in a bathing suit, " she said. "You'd know he was going to be a duke, just to look at him. "

Jim gave a good imitation of one of Uncle Denny's grunts and said: "Heisn't a duke--yet--and he's gone in too soon after eating. "

"And he's got beautiful manners, " Pen continued. "You treat me as if Iwere a child. He never forgets that I am a lady. "

"Oh, slush!" drawled Jim. 

Pen turned her back, squarely. Sara did not remain long in the water butcame up dripping and shivering to burrow in the hot sand. Pendeliberately sifted sand over him, patting it down as she saw the othersdo, while she told Sara how wonderfully he swam. 

Sara eyed Jim mischievously, while he answered: "Never mind, Pen. WhenI'm the duke, you shall be the duchess and have a marble swimming poolall of your own. And old Prunes will be over here coaching AnthonyComstock while you and I are doing Europe--in our bathing suits. "

Penelope flushed quickly and Sara's halo of romance shone brighter thanever. 

"The Duchess Pen, " he went on largely. "Not half bad. For my part, Ican't see any objection to a girl as pretty as you are wearing a bathingsuit anywhere, any time. "

Pen looked at Sara adoringly. At sixteen one loves the gods easily. Jim, with averted face, watched the waves dumbly. It had been easy thatmorning to toss speech back and forth with the boat crowd. But now, asalways, when he felt that his need for words was dire, speech desertedhim. Suddenly he was realizing that Pen was no longer a little girl andthat she admired Saradokis ardently. When the young Greek strolled awayto dress, Jim looked at Pen intently. She was so lovely, so rosy, somischievous, so light and sweet as only sixteen can be. 

"Cross patch. Draw the latch! Sit by the sea and grouch, " she sang. 

Jim flushed. "I'm not grouchy, " he protested. 

"Oh, yes you are!" cried Pen. "And when Sara comes back, he and I aregoing up for some ice cream while you stay here and get over it. You canmeet us for supper with Aunt Mary and Uncle Denny. "

Jim, after the two had left, sat for a long time in the sand. He wishedthat he could have a look at the old swimming hole up at Exham. Hewished that he and Uncle Denny and his mother and Pen were living atExham. For the first time he felt a vague distrust of Sara. After a timehe got into his bathing suit and spent the rest of the afternoon in andout of the water, dressing only in time to meet the rest for supper. 

After supper the whole party went to one of the great dancing pavilions. Uncle Denny and Jim's mother danced old-fashioned waltzes, while Saraand Jim took turn about whirling Penelope through two steps andgalloping through modern waltz steps. The music and something in Jim'sface touched Pen. As he piloted her silently over the great floor intheir first waltz, she looked up into his face and said:

"I was horrid, Still Jim. You were so bossy. But you were right; it wasno place for me. "

Jim's arm tightened round her soft waist. "Pen, " he said, "promise meyou'll shake Sara and the rest and walk home from the boat with metonight. "

Pen hesitated. She would rather have walked home with Sara, but she wasvery contrite over Jim's lonely afternoon, so she promised. Sara leftthe boat at the Battery to get a subway train home. When the othersreached 23rd street, it was not difficult for Jim and Pen to drop wellbehind Uncle Denny and Jim's mother. Jim drew Pen's arm firmly withinhis own. This seemed very funny to Penelope and yet she enjoyed it. There had come a subtle but decided change in the boy's attitude towardher that day, that she felt was a clear tribute to her newly acquiredyoung ladyhood. So, while she giggled under her breath, she enjoyedJim's sedulous assistance at the street crossings immensely. 

But try as he would, Jim could say nothing until they reached the oldbrownstone front. He mounted the steps with her slowly. In the dimlylighted vestibule he took both her hands. 

"Look up at me, Pen, " he said. 

The girl looked up into the tall boy's face. Jim looked down into hersweet eyes. His own grew wistful. 

"I wish I were ten years older, " he said. Then very firmly: "Penelope, you belong to _me_. Remember that, always. We belong to each other. WhenI have made a name for myself I'm coming back to marry you. "

"But, " protested Pen, "I'd much rather be a duchess. "

Jim held her hands firmly. "You belong to me. You shall never marrySaradokis. "

Pen's soft gaze deepened as she looked into Jim's eyes. She saw a lightthere that stirred something within her that never before had beentouched. And Jim, his face white, drew Penelope to him and laid his softyoung lips to hers, holding her close with boyish arms that trembled athis own audacity, even while they were strong with a man's desire tohold. 

Penelope gave a little sobbing breath as Jim released her. 

"That's my sign and seal, " he said slowly, "that kiss. That's to holdyou until I'm a man. "

The little look of tragedy that often lurked in Pen's eyes was veryplain as she said: "It will be a long time before you have made a namefor yourself, Still Jim. Lots of things will happen before then. "

"I won't change, " said Jim. "The Mannings don't. " Then with a great sighas of having definitely settled his life, he added: "Gee, I'm hungry! Mestomach is touching me backbone. Let's see if there isn't something inthe pantry. Come on, Pen. "

And Pen, with a sudden flash of dimples, followed him. 

It was not long after Pen's birthday that the college year ended and Jimand Sara went to work. Jim had spent his previous vacations with thefamily at the shore. Saradokis was planning to become a constructionengineer, with New York as his field. He wanted Jim to go intopartnership with him when they were through college. So he persuaded Jimthat it would be a good experience for them to put in their juniorvacation at work on one of the mighty skyscrapers always in process ofconstruction. 

They got jobs as steam drillmen. Jim liked the work. He liked the meresense of physical accomplishment in working the drill. He liked to be apart of the creative force that was producing the building. But to hissurprise, his old sense of suffocation in being crowded in with theimmigrant workman returned to him. There came back, too, some of the oldmelancholy questioning that he had known as a boy. 

He said to Sara one day: "My father used to say that when he was a boythe phrase, 'American workman' stood for the highest efficiency in theworld, but that even in his day the phrase had become a joke. How couldyou expect this rabble to know that there might be such a thing as anAmerican standard of efficiency?"

Sara laughed. "Junior Economics stick out all over you, Still. Thisbunch does as good work as the American owners will pay for. "

Jim was silent for a time, then he said: "I wonder what's the matterwith us Americans? How did we come to give our country away to thishorde?"

"'Us Americans!'" mimicked Saradokis. "What is an American, anyhow?"

"I'm an American, " returned Jim, briefly. 

"Sure, " answered the Greek, "but so am I and so are most of thesefellows. And none of us knows what an American is. I'll admit it wasyour type founded the government. But you are goners. There is noAmerican type any more. And by and by we'll modify your old Anglo-Saxoninstitutions so that G. Washington will simply revolve in his grave. We'll add Greek ideas and Yiddish and Wop and Bohunk and Armenian andNigger and Chinese and Magyar. Gee! The world will forget there ever wasone of you big-headed New Englanders in this country. Huh! What is anAmerican? The American type will have a boarding house hash beaten forinfinite variety in a generation or so. "

The two young men were marching along 23rd street on their way to Jim'shouse for dinner. At Sara's words Jim stopped and stared at the youngGreek. His gray eyes were black. 

"So that's the way you feel about us, you foreigners!" exclaimed Jim. "We blazed the trail for you fellows in this country and called you overhere to use it. And you've suffocated us and you are glad of it. GoodGod! Dad and the Indians!"

"What did you call us over here for but to make us do your dirty workfor you?" chuckled the Greek. "Serves you right. Piffle! What's anAmerican want to talk about my race and thine for? There's room for allof us!"

Jim did not answer. All that evening he scarcely spoke. That night hedreamed again of his father's broken body and dying face against thegolden August fields. All the next day as he sweated on the drill, thefutile questionings of his childhood were with him. 

At noon, Sara eyed him across the shining surface of a Child'srestaurant table. Each noon they devoured a quarter of their day's wagesin roast beef and baked apples. 

"Are you sore at me, Still?" asked Sara. "I wasn't roasting you, personally, last night. "

Jim shook his head. Sara waited for words but Jim ate on in silence. 

"Oh, for the love of heaven, come out of it!" groaned Sara. "Tell mewhat ails you, then you can go back in and shut the door. What has gotyour goat? You can think we foreigners are all rotters if you want to. "

"You don't get the point, " replied Jim. "I don't think for a minute thatyou newcomers haven't a perfect right to come over here. But I have racepride. You haven't. I can't see America turned from North European toSouth in type without feeling suffocated. "

The young Greek stared at Jim fixedly. Then he shook his head. "You arein a bad way, my child. I prescribe a course at vaudeville tonight. Isee you can still eat, though. "

Jim stuck by his drill until fall. During these three months he ponderedmore over his father's and Exham's failure than he had for years. Yet hereached no conclusion save the blind one that he was going to fightagainst his own extinction, that he was going to found a family, that hewas going to make the old Manning name once more known and respected. 

It was after this summer that the presence of race barrier was felt byJim and Sara. And somehow, too, after Pen's birthday there was a newrestraint between the two boys. Both of them realized then that Pen wasmore to them than the little playmate they had hitherto considered her. Jim believed that the kiss in the vestibule bound Pen to himirretrievably. But this did not prevent him from feeling uneasy andresentful over Sara's devotion to her. 

Nothing could have been more charming to a girl of Pen's age than Sara'sway of showing his devotion. Flowers and candy, new books and music heshowered on her endlessly, to Mrs. Manning's great disapproval. ButUncle Denny shrugged his shoulders. 

"Let it have its course, me dear. 'Tis the surest cure. And Jim mustlearn to speak for himself, poor boy. "

So the pretty game went on. Something in Sara's heritage made him afinished man of the world, while Jim was still an awkward boy. WhileJim's affection manifested itself in silent watchfulness, inunobtrusive, secret little acts of thoughtfulness and care, Saradokiswas announcing Pen as the Duchess to all their friends and openlysinging his joy in her beauty and cleverness. 

For even at sixteen Pen showed at times the clear minded thoughtfulnessthat later in life was to be her chief characteristic. This in spite ofthe fact that Uncle Denny insisted on her going to a fashionable privateschool. She read enormously, anything and everything that came to hand. Uncle Denny's books on social and political economy were devoured quiteas readily as Jim's novels of adventure or her own Christina Rossetti. And Sara was to her all the heroes of all the tales she read, althoughafter the episode of the Sign and Seal some of the heroes showed asurprising and uncontrollable likeness to Jim. Penelope never forgot thekiss in the vestibule. She never recalled it without a sense of lossthat she was too young to understand and with a look in her eyes thatdid not belong to her youth but to her Celtic temperament. 

She looked Jim over keenly when the family came up from the shore andJim was ready for his senior year. "You never were cut out for citywork, Jimmy, " she said. 

"I'm as fit as I ever was in my life, " protested Jim. 

"Physically, of course, " answered Pen. "But you hate New York and soit's bad for you. Get out into the big country, Still Jim. I was broughtup in Colorado, remember. I know the kind of men that belong there. Ilove that color of necktie on you. "

"Have you heard about the Reclamation Service?" asked Jim eagerly. Thenhe went on: "The government is building big dams to reclaim the aridwest. It puts up the money and does the work and then the farmers on theProject--that's what they call the system and the land it waters--haveten years or so to pay back what it cost and then the water systembelongs to them. They are going to put up some of the biggest dams inthe world. I'd like to try to get into that work. Somehow I like theidea of working for Uncle Sam. James Manning, U. S. R. S. --how does thatsound?"

"Too lovely for anything. I'm crazy about it. Sounds like Kipling andthe pyramids and Sahara, somehow. "

"Will you come out there after I get a start, Pen?" asked Jim. 

"Gee! I should say not! About the time you're beginning your second dam, I'll be overwhelming the courts of Europe, " Pen giggled. Then she added, serenely: "You don't realize, Still, that I'm going to be a duchess. "

"Aw, Pen, cut out that silly talk. You belong to me and don't you everthink your flirtation with Sara is serious for a minute. If I thoughtyou really did, I'd give up the Reclamation idea and go into partnershipwith Sara so as to watch him and keep him from getting you. "

"You and Sara would never get along in business together, " said Pen, with one of her far-seeing looks. "Sara would tie you in a bowknot inbusiness, and the older you two grow the more you are going to developeach other's worst sides. "

"Nevertheless, Sara shall never get you, " said Jim grimly. 

Penelope gave Jim an odd glance. "Sara is my fate, Still Jim, " she saidsoberly. 

"Oh, pickles!" exclaimed Jim. 

Pen tossed her head and left him. 

It was in the spring of their senior year that Jim and Sara ran theMarathon. It was a great event in the world of college athletics. Menfrom every important college in the country competed in the tryout. Forthe final Marathon there were left twenty men, Sara and Jim among them. 

The course was laid along Broadway from a point near Van Cortlandt Parkto Columbus Circle, ten long, clean miles of asphalt. Early on thebright May morning of the race crowds began to gather along the course. At first, a thin line of enthusiasts, planting themselves on camp stoolsalong the curb. Then at the beginning and end of the course the line, thickened to two or three deep until at last the police began toestablish lines. Mounted police appeared at intervals to turn traffic. The crowd as it thickened grew more noisy. Strange college yells wereemitted intermittently. Street fakirs traveled diligently up and downthe lines selling college banners. At last, Broadway lay a shining blackribbon, bordered with every hue of the rainbow, awaiting the runners. 

Uncle Denny had an elaborate plan for seeing the race. He and Jim'smother and Penelope established themselves at 159th street, with awaiting automobile around the corner. After the runners had passed thispoint, the machine was to rush them to the grand stand at ColumbusCircle for the finish. 

The three stood on the curb at 159th street, waiting. It wasmid-afternoon when to the north, above the noise of the city, anincreasing roar told of the coming of the runners. Pen, standing betweenUncle Denny and Jim's mother, seized a hand of each. Far up the shiningblack asphalt ribbon appeared a group of white dots. The roar grew withtheir approach. 

Suddenly Penelope leaned forward. "Sara! Sara! Jim! Jim!" she screamed. 

Four men were leading the Marathon. A Californian, a Wisconsin man, Jimand Sara. Sara led, then Jim and the Californian, then the Wisconsin manwith not a foot between any two of them. 

Jim was running easier than Sara. He had the advantage of less weightwith the same height. Sara's running pants and jersey were drenched withsweat. He was running with his mouth dropped open, head back, everysuperb line of his body showing under his wet clothes. His tawny hairgleamed in the sun. No sculptured marble of a Greek runner was ever morebeautiful than Sara as he ran the Marathon. 

Jim was running "with his nerves, " head forward, teeth clenched, fiststight to his side, long, lean and lithe. His magnificent head outlineditself for an instant against the sky line of the Hudson, fine, tense, like the painting of a Saxon warrior. Pen carried this picture of him inher heart for years. 

The moment the boys had passed, Uncle Denny made a run for the machine. The three entered the grand stand just as the white dots appeared underthe elevated tracks at 66th street. There was a roar, a fluttering ofbanners, a crash of music from a band and a single runner broke from thegroup and staggered against the line. Saradokis had won the race. 

Jim was not to be seen. Uncle Denny was frantic. 

"Where's me boy?" he shouted. "He was fit to finish at the Battery whenhe passed us. Give me deck room here. I'm going to find him!"

CHAPTER VI

THE MARATHON

 "I have seen a thing that humans call friendship. It is clearer, higher, less frequent than the thing they call love. "

 MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. 

At 66th street, Jim had passed the Californian and caught up with Sara. He held Sara's pace for the next block. Try as he would, the young Greekcould not throw Jim off and instinct told him that Jim had enoughreserve in him to forge ahead in the final spurt at Columbus Circle, sixblocks away. 

But at 63rd street something happened. A fire alarm was turned in from astore in the middle of the block. The police tried to move the crowdaway without interfering with the race, but just as the runners reachedthe point of the fire, the crowd broke into the street. A boy darted infront of Sara and Jim, and Sara struck at the lad. It was a back-handedblow and Sara brought his elbow back into Jim's stomach with a forcethat doubled Jim up like a closing book. Sara did not look round. Apoliceman jerked Jim to his feet. 

"After 'em, boy. Ye still can beat the next bunch!" cried the policeman. But Jim was all in. The blow had been a vicious one and he swayed limplyagainst the burly bluecoat. 

"Dirty luck!" grunted the Irishman, and with his arm under Jim'sshoulders he walked slowly with him to the rooms at Columbus Circle, where the runners were to dress. There Uncle Denny found Jim, stillwhite and shaken, dressing slowly. 

"What happened to you, me boy?" asked Uncle Denny, looking at himkeenly. 

Jim sat limply on the edge of a cot and told Dennis what had happened. 

"The low scoundrel!" roared Uncle Denny. "Leave me get at him!"

Jim caught the purple-faced Irishman by the arm. "You are to say nothingto anyone, Uncle Denny. How could I prove that he meant to do it? And doyou want me to be a loser that bellyaches?"

Uncle Denny looked Jim over and breathed hard for a moment before hereplied: "Very well, me boy. But I always suspected he had a yellowstreak in him and this proves it. Have you seen him do dirty tricksbefore?"

"I never had any proof, " answered Jim carefully. "And it was always somemoney matter and I'm no financier, so I laid it to my own ignorance. "

"A man who will do dirt in money matters can't be a clean sport, " saidUncle Denny. "This ends any chance of your going into business with him, Jim, I hope. "

"I gave that idea up long ago, Uncle Denny. Pen is not to hear a word ofall this, remember, won't you?"

At this moment, Saradokis burst in the door. He was dressed and his facewas vivid despite his exhaustion. 

"Hey, Still! What happened to you? Everybody's looking for you. Congratulate me, old scout!"

Jim looked from Sara's outstretched hand to his beaming face. Then heput his own hand in his pocket. 

"That was a rotten deal you handed me, Sara, " he said in the drawl thatbit. 

"What!" cried Sara. 

"What's done's done, " replied Jim. "I'm no snitcher, so you know you'resafe. But I'm through with you. "

Sara turned to Uncle Denny, injured innocence in his face. "What is thematter with him, Mr. Dennis?" he exclaimed. 

"Still Jim, me boy, go down to the machine while I talk with Sara, " saidDennis. 

"No, there is no use talking, " insisted Jim. 

"Jim, " said Dennis sternly, "I ask you to obey me but seldom. "

Without a word Jim picked up the suit case containing his running togsand went down to the automobile where his mother and Penelope werewaiting. To their anxious questions he merely replied that he hadfallen. This was enough for the two women folk, who tucked him inbetween them comfortably and his mother held his hand while Pen gave hima glowing account of the finish of the race. 

Jim listened with a grim smile, his gray eyes steadily fixed on Pen'slovely face. Not for worlds would he have had Penelope know that Sarahad won the race on a foul. Whatever she learned about the Greek he wasdetermined she should not learn through him. He was going to win on hisown points, he told himself, and not by tattling on his rival. 

It was fifteen minutes before Dennis and Sara appeared. Sara's face wasred with excitement and drawn with weariness. He walked directly to themachine and, looking up into Pen's face, exclaimed:

"If Jim has told you that I gave him a knockout to win the race, it's alie, Pen!"

Penelope looked from Jim to Uncle Denny, then back to Sara in utterbewilderment. 

"Why, Sara! He never said anything of the kind! He said he had a badfall when the crowd closed in and that it put him out of the race. "

"I told you to keep quiet, Sara, that Jim would never say anything!"cried Uncle Denny. 

"Get in, both of you, " said Jim's mother quietly. "Don't make a scene onthe street. "

"If Saradokis gets in, I'll take the Elevated home, " said Jim slowly. 

"Don't worry!" snapped Sara. "I'm meeting my father in a moment. Pen, you believe in me, don't you?"

Pen seized his outstretched hand and gave the others an indignant look. "Of course I do, though I don't know what it's all about. "

Sara lifted his hat and turned away and the machine started homeward. 

"Now, what on earth happened?" Pen cried. 

Uncle Denny looked at Jim and Jim shook his head. "I'm not going to talkabout it, " he said. "I've a right to keep silence. "

Pen bounced up and down on the seat impatiently. "You haven't any suchright, Jim Manning. You've got to tell me what you said about Sara. "

"Aw, let's forget it!" answered Jim wearily. "I'm sorry I ever even toldUncle Denny. "

He leaned back and closed his eyes and his tired face touched Pen'sheart. "You poor dear!" she exclaimed. "It was awfully hard on you tolose the race. "

Jim's mother patted her boy's hand. "You are a very blind girl, Penelope, " she said. "And I'm afraid it will take long years of troubleto open your eyes. We all must just stand back and wait. "

The little look of pre-knowledge that occasionally made Pen's eyes oldcame to them now as she looked at Jim's mother. "Did you learn easily, Aunt Mary?"

The older woman shook her head. "Heaven knows, " she answered, "I paid aprice for what little I know, the price of experience. I guess we womenare all alike. "

When they reached the brownstone front, Jim went to bed at once and thematter of the race was not mentioned among the other three at supper. Pen was offended at what she considered the lack of confidence in herand withdrew haughtily to her room. Uncle Denny went out and did notreturn until late. Jim's mother was waiting for him in their big, comfortable bedroom. 

Dennis peeled off his coat and vest and wiped his forehead. "Mary, " hesaid, "I've been talking to the policeman who helped Jim. He says it wasa deliberate knockout Sara gave Jim. He was standing right beside themat the time. "

Jim's mother threw up her hands. "That Greek shall never come insidethis house again, Michael!"

Dennis nodded as he walked the floor. "I don't know what to do about thematter. As a lawyer, I'd say, drop it. As Jim's best friend, I feel likemaking trouble for Saradokis, though I know Jim will refuse to haveanything to do with it. "

Jim's mother looked thoughtfully at the sock she was darning. "Jim hasthe right to say what shall be done. It means a lot to him in regard toits effect on Pen. But I think Pen must be told the whole story. "

Uncle Denny continued to pace the floor for some time, then he sighed:"You're right, as usual, Mary. I'll tell Pen meself, and forbid Sara thehouse, then we'll drop it. I'm glad for one thing. This gives the lastblow to any hope Sara may have had of getting Jim into business withhim. Jim will take that job with the United States Reclamation Service, I hope. Though how I'm to live without me boy, Mary, its hard for me tosay. "

Uncle Denny's Irish voice broke and Jim's mother suddenly rose andkissed his pink cheek. 

"Michael, " she said, "even if I hadn't grown so fond of you for your ownsake, I would have to love you for your love for Jim. "

A sudden smile lighted the Irishman's face and he gave the slenderlittle woman a boyish hug. 

"We are the most comfortable couple in the world, Mary!" he cried. 

Uncle Denny told the story of the boys' trouble to Penelope the nextmorning. Pen flatly refused to believe it. 

"I don't doubt that Jim thinks Sara meant it, " she said. "But I amsurprised at Jim. And I shall have to tell you, Uncle Denny, that if youforbid Sara the house I shall meet him clandestinely. I, for one, won'tturn down an old friend. "

Pen was so firm and so unreasonable that she alarmed Dennis. In spite ofhis firm resolution to the contrary, he felt obliged to tell Jim ofPenelope's obstinacy. 

"I wish I'd kept my silly mouth shut, " said Jim, gloomily. "Of coursethat's just the effect the story would have on Pen. She is nothing ifnot loyal. Here she comes now. Uncle Denny, I might as well have it outwith her. "

The two men were standing on the library hearth rug in the old way. Pencame in with her nose in the air and fire in her eyes. Uncle Denny fledprecipitately. 

Jim looked at Penelope admiringly. She was growing into a very lovelyyoung womanhood. She was not above medium height and she was slender, yet full of long, sweet curves. 

"Jim!" she exclaimed, "I don't believe a word of that horrid story aboutSara. "

Jim nodded. "I'm sorry it was told you. I'm not going to discuss it withyou, Pen. You were told the facts without my consent. You have a rightto your own opinion. Say, Pen, I can get my appointment to theReclamation Service and I'm going out west in a couple of weeks. I--Iwant to say something to you. "

Jim moistened his lips and prayed for the right words to come. Penlooked a little bewildered. She had come in to champion Sara and was notinclined to discuss Jim's job instead. But Jim found words and spokeeagerly:

"I'm going away, Pen, to make some kind of a name to bring back to youand then, when I've made it, I'm coming for you, Penelope. " He put hisstrong young hands on Pen's shoulders and looked clearly into her eyes. "You belong to me, Penelope. You never can belong to Sara. You knowthat. "

Pen looked up into Jim's face a little pitifully. "Still Jim, way backin my heart is a feeling for you that belongs to no one else. You--youare fine, Jim, and yet--Oh, Jim, if you want me, you'd better take menow because, " this with a sudden gust of girlish confidence, "because, honestly, I'm just crazy about Sara, and I know you are better for methan he is!"

Jim gave a joyful laugh. "I'd be a mucker to try to make you marry menow, Penny. You are just a kid. And just a dear. There is an awful lotto you that Sara can never touch. You show it only to me. And it'smine. "

"You'd better stay on the job, Still, " said Pen, warningly. 

Again Jim laughed. "Why, you sent me out west yourself. "

Pen nodded. "And it will make a man of you. It will wake you up. Andwhen you wake up, you'll be a big man, Jimmy. "

Pen's old look was on her face. "What do you mean, Pen?" asked Jim. 

The girl shook her head. "I don't quite know. Some day, when I'velearned some of the lessons Aunt Mary says are coming to me, I'll tellyou. " Then a look almost of fright came to Pen's face. "I'm afraid tolearn the lessons, Still Jim. Take me with you now, Jimmy. "

The tall boy looked at her longingly, then he said:

"Dear, I mustn't. It wouldn't be treating you right. " And there was asudden depth of passion in his young voice as he added, "I'm going togive you my sign and seal again, beloved. "

And Jim lifted Penelope in his strong arms and laid his lips to hers ina hot young kiss that seemed to leave its impress on her very heart. Ashe set her to her feet, Penelope gave a little sob and ran from theroom. 

Nothing that life brings us is so sure of itself as first love; nothingever again seems so surely to belong to life's eternal verities. Jimwent about his preparations for graduating and for leaving home withcomplete sense of security. He had arranged his future. There wasnothing more to be said on the matter. Fate had no terror for Jim. Hehad the bravery of untried youth. 

The next two weeks were busy and hurried. Pen, a little wistful eyedwhenever she looked at Jim, avoided being alone with him. Saradokis didnot come to the house again. He took two weeks in the mountains aftergraduation before beginning the contracting business which his fatherhad built up for him. 

As the time drew near for leaving home, Jim planned to say a number ofthings to his Uncle Denny. He wanted to tell him about his feeling forPen and he wanted to tell how much he was going to miss the fine oldIrishman's companionship. He wanted to tell him that he was not merelyJim Manning, going to work, but that he was a New Englander going forthto retrieve old Exham. But the words would not come out and Jim wentaway without realizing that Uncle Denny knew every word he would havesaid and vastly more, that only the tender Irish heart can know. 

Jim's mother, Uncle Denny and Pen went to the station with him. Hekissed his mother, wrung Pen's and Dennis' hands, then climbed aboardthe train and reappeared on the observation platform. His face wasrigid. His hat was clenched in his fist. None of the watching group wasto forget the picture of him as the train pulled out. The tall, boyishfigure in the blue Norfolk suit, the thick brown hair tossed across hisdreamer's forehead, and the half sweet, half wistful smile set on hisyoung lips. 

There were tears on Jim's mother's cheeks and in Pen's eyes, but UncleDenny broke down and cried. 

"He's me own heart, Still Jim is!" he sobbed. 

CHAPTER VII

THE CUB ENGINEER

 "Humans constantly shift sand and rock from place to place. They call this work. I have seen time return their every work to the form in which it was created. "

 MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. 

It was hard to go. But Jim was young and adventure called him. As thetrain began its long transcontinental journey, Jim would not haveexchanged places with any man on earth. He was a full-fledged engineer. He was that creature of unmatched vanity, a young man with his firstjob. And Jim's first job was with his government. The ReclamationService was, to Jim's mind, a collection of great souls, scientificallyinclined, giving their lives to their country, harvesting their rewardsin adventure and in the abandoned gratitude of a watching nation. 

Jim was headed for the Green Mountain project which was located in theIndian country of the far Northwest. There were not many months of workleft on the dam or the canals. But Jim was to report to the engineer incharge of this project to receive from him his first training. 

This was Jim's first trip away from the Atlantic coast. He was a typicalEasterner, accustomed to landscapes on a small scale and to the humantouch on everything. Until he left St. Paul, nothing except the extremewidth of the map really surprised him. But after the train had crossedthe Mississippi valley, it began to traverse vast rolling plains, covered from horizon to horizon with wheat. At endless intervals wereset tiny dwellings like lone sentinels guarding the nation's bread. After the plains, came an arid country where a constantly beatenvegetation fought with the alkali until at last it gave way to a worldof yellow sand and purple sky. 

After a day of this, far to the west appeared a delicate line ofsnowcapped peaks toward which the flying train snailed for hours, untilJim, watching eagerly, saw the sand give way to low grassy hills, thehills merge into ridges and the ridges into pine-clad mountain slopes. 

For the last two days of the trip the train swung through dizzy spaces, slid through dim, dripping canyons, crossed trestles even greater thanthe trestles of Jim's boyhood dreams; twisted about peaks that gaveunexpected, fleeting views of other peaks of other ranges until Jimcrawled into his berth at night sight-weary and with a sense ofloneliness that appalled him. 

At noon of a bright day, Jim landed at a little way station from which asingle-gauge track ran off into apparent nothingness. Puffing on thesingle-gauge track was a "dinky" engine, coupled to a flat car. Woodenbenches were fastened along one end of the car. The engineer and firemanwere loading sheet iron on the other end. They looked Jim over as heapproached them. 

"Do you go up to the dam?" he asked. 

"If we ever get this stuff loaded, " replied the engineer. 

"I'd like to go up with you, " said Jim. "I've got a job up there. "

The engineer grunted. "Another cub engineer. All right, sonny. Load yourtrousseau onto the Pullman. "

Jim grinned sheepishly and heaved his trunk and suit case up on the flatcar. Then he lent a hand with the sheet iron and climbed aboard. 

"Let her rip, Bill, " said the fireman. And she proceeded to rip. Jimheld his hat between his knees and clung to the bench with both hands. The dinky whipped around curves and across viaducts, the grade risingsteadily until just as Jim had made up his mind that his moments werenumbered, they reached the first steep grade into the mountain. Fromthis point the ride was a slow and steady climb up a pine-coveredmountain. Just before sunset the engine stopped at a freight shed. 

"Go on up the trail, " said the fireman. "We'll send your stuff up to theofficers' camp. "

Jim saw a wide macadam road leading up through the pines. Theunmistakable sounds of great construction work dropped faintly down tohim. His pulse quickened and he started up the road which wound for aquarter of a mile through trees the trunks of which were silhouettedagainst the setting sun. Then the road swept into the open. Jim stopped. 

First he saw ranges, stretching away and away to the evening glory ofthe sky. Then, nearer, he saw solitary peaks, etched black against theheavens, and groups of peaks whose mighty flanks merged as if in a finalstruggle for supremacy. 

The boy saw a country of mighty distances, of indescribable cruelty andhostility, a country of unthinkable heights and impassable depths. And, standing so, struggling to resist the sense of the region's terrifyingbigness, he saw that all the valleys and canyons and mountain slopesseemed to focus toward one point. It was as if they had concentrated atone spot against a common enemy. 

This point, he saw, was a huge black canyon that carried the waters fromall the hundred hills around. It was the point where the war of watersmust be keenest, where the stand of the wilderness was most savage andwhere lay the one touch of man in all that area of contending mountains. 

A vast wall of masonry had been built to block the outlet of the ranges. A curving wall of gray stone, so huge, so naked of conscious adornmentthat the hills might well have disbelieved it to be an enemy and haveaccepted it as part and parcel of their own silent grandeur. 

Jim lifted his hat slowly and moistened his lips. This, then, was thelabor to which he had so patronizingly offered his puny hands. 

After a while, details obtruded themselves. Jim saw black dots of menmoving about the top of the dam. He heard the clatter of concretemixers, the raucous grind of the crusher, the scream of donkey enginesand the shouts of foremen. Back to the right, among the trees, was along military line of tents. Above the noise of construction the boycaught the silent brooding of the forest and, poured round all, theliquid glory of the sunset. Suddenly he saw the whole great picture ashis own work, and it was a picture as elusive, as tantalizing, as aboy's first dreams of pirate adventure. Jim had come to his first greatdam. 

When he had shaken himself together and had swallowed the lump in histhroat, he asked a passing workman for Mr. Freet, the Project Engineer. He was directed to a tent with a sheet iron roof. Jim stopped bashfullyin the door. A tall man was standing before a map. Jim had a good lookat him before he turned around. 

Mr. Freet wore corduroy riding breeches and leather puttees, a blueflannel shirt and soft tie. He was thin and tall and had a shock ofbright red hair. When he turned, Jim saw that his face was bronzed anddeeply lined. His eyes were black and small and piercing. 

"Mr. Freet, " said Jim, "my name is Manning. "

The project engineer came forward with a pleasant smile. "Why, Mr. Manning, we didn't look for you until tomorrow, though your tent isready for you. Come in and sit down. "

Jim took the proffered camp chair and after a few inquiries about histrip, Mr. Freet said: "It's supper time and I'll take you over to themess and introduce you. Only a few of the engineers have their wiveshere and all the others, with the so-called 'office' force, eat at'Officers' Mess'. I'm not going to load you up with advice, Mr. Manning. You are a tenderfoot and fresh from college. You occupy the position ofcub engineer here, so you will be fair bait for hazing. Don't take ittoo seriously. About your work? I shall put you into the hands of thechief draughtsman for a time. I want you to thoroughly familiarizeyourself with that end of the work. Then, although most of that part isdone, you will go into the concrete works, then out on the dam with thesuperintendent. Remember that you have no record except some goodcollege work. Forget that you ever were a senior. Look at yourself as afreshman in a difficult course, where too many cons means a lifefailure. "

Jim listened respectfully. At that moment Arthur Freet was the biggestman on earth to him. 

"Yes, sir, " he said. "Thank you. "

Freet pulled on a corduroy coat. "Come over to supper, Manning. Too muchadvice on an empty stomach is bad for the digestion. "

Jim followed meekly after the Big Boss. 

Jim reported to Charlie Tuck, the head draughtsman the next morning. Tuck was a plump, middle-aged man, bald headed and clean shaven, withmild blue eyes. Jim put him down in his own mind as a sissy and chafed alittle at being put into Tuck's care. But his discontent was shortlived. 

Tuck proved to be a hard taskmaster. Before the end of the week Jimrealized that he would not get out of Tuck's hands until he knew everyinch of the design of the great dam from the sluice gates and thedrainage holes to the complete vertical section. He had no patience withmistakes and Jim took his grilling in silence, for the fat little manshowed a deep knowledge of the technical side of dam building thatreduced the cub engineer to a humble pulp. 

Also, Jim discovered that Tuck was an old Yale man and that hisavocation in life seemed to be tennis. The engineers had a good court inthe woods and after Tuck found that Jim liked the game, he took the boyover to the court every afternoon before supper and beat him withmonotonous regularity. And Jim was a good player. 

The dam was far from civilization and the engineers welcomed Jim, although they treated him with the jocularity that his youth andinexperience demanded. The novelty of his environment, the romance ofthe great gray dam, built with such frightful risk and difficulty, absorbed Jim for the first week or so. He had no thought of homesicknessuntil the excitement of his new work began to recede. And then, quiteunexpectedly, it descended on him like a leaden cloud. 

The longing for home! The helpless, hopeless sickness of the heart fordear familiar faces! The seeing of alien places through tear-dimmedeyes, the answering to strange voices with an aching throat, and thepoignancy of memory! Jim's mind dwelt monotonously on the worn spot inthe library hearth rug where he and Uncle Denny had spent so many, manyhours. There was the crack in the brown teapot that his mother would notdiscard because she had poured Big Jim's tea from it. There was UncleDenny's rich Irish voice, "Ah, Still Jim, me boy!" And there wasPen--dear, dear Penelope, with her woman's eyes in her child'sface--with her halo of hair. Pen's "Take me with you, Still, " was thevery peak of sorrow now to the boy. Jim was homesick. And he who has notknown homesickness does not know one of life's most exquisite griefs. 

It seemed to Jim now that he hated the Big Country. At night in his tenthe was conscious of the giant dam lying so silent in the darkness and itmade him feel helpless and alone. By day he hid his unhappiness, hethought. He worked doggedly and did not guess that Charlie Tuckunderstood that many times he saw the designs for the wonderful bronzegates of the sluicing tunnel over which Charlie heckled him for days, through tear-dimmed eyes. 

The camp was lighted by electricity. Jim would sit watching the lightsflare up after supper, watching the night shift on the broad top of thedam which was as wide as a street and try to pretend that the noise andthe light and the figures belonged to 23rd street. Jim was sitting so inthe door of his tent one night after nearly a month in camp. He held hispipe but could not smoke because of the ache in his throat. He had notbeen there long when Charlie Tuck came up the trail and with a nod satdown beside Jim. 

"Let me have a light, " he said. "The fellows are having a rough houseover in the office tonight. Why don't you go over?"

"I don't feel like it, somehow, " replied Jim. 

Tuck nodded. "You may have hated New York while you lived there, but itlooks good now, eh?"

"Yes, " answered Jim. 

"You'll feel better when the Boss begins to give you someresponsibility. Were you ever up in the Makon country, Manning?"

"No, " said Jim. 

"Don't strain yourself talking, " commented Tuck, sarcastically. "You arerather given to blathering, I see. Well, the Makon country wants a dam. It wants it bad but the Service doesn't see how to get in there. Thereis a big valley that has been partially farmed for years. It isenormously fertile, but there is only enough water in it to irrigate alimited number of farms. 

"Now, ten miles to the north, is the Makon river that never fails ofwater. But as near as anyone can find out the only feasible place fordamming it is somewhere in a beastly canyon that no man has ever gonethrough alive. The river is treacherous and the country would make thislook as well manicured as the Swiss Alps. "

Jim listened intently. Charlie Tuck pulled at his pipe for a time, thenhe said: "My end of this job is about finished. I like the exploring endof the work best, anyhow. I was with the Geological Survey for ten yearsbefore the Reclamation Service was created. I made the preliminarysurveys for this project and for the Whitson. I tell you, Manning, that's the greatest work in the world--getting out into the wildernessand finding the right spot for civilization to come and thrive. There'swhere you get a sense of power that makes you feel like a PilgrimFather. The Reclamation Service is a great pipe dream. Some of thefinest men in the country are in it today and nobody knows it. "

"Like Mr. Freet, " said Jim. 

Jim thought that Tuck hesitated for a moment before he answered. "Yes, and a dozen others. I consider it a privilege to work with them. Say, Manning, if some way they could find the right level in that canyon anddrive a tunnel through its solid granite walls, they could send theMakon over into the valley. "

"Why doesn't the Service send a man to explore the crevice?" asked Jim. 

"That's what I say!" cried Tuck. "Just because a lot of cold feet claimit can't be done, just because no man has come through that crevicealive, is no reason one won't. Say, Manning, if I can get the Service tosend me up there, will you go with me?"

"Me!" gasped Jim. 

Tuck nodded in his gentle way. "Yes, you see I like you. You are morecongenial than most of the fellows here to me. On a trip like that youwant to be mighty sure you like the fellow you are going to be with. Then I think you would learn more on a trip like that than in a year ofthe sort of work Freet plans for you. And last, because I think you'vegot the same kind of feeling for the Service that I have though you'vebeen here so short a time. It's something that's born in you. What doyou say, Manning?"

Jim never had felt so flattered in his life. And Adventure called to himlike a ship to a land-locked mariner. 

"Gee!" he cried, "but you're good to ask me, Mr. Tuck! Bet your lifeI'll go!"

Tuck emptied his pipe and rose. "I'll go see Freet now and persuade himto get busy with the Chief in Washington. One thing, Manning. It will bea dangerous undertaking. We may not come through alive. You must getused to the idea, though, that every Project demands its toll of deaths. People don't realize that. Are you willing to go, knowing the risk?"

With all the valor of youth and ignorance, Jim answered, "I'm ready tostart now. "

Mr. Freet was not adverse to the undertaking and the Washington officeshrugged its shoulders. The Project engineer talked seriously to Jim, though, about the danger of the mission and insisted that he write homeabout it before finally committing himself. Jim's letter home, however, would have moved a far more stolid spirit than Uncle Denny, for hesketched the danger hazily and dwelt at length on the honor and glory ofthe undertaking. The reply from the brownstone front was as enthusiasticas Jim could desire. 

Tuck undertook the preparations for the expedition with the utmost care. Only the two of them were to go. The outfit must be such as they couldhandle themselves, yet as complete as possible. Two folding canvasboats, two air mattresses, life preservers, waterproof bags, first aidappliances, brandy, sweet oil, surveying implements, food in as compactform as possible, guns and fishing tackle made a formidable pile for twomen to manage. But at Jim's protest Charlie answered grimly that theywould not be heavily laden when they came out of the canyon. 

It was mid-August when the two men reached the Makon country. Theyarranged with a rancher to take them and their outfit up to the river. There was no road, scarcely even a trail up to the canyon. The green ofthe ranches was encircled by a greasewood-covered plain that, toward theriver, became rock covered and rough so that a wagon was out of thequestion and the sturdy pack horses themselves could move but slowly. 

Jim's first view of the Makon Canyon was of a black rift in a roughbrown sea of sand, with a blue gray sky above. As the little pack traindrew nearer he saw that the walls of the rift were weathered and brokeninto fissures and points of seeming impassable roughness. So deep andso craggy were these walls that the river a half mile below could beseen only at infrequent intervals. The labor of getting into the crevicewould be quite as difficult, Jim thought, as going through it. 

They made camp that night close beside the canyon edge. Early the nextmorning the rancher left them and Charlie and Jim prepared to getthemselves and their outfit down over the mighty, bristling walls. Lowering each other and the packs by ropes, sliding, rolling, jumping, crawling, it was night before they reached the river's edge, where theymade camp. There was a narrow sandy beach with a cottonwood tree growingclose to the granite wall. Under this they put their air mattresses andbuilt their fire. 

Jim did not like the feeling of nervousness he had in realizing how deepthey were below the desert and how narrow and oppressive were the canyonwalls. He was glad that the strenuous day sent them off to bed and tosleep as soon as they had finished supper. They were up at dawn. 

Charlie's purpose was to work down the river, surveying as he went untilhe found a level where the river would flow through a tunnel out ontothe valley. And this level, too, must be at a point where constructionwork was possible. The river was incredibly rough and treacherous. Fromthe first they packed everything in waterproof bags. The canvas canoeswere impractical. The river was full of hidden rock and by the third daythe second canoe was torn to pieces and they were depending on raftsmade from the air mattresses. 

After the canoes were gone, they spent practically all the daylight inthe water, swimming or wading and towing or pushing the mattresses. Thewater was very cold but they were obliged to work so hard that theyscarcely felt the chill until they made camp at night. Jim discoveredthat a transit could be used in a cauldron of water or on a peak of rockwhere a slip meant instant death or clinging to steep walls thatthreatened rock slide at the misplacing of a pebble. 

One arduous task was the locating of a camp at night. The second nightin the camp they were lucky. They found a broad ledge in a spot that atfirst seemed hopeless, for the blank walls appeared here almost to meetabove the deep well of water. There was a little driftwood on the ledgeand they had a fire. The following two nights they were less fortunate. The best they could find were chaotic heaps of fallen rock on which tolay their mattresses, and they slept with extreme discomfort. 

The fifth day was a black day. They were swimming slowly behind theirladen mattresses through deep, smooth black water when, without warning, the river curved and swept over a small fall into heavy rapids. Instantly the mattresses were whirling like chips. The two men foughtlike mad to tow them to a rock ledge, the only visible landing place thecrevice had to offer. But long before this haven was reached themattresses were torn to shreds and Jim and Charlie were glad to reachthe ledge with their surveying instruments and two bags of "grub. " Herethey sat dripping and exhausted. It was nearly dark. Night set in earlyin the canyon. They dared not try to look for a better camping groundthat night. The ledge was just large enough for the two of them, withwhat remained of their dunnage. 

Charlie grinned. "Welcome to our city. Well, it's as good as a Pullmanberth at that. "

"And no harder to dress on, " said Jim, standing up carefully andbeginning to peel off his wet clothes. "I guess if we wring these dudsout and rub with alcohol, they won't feel so cold. "

Charlie rose and began to undress gingerly. "You can stand up to makeyour toilet, " he said, "which is more than the Pullman offers you. "

They ate a cold canned supper and afterward, as they sat shivering, Jimsaid, "If we fail to locate the dam site, no one will have any sympathywith our troubles. "

"We will find it, " said Charlie with the calm certainty he never hadlost. "Jupiter looks as big as a dinner plate down here. Sometimes whenI look at the stars I wonder what is the use of this kind of work. "

Jim looked up at the stars which seemed almost within hand touch. Theirnearness was an unspeakable comfort to the two in the crevice. He spokeslowly but with unusual ease. Charlie Tuck had grown very near to him inthe past few days. 

"I've had a feeling, " he said, "ever since we actually got down here andon the job, that I'm doing the thing I've always been intended to do. Idon't know how I got that feeling because I've always lived in towns. "

"I feel that way every time I go out exploring, " answered Tuck. "I canstand the draughting board just so long and then I break loose. Isuppose someone has got to do these jobs and there is always someonewilling to take the responsibility. Kipling calls it being a Son ofMartha. Do you know those verses?"

"No, " said Jim. "I'd like to hear them. "

Charlie chuckled. "Me reciting Kipling is like hearing a 'co-edyell'--it's the only poem I know, though, and here goes. The Sons ofMartha

 '--say to the Mountains, Be ye removed! They say to the lesser floods, run dry! Under their rods are the rocks reproved. They are not afraid of that which is high. Then do the hilltops shake to their summits, then is the bed of the deep laid bare, That the Sons of Mary may overcome it, pleasantly sleeping and unaware. 

 They do not preach that their God will rouse them a little before the nuts break loose, They do not teach that His pity allows them to leave their work whenever they choose. As in the thronged and the lighted ways, so in the dark and the desert they stand, Wary and watchful all their days that their brethren's days may be long in the land. 

 Lift ye the stone or cleave the wood to make a path more fair or flat, Lo, it is black already with blood some Son of Martha spilled for that. Not as a ladder from Earth to Heaven, not as an altar to any creed, But simple Service, simply given, to their own kind, in their common need. '"

The two men sat in silence after Charlie had finished until he said: "IfI were you I'd read Kipling a good deal. He's good food for a man ofyour type. People don't realize what their comforts cost. I hope thatwhen I die it will be on a Son of Martha job. I'm built that way. Mypeople were New Englanders, then middle west pioneers, and now here Iam, still breaking the wilderness. "

Jim sat with his heart swelling with he knew not what great dream. Itwas the divine fire of young sacrifice, the subtle sense of devotionthat has made men since the world began lay down their lives for thething not seen with the eye. 

"I wish you'd teach me those verses, " said Jim. "We've got to keep awakeor roll off the ledge. "

And so the night passed. 

The next day the way was unspeakably difficult. They made progressslowly and heavily, clambering from rock to rock, clinging to the walls, fighting through rapids. It was past mid afternoon when they ran a levelin a spot of surpassing grandeur. A rock slide had sent a great heap ofstone into the river. Close beside this they set the transit. Forwardthe river swept smoothly round a curve. Back, the two looked on amagnificent series of flying buttresses of serrated granite, their basesguarding the river, their tops remotely supporting the heavens. Thebuttresses nearest the rock heap and on opposite sides of the river werenot two rods apart. 

They ran the levels carefully and then looked at each other in silence. Then they made another reading and again looked at each other. Then theypacked the transit into its rubber bag, sat down on the rock heap andgazed at the marching, impregnable line of buttresses. 

"It will be even higher than the Green Mountain and a hundred timesmore difficult to build, " said Charlie, softly. 

"She'll be a wonder, won't she!" exclaimed Jim. "The Makon dam. It willbe the highest in the world. "

"Granite and concrete! Some beauty that! Eternal as the hills!" saidCharlie. "We will make camp and finish the map here. "

They lay long, looking at the stars that night. "Some day, " said Jim, "there will be a two hundred feet width of concrete wall right where weare lying. Doesn't it make you feel a little hollow in your stomach tothink that you and I have decreed where it shall be?"

"Yes, " said Charlie. "It's a good spot, Manning. I hope I get a chanceto lay out the road down here. They will have to blast it out of thesolid granite. It will eat money up to make it. "

"Let me in on it, won't you, " pleaded Jim. 

"Well, slightly!" exclaimed Charlie. "Now for a good night's sleep. Weought to be out in three days. That will make ten days in all, just whatI planned. "

Jim hardly knew Charlie the next day. No college freshman on his firstholiday ever acted more outrageously. He sang ancient college songs thatreverberated in the canyon like yells on a football field. He stoodsolemnly on his head on the top of rock pinnacles. He crowned himselfand Jim with wreaths made of water cress that he found on a tiny sandybeach. When they were obliged to take to the water he pretended that hewas an alligator and made uncouth sounds and lashed the water with thegrub bag in lieu of a tail. 

Late in the afternoon, while they were swimming through a whirlpool, heinsisted on giving Jim a lecture on the gentle art of bee-hunting as hehad seen it practiced in Maine. 

"Now we will pretend that I am the bee!" he shouted at Jim. "You willadmit that I look like one! I am drunk with honey and I hang to the combthus!"

He caught a point of rock with one hand and lazily waved the other. 

"This is my proboscis, " he explained. 

"For heaven's sake, be careful!" yelled Jim. "This is no bloomingten-cent show! Keep both hands on the rock and climb up for a rest. "

Charlie suddenly went white. "God! I've got cramp!" he screamed. "Bothlegs. Help me, Manning!"

He struggled to get his free hand on the rock, but the water tore at himlike a ravening beast and he lost his hold. Jim swam furiously afterhim. The white head showed for a moment, then disappeared around a turnof the wall. 

CHAPTER VIII

THE BROKEN SEAL

 "When I was young I thought the world was made for love. Now I know that love made the world. "

 MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. 

How he passed the night that followed Jim never was sure. He knew thathe fought his way down stream until long after darkness set in. Then, utterly exhausted, bleeding and bruised, he crawled up onto a rock underthe wall and lay dripping and shivering until dawn. 

He watched the light touch the far top of the crevice, saw the azurestrip of the sky appear and then with a deep groan he forced himself toeat from his grub bag and started hurriedly on down the river. Thestream was much deeper below the point of the accident, with severallarge falls. Jim worked his way along carefully, swimming or floatingfor the most part, for the walls for many miles offered not even ahand-hold nor did they once give back in beach or eddy. 

The loneliness was appalling. The hardship of the work was astonishinglyincreased, robbed of Tuck's unfailing cheerfulness and faith. There wasone moment when, toward sunset, Jim's strength almost failed him. Thewalls were rougher now. He had found a hand-hold but no place for thenight. He clung here until his exhausted arms were able to endure nomore. 

"I can't do any more!" panted Jim. "I'll have to go down. " And then hegave a little childish sob. "'Hang on to what you undertake like a houndto a warm scent, Jimmy!'" he said, brokenly. And new strength flowedinto his arms and he swam on for a few moments, finding then a bit ofshore on which to spend the night. He and Charlie had each carried a mapand a set of instruments. Jim felt that he bore now not only his own butCharlie's responsibility to deliver the maps to Freet. As he lay lookingup at the stars, that second night alone in the crevice, Jim realizedever since he and Charlie had started on the expedition, he had ceasedto be homesick. He realized this when, on this second night, he tried tokeep his nerves in order by thinking very hard of home and he found thathe dwelt most on Exham and his father and the Sign and Seal he had givenPenelope. And that while he longed vaguely for the old brownstone front, he felt with a sudden invigorating thrill that he belonged where he wasand that he was nearer to Exham than he had been since he had leftthere. 

It was nearing evening of the fourth day after Charlie's disappearancethat Jim suddenly saw the canyon walls widen. He struggled at last uponto a sandy beach and looked about him. The canyon walls here, thoughvery rough, gave promise of access to the top. Jim examined the beachcarefully for trace of Charlie and, finding none, he prepared to spendthe night in resting before the stiff climb of the next day. He built afire and ate his last bit of grub, a small can of beans, and fell asleepimmediately. 

At dawn the next morning he began his climb up the bristling walls ofthe canyon. Eleven days before he would have said that to scale thesesickening heights was impossible. But Jim would never be a tenderfootagain. He had been on short rations for three days and was weak fromoverwork. But he had a canteen of water and rested frequently and hewent about the climb with the care and skill of an old mountaineer. Hehad learned in a cruel school. 

Late in the afternoon he crawled wearily over one last knife-edged ledgeand hoisted himself up onto the canyon's top. He was greeted by a faintshout. 

Three men on horseback were picking their way carefully toward him. Jimwaved his hand and dropped, panting, to await their arrival. When theywere within speaking distance, he rose weakly and called:

"Where's Charlie Tuck?"

The three men did not answer until they had dropped from their horsesbeside Jim; then the rancher who had packed the expedition to thecrevice said:

"They picked his body up near Chaseville this morning. We come up asquick as we could for trace of you. You look all in. Here, Dick, getbusy! We brought some underclothes; didn't know what shape you'd be in. Here is the suit you left at my place. God! I thought you'd never needit. Billy, start a fire and cook the coffee and bacon. You've had anawful experience, Mr. Manning, I guess. You don't look the tenderfootkid that went into the canyon!"

"We found the dam site, " said Jim hoarsely. 

"Don't try to talk till you get some grub, " said the man called Billy. 

Clothed and fed, Jim told his story, a little brokenly. The group of menwho listened were used to hardy deeds. They had seen Nature demand hertoll of death again and again in the wilderness. And yet as they satlooking at the young fellow with his gray eyes shocked andgrief-stricken and perceived his boyish idolatry of Charlie Tuck, something like moisture shone in their eyes. They shook hands with Jimwhen he had finished, silently for the most part, though the ranchersaid:

"You're the only man ever came through there alive. They had to buryTuck right off. They'd ought to build a monument for him. Where is hisfolks?"

"He had none, " said Jim. "I want to put up his headstone for him, and Iknow just what lines are going to be put on the stone. "

"They ought to be blamed good, " said Dick. 

"What are they?" asked the ranchman. 

Jim sat for a moment looking down into the fearful depths where Charlieand he had lived a lifetime. Then he said:

 "'Lift ye the stone or cleave the wood, to make a path more fair or flat, Lo, it is black already, with blood some Son of Martha spilled for that! Not as a ladder from Earth to Heaven, not as an altar to any creed, But simple Service, simply given, to his own kind, in their common need. '"

And so Charlie Tuck crossed the Great Divide. 

Jim stopped two days with the rancher and then went back to the GreenMountain dam. The story of the trip through the crevice had precededhim. The men of the Service were inured to the idea of the sacrifice ofblood for the dams. There was little said, some silent handshakes given, and they ceased to haze Jim. He had become one of them. 

The plans for the preliminary surveys of the Makon Project were begun atonce. Jim remained at Green Mountain during the winter, serving hisapprenticeship to the concrete works and the superintendent as Mr. Freethad planned. But in the spring he had his wish and was sent to lay outthe road on the Makon project. 

All this time letters came regularly from the brownstone front, but theywere from Jim's mother and his Uncle Denny for the most part, and theywere very silent about Penelope. Jim wrote Pen from time to time, but hewas not an easy writer and Pen wrote him only gay little notes that werevery unsatisfactory. But Jim was absorbed in his work and did not worryover this. 

Mr. Freet explained to Jim that he needed an "Old Timer" in laying outthe Makon road whose practical experience would supplement Jim'stheories. When Jim reached the survey camp in the Makon valley he foundwaiting for him a small man of about fifty, with a Roman nose, brightblue eyes and a shock of gray hair. This was Iron Skull Williams, whomFreet had described in detail to Jim and who was to be Jim's right hand. He was an old Indian fighter. The Apaches, Freet said, had given him hisnickname because they claimed he would not be killed. Bullets glancedoff his head like rain. Williams was an expert road maker and hadworked much for Freet in various parts of the west. 

Jim and Williams looked each other over carefully and liked each otherat once. They found immediately in each other's society something verychoice. The friendship had not been a week old before Iron Skull hadheard of Exham and the brownstone front and of Penelope. While Jim hadlearned what no other man knew, that Williams' life-long, futile passionhad been for a college education and that he was a bachelor because ablue-eyed, yellow-haired girl had been buried in the Arizona ranges, twenty-five years before. 

Jim's quiet ways and silent tongue did not make him an easy mixer. Theopening up of a project is a rough and lonesome job. Running surveysthrough unknown country where supplies are hard to get and distances arehuge, makes men very dependent on one other for companionship. Jim likedthe young fellows who ran the road surveys with him. He enjoyed the"rough necks, " the men who did the actual building of the road. They allin turn liked Jim. But Jim had not the easy coin of word exchange thatmakes for quick and promiscuous acquaintanceship. So he grew verydependent on Iron Skull, who, in a way, filled both Sara's and UncleDenny's place. 

The old Indian fighter had that strange sense of proportion, thateagle-eyed view of life that the desert sometimes breeds. All the loveof a love-starved life he gave to Jim. 

One evening in April Jim came in from a hard day on horseback. Thespring rains were on and he was mud-splashed and tired but full of agreat content. He had found a short cut on the crevice end of the roadthat would save thousands of dollars in time and material. 

He lighted the lamp in his tent and saw a letter from Uncle Denny on thetable. There was nothing unusual about a letter from Uncle Denny andordinarily Jim waited for his bath and clean clothes before reading it. But this time, with an inexplicable sense of fear, he picked it up andread it at once. 

 "STILL JIM, MY BOY:

 We've had a blow. All the year Penelope has been seeing Saradokis. She has made no bones of it, and he would not let her alone. I could do nothing, though I talked till I was no better than a common scold. But it never occurred to your mother and me that Pen could do what she did. 

 Day before yesterday, just at noon, she called me up at the office and told me she and Sara had just been married at the Little Church Round the Corner and were leaving for Montauk Point in Sara's new high power car. She rang off before I could answer. 

 I sat at my desk, paralyzed. I couldn't even call your mother up. I sat there for half an hour, seeing and hearing nothing when your mother called me up. There had been an accident. Sara had disobeyed a traffic policeman, they had run into a truck at full speed. His car was wrecked. Pen escaped with a broken arm. Sarah had been apparently paralyzed. Pen had him brought to our house. 

 Well, I got home. It has been a fearful two days. Sara is hopelessly paralyzed from the waist down. He may live forever or die any time. He is like a raving devil. 

 Pen--Still Jim, my boy--Little Pen is paying a fearful price for her foolishness. She is like a person wakened from a dream. She says she cannot see what made her give in to Sara. 

 I've made a bad job of telling you this, Jimmy. Your mother says to tell you she understands. She will write later. 

 Love, dear boy, from UNCLE DENNY. "

Jim crumpled the letter into his pocket and dashed out into the night. For hours he walked, heedless of rock or cactus, of rain or direction. He took a fiendish satisfaction in the thought of Sara's tragedy. Otherthan this he did not think at all. He felt as he had at his father'sdeath, rudderless, derelict. 

It was dawn when Iron Skull found Jim sitting on a pile of rock fivemiles from camp. He put his hand on Jim's shoulder. 

"Boss Still, " he said, "what's broke loose? I've trailed you all overthe state. "

Jim looked up into the kindly face and his throat worked. "Iron Skull, "he got out at last, "my--my girl has thrown me down!"

Williams sat down beside him. "Not Penelope?"

Jim nodded and suddenly thrust the crumpled letter into his friend'shands. In the dawn light Williams read it, cleared his throat, and said:

"God! Poor kids! I take it your folks don't like this Sara, though younever said so. "

Jim put his hand on Iron Skull's knee. "Iron Skull, " he said, hoarsely, "I'd rather see Pen laid away there in the Arizona ranges beside yourMary than married to him. He's got a yellow streak. "

The two sat silent for a time, then Williams said: "This love businessis a queer thing. Some men can care for a dozen different women. Butyou're like me. Once and never again. I ain't going to try to comfortyou, partner. I know you've got a sore inside you that'll never heal. It's hell or heaven when a woman gets a hold on your vitals likethat. --My Mary--she had blue eyes and a little brown freckle on hernose--I was just your age when she died. And I never was a kid again. You gotta face forward, partner. Work eighteen hours a day. Marry yourjob. You still owe a big debt for your big brain. Go ahead and pay it. "

Jim did not answer, but he did not remove his hand from Williams' knee, and finally Williams laid a hard palm on it. They watched the sun rise. The rain had ceased. Far to the east where the little camp lay, crimsonspokes shot to the zenith. Suddenly the sun rolled above the desert'sbrim and leading straight and level to its scarlet center lay the roadthat Jim was building. 

"It's a good road, " said Jim unevenly. "It's my first one. I'd plannedto show it to her, this summer. And now, she'll never see it--nor any ofmy work. Iron Skull, she had a bully mind. Just the little notes she'ssent me, show she got the idea of the Projects. I guess I'm a quitter. If I can't keep my girl, what's the use of living?"

The old Indian fighter nodded. "Life is that away, partner. You mostlydo what you can and not what you dream. Some day you'll have to marry. That's where I fell down. These days all us old stock Americans ought tomarry. First you marry your job, Boss Still, then you marry a mother foryour children. "

Jim shook his head. "Pen's thrown me down, " he said drearily. 

Iron Skull waited patiently. At last Jim rose and held out his hand. 

"Thank you, Williams, " he said. 

"Don't mention it, " said Iron Skull Williams. "Glad to do it anytime--that is, I ain't but--Hell, you know how I feel. Come home forsome breakfast. "

Before he went to work that day, Jim wrote a note to Pen. 

 "DEAR PENELOPE: If there is anything I can do, send for me. I can't bear to think of that occasional look of tragedy in your eyes standing for fact. I shall not get over this. Good-by, little Pen!

 JIM. "

Pen's answer to this reached Jim the following week. 

 "DEAR STILL: There is nothing you or anyone else can do. Sara and I must pay the price for our foolishness. I have learned more in the past two weeks than in all my life before. And I shall keep on learning. I can't believe that I'm only eighteen. Write to me once in a while. 

 PENELOPE. "

This was Jim's answer:

 "DEAR PEN: Uncle Denny wrote that you are to stay with him and mother and that Sara's father has arranged matters so that money pinch will not add to your burdens. We three are still mere kids in years so I suppose we shall get over our griefs to some extent. Let me keep at least a part of my old faith in you, Pen. In spite of the Hades you are destined to live through, keep that fine, sweet spirit of yours and keep that unwarped clarity of vision that belonged to the side of you, you showed me. It will help you to bear your trouble and I need this thought of you as much as Sara needs your nursing. I can't write you, Pen, but wire me if you need me. 

 JIM. "

And then, as Iron Skull had bade him, Jim married his job. 

CHAPTER IX

THE MAKON ROAD

 "Always the strongest coyote makes the new trail. The pack is content to continue in the old. "

 MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. 

The building of the road from the valley to the crevice edge was not adifficult task, although the country was rough. The material for makingthe road was at hand, for the most part, and by the end of the summerthere was a broad oiled macadam road, grade carefully proportioned tograde, leading to the canyon's brim. It was a road built to withstandthe wear of thousands of tons of freight that must be hauled over it. 

But the throwing of the road three thousand feet down into the canyonwas a more difficult matter. Here must be built through solid granite aroad down which mule teams could haul all the machinery for the makingof the dam and the tunnel and all the necessities for building theworkingmen's camp in the canyon bottom. 

It must be wide enough to safeguard life. It must be as steep as themules could manage in order to save distance and cost. It must be strongenough to carry enormous weights. Its curves must accommodate teams oftwenty mules, hauling the great length of beam and pipe needed in thework below. And it must be a road that would endure with little expenseof up-keep as long as the dam below would endure. 

It was not a complicated engineering feat. But it was Jim's firstresponsible job. It was his first experience in handling men and a camp. Moses, showing the children of Israel the way across the desert, couldhave felt no more pride or responsibility than did Jim breaking thetrail to the Makon. 

The crevice road was blasted from the granite. It was widened to hanglike a shelf over sickening depths or built up with concrete towithstand the wash from some menacing gorge, or tilted to clingdesperately to a blank wall that offered not even claw hold for theeagles. And always it must drop with a grade that took no account ofreturn freightage. 

"We'll wear the machinery out and leave it at the bottom, " Freet hadsaid. "Even a 25 per cent. Grade will do when necessary. Hustle italong, Manning. I'll be ready to leave the Green Mountain by the timeyou are ready for me at the Makon. "

And Jim hustled. But labor was hard to get. The country was inaccessibleand extraordinarily lonely. There was no place for women or childrenuntil the camp in the canyon should be built, so it was a crowd ofwandering "rough-necks" who built the road. A few were friends of IronSkull, who followed him from job to job. The rest were tramp workmen, men who had toiled all over the world. They were not hoboes. They werejourneyman laborers. They were world workers who had lent willing andcalloused hands to a thousand great labors in a thousand places. 

They came and went like shifting sands. Jim never knew whether he wouldwake to find ten or a hundred men in the camp. He tried for a long timeto solve the problem. Iron Skull considered it unsolvable. He had a lowopinion of the rough-neck. At last he disappeared for a couple of weeksand returned with twenty-five Indians. They were Apaches and Mohavesunder the leadership of a fine austere old Indian whom Iron Skullintroduced to Jim as "Suma-theek. "

"His name means 'I don't know, '" explained Williams. "It's the extent ofhis conversation with the average white who considers an Injun sort of across between a cigar sign and a nigger. Him and I did scout servicetogether for ten years in Geronimo's time. He's my 'blood' brother, which means we've saved each other's lives. He knows more than any twowhites. Color don't make no difference in wisdom, Boss Still, and Iguess the Big Boss up above must have some quiet laughs at the airs thewhites give themselves. "

This was Jim's introduction to another friendship, though it was slow ingrowth. But before the Makon was finished Jim, in the long evening pipeshe smoked under the stars with Suma-theek, learned the truth of IronSkull's statements as to the Indian's wisdom. 

The evening of the day the Indians arrived, a short, heavy man came toJim's tent. He was a foreman and a good one. Jim liked his voice, whichhad a peculiar, tender quality, astonishing in so rough a man. 

"Hello, Henderson, " said Jim. "What can I do for you?"

"Us boys is going out tomorrow. We ain't going to live like Injuns!"

Jim's heart sank. He already was behind on the work. "What's the matterwith the way we live?" he asked. 

"Young fella, " said the man pityingly, "I've worked all over the world, including New York. And I'm telling you that when you try to mix colorsin camp, you've got to grade their ways of living. Now I went to Mr. Williams, but he's one of these queer nuts who thinks what's good enoughfor an Injun is good enough for anyone. "

Jim knew that this was in truth Iron Skull's attitude. He had had noidea, however, that it might breed trouble. He thought rapidly, thenspoke slowly. 

"Look here, Henderson, what would you do in my place? The Director ofthe Service sends out word he'll be here to look the dam site over nextmonth. I want to get the road ready for him to get down there. For sixmonths I've tried to keep a hundred white men on the job and I can't doit. I'll give the Indians a camp of their own. But will that keep youmen here?"

Henderson looked at Jim keenly to see whether or not Jim was sincerelyasking his advice. Jim suddenly smiled at his evident perplexity andthat flashing wistful look got under the red-faced man's skin. 

"Well, " he said, "if I was trying to keep men on a job I'd make thingspleasant for 'em. "

"You have everything I have, " said Jim. "I eat with you. "

"No, we ain't got all you have. We ain't got your job and your chance. You get homesick yourself even on your pay and your chance. What do youthink of us boys, with nothing but wages and a kickout? Let me tellyou, boss, it's the man that takes care of his men's idle hours thatgets the work out of 'em. "

Jim looked at the camp. It was merely a straggling line of tents setalong the crevice edge. The day's work was ended and the men loungedlistlessly about the tents or hung over the corral fence where the mulesmunched and brayed. At that moment Jim made an important stride in hiseducation in handling men. He saw the job for the first time through theworkmen's eyes. Why should they care for the job?

"Look here, " said Jim, "if I send to Seattle and get a good phonographand a couple of billiard tables and some reading matter and set them upin a good big club tent, will you agree to keep a hundred men on the jobuntil I finish the road?"

"Government won't pay for them, " said Henderson. 

"I'll pay for them myself, " returned Jim. "I tell you, Henderson, thisroad means a lot to me. It's my--my first important job and the rest ofmy work on the Makon depends on it. And--and a friend of mine lost hislife finding the dam site and he wanted to build this road. I feel as ifI'm kind of doing his work for him. If doing something to give you boysamusement will keep you here, I'll do it gladly. I haven't anything tosave my money for. "

Henderson cleared his throat and looked down into the awful depths ofthe Makon Canyon. "I heard about that trip, " he said. "If--if you feelthat way about it, Mr. Manning, I guess us boys'll stand by you. Andmuch obliged to you. "

"I'm grateful to you, " exclaimed Jim. "Tell the boys the stuff will behere in less than a month. "

There was a noticeable change in the atmosphere of the camp after thisepisode. The Indians, in their own camp, were perfectly contented withtheir quarters and their hoop game and "kin-kan" for recreation. Thephonograph and billiard tables arrived on time and were set up in theclub tent and Jim and his camp began to do team work. The trouble withshifting labor disappeared except for the liquor trafficking that alwayshounds every camp. From dawn until dark, the canyon rang periodicallywith the thunder of blasts. Scoops shrieked. Mules brayed. Driversyelled. Pick and shovel rang on granite. 

Jim grew to know every inch of that granite wall. He lived on the roadwith the men. No detail of the job was too trivial for his attention. Amore experienced man would have left more to his foremen. But Jim wasnew to responsibility and his nervousness drove him into an intimatecontact with his workmen that was to stand him in good stead all hislife. It was in building this road on the Makon that Jim learned thehearts of those who work with their hands. 

When a fearful slide cost him the lives of two men and half a dozenmules, it was Jim who, in his boyish contrition and fear lest thecatastrophe might have been due to his lack of foresight, insisted onfirst testing the wall for further danger and risked his life in doingso. When a cloudburst sent to the bottom in a half hour a concreteviaduct that had taken a month to build, it was Jim who led the way andheld the place at the head of the line of men, piling up sacks of sandlest the water take out a full half mile of the road. He dreamed of theroad at night, waking again and again at the thought of some weak spothe had left unprotected. 

The rough-necks felt Jim's anxiety and it proved contagious. It may havebeen due to many things, to Jim's youth and his simple sincerity, to hisexample of indefatigable energy and his willingness to work with hishands; it may have been that the men felt always the note of dominationin his character and that that forced some of the cohesion. But whateverthe causes, by the time the road lay a coiling thread from the top ofthe crevice to the spot where poor Charlie Tuck went down, Jim had builtup a working machine of which many an older engineer would have beenproud. 

The day before the Director and Mr. Freet were expected, Jim and IronSkull left for the railway station, twenty-five miles away, to meettheir two superiors. As he mounted his horse, Jim said to Iron Skull:

"I'm a little worried about the wall at the High Point curve. "

"So am I, " answered Iron Skull. "Shall I blast back? I don't need to goin with you. "

"No, " replied Jim. "We couldn't clear out in a week. Wait till the BigBosses go. "

"Better tend to it now, " warned Iron Skull. 

"I'll risk it, " said Jim. And he rode away, Iron Skull following. 

The two were held at the little desert station for a day, waiting forthe two visitors who were delayed at Green Mountain. They returned inthe stage with the Director and Freet, the two saddle horses leadingbehind. Just about a mile outside the camp they were met by Henderson, mounted on one of the huge mules, that shone with much grooming. 

The stage pulled up and Henderson dismounted and bowed. 

"I come out to meet you gents, " he said, in his tender voice, "representing the Charles Tuck Club of Makon, to tell you we hope you'dnot try to go down the Canyon this afternoon, as us citizens of Makonhad got up a few speeches and such for you. "

Jim and Iron Skull were even more amazed than the two visitors, and satstaring stupidly, but the Director rose nobly to the occasion. 

"Thank you, " he said. "What is the Charles Tuck Club?"

Henderson mounted his mule and rode on the Director's side of the stage. 

"It's the club we formed for using the phonograph and billiard tablesthe Boss give us. If you gents don't care, I'll ride ahead and tell 'emyou're coming. "

"Gee!" exclaimed Jim, as the mule disappeared up the broad ribbon ofroad. "What do you suppose they are up to?"

"This is going some for a small camp!" said the Director. "The menusually don't care whether I come or go. "

Jim shook his head. They reached the camp shortly after Henderson andwere led by that gentleman to the club tent, where fully half the campwas gathered. The phonograph was set to going as they came in andfollowing this, Baxter, the orator of the camp, got up and made a speechof welcome that consumed fifteen minutes of time and his entirevocabulary. It was concerned mostly with praises of Jim and his workwith the men. When he had finished, the phonograph gave them "America"by a very determined male quartet. The perspiring Henderson then ledthem to the mess tent, where a late dinner or an early supper was setforth that had taxed the resources of the desert camp to its utmost. 

It was dusk when the meal was finished, and then and then only didHenderson allow Iron Skull to lead the visitors to their tents while hetook Jim by the arm and drew him to the crevice edge. 

"Boss, " he said, "not half an hour after you left, the whole dod dingedwall on the High Point curve slid out. Well, sir, we all know'd there'dbe hell to pay for you if the two Big Bosses come and see that. Wecouldn't stand for it after all you'd worried over it. We fixed up threeshifts. It's moonlight and, say, if we didn't push the face off thatslide! Old Suma-theek, why he never let his Injuns sleep! They workedthree shifts. Even at that you'd a beat us to it if we hadn't thought ofthis here committee of welcome deal. If I do say it, I've mixed withgood people in my time. We kept the big mitts in there and one of theInjuns just brought me word the road was clear. "

Jim stared at his rough-neck friend for a minute, too moved to speak. Then he held out his hand. 

"Henderson, you've saved me a big mortification. I knew that wall shouldhave been blasted back. Gee! Henderson! I'll remember this!"

"You're welcome, " replied Henderson gently. "Don't let on to anyone butWilliams and us fellows is mum. "

And so the Director made his trip down and up the Makon Road and praisedmuch the forethought and care that Jim had expended on it. And Jim, because the secret meant so much to his men, did not tell of theirdevotion until the Director had gone and Arthur Freet was established onthe job. And after he had heard the story Freet said, looking at Jimkeenly:

"You know what that kind of carelessness deserves, Manning?"

Jim nodded and Freet laughed at his serious face. "Pshaw, boy! Yourhaving gotten together an organization with that sort of motive powerwould offset worse carelessness than that. Get ready to shove them intothe tunnel. "

So Jim's rough-necks began to open the tunnel. 

The Makon Project was a six years' job. Freet gave Jim a chance at everyangle of the work. Jim admired his chief ardently and yet the two nevergrew confidential. Freet, in fact, had no confidants among thegovernment employees, but he seemed to know a great many of thepoliticians of the valley and of the state. And when he was not toodeeply immersed in the work at hand Jim felt vaguely troubled by this. 

And the problems of actual construction were so many that the dam andtunnel were completed and Jim had begun work on the ditches before herealized that there was a whole group of questions he must face that hadnothing to do with technical engineering. 

For the first mile the tunnel had to be driven through solid granite. Then the way led through adobe hills, so soft that the sagging wallswere a constant menace. Not until six workmen had died at the job wasthe adobe finally sealed with concrete. After the adobe came sand, spring riddled. More rough-necks gave up their lives fighting thegushing floods and falling walls, until at last the tunnel emerged intothe open foothills of the valley. 

During all this time, the men for whom Jim had spent his first savingsstayed solidly by him, save those whom death called out. After the campin the canyon was built, many of them, including Henderson, developedunsuspected families and Jim became godfather to several namesakes. After the road was finished, however, old Suma-theek had to take hisbraves back to the Apache country. They did not like the work in thetunnel, and it was several years before Jim saw his old friend again. 

Uncle Denny and Jim's mother came out to visit him, his second summer onthe dam, and they enjoyed their visit so much that it became a yearlycustom. 

Jim's mother, with a mother's wisdom, never spoke of Pen to Jim exceptcasually, of her health or of Sara's effort to carry on real estatebusiness through Pen and his father. On the first visit Uncle Dennyundertook to tell Jim of how the accident had developed all the latentugliness of Sara's character and of his heavy demands on Penelope'sstrength and time. And he told Jim how Pen's girlishness haddisappeared, leaving behind a woman so sweet, so patient, so sadly wise, that Uncle Denny could not speak of her without his voice breaking. 

But Uncle Denny never repeated this recital, for before he had finished, Jim, white-lipped, had said hoarsely, "Uncle Denny, I can't stand it! Ican't!" and had rushed off into the desert night. 

Even Uncle Denny could not know, as Iron Skull who had lived with himfor the past years knew, of Jim's silent anguish in the loss ofPenelope. There was a little picture of Pen in tennis clothes at sixteenthat always was pinned to Jim's tent wall. Once in a while when IronSkull found him looking at it, Jim would tell him of Pen's beauty. Butother than this he never mentioned her name to anyone. 

Under the excitement of what Uncle Denny told him, Jim wrote a note toPen:

 "DEAR LITTLE PEN: This desert country claims one's soul as well as one's body. It is as big as the hand of God. If life gets too much for you in New York, come to me here, and I will show you and the desert to each other. 

 JIM. "

And though Pen did not answer the note she carried it next her heart formany a day. 

After the tunnel was delivering water to the valley, Jim moved into thevalley with his henchmen and took charge of the canal building. Notuntil he undertook this work did he realize that there were economicfeatures connected with the work on the Projects that were baffling andirritating. 

The conditions in the valley were complex. A small portion of it hadbeen farmed for many years. These farmers felt that the canals ought tocome to them first. As soon as it had become known that the ReclamationService was to undertake the Makon project, real estate sharks hadgotten control of much land and by misinforming advertisements hadinduced eastern people to buy farms in the valley. 

Other people, sometimes farmers, oftener folk who had failed in everyother line of business, took up land long before even the road to thedam was finished. These people waited in a pitiful state of hardshipfive years for water. They blamed the Service and they fought for firstwater. 

There were Land Hogs in the valley; men who by illegal means hadacquired thousands of acres of land, although the law allowed them butone hundred and sixty acres. After the Project was nearing completionthese Land Hogs sold parcels of their land at inflated prices. The LandHogs were wealthy and had influence in the community. They threatenedtrouble if canals were not built first to them. 

Jim turned a deaf ear to all the contending forces. His reply was thesame to each:

"There is just one way to build a canal and that is where, influencedonly by the lie of the land, it will do the greatest good to thegreatest number. I'm an engineer, not a politician. Get out and let mework. "

Yet for all his deaf ear, there percolated to Jim's inner mind facts andinsinuations that disturbed him. Day after day there poured into hisoffice not only complaints about the actual work, but accusations ofgraft. "The Service was working for the rich men of the valley. " "TheService had its hand behind its back. " "The Service was extravagant andwasteful of the people's money. " "Every cent that the Project cost mustbe paid back by the farmers. What right had the Service to makemistakes?"

In all the cloud of complaints, Jim maintained a persistent silence andplaced his canals without fear or favor. One morning in March, it wasJim's fifth year on the Makon, Mr. Freet sent for him. 

"Manning, " he said, as Jim dropped off his horse and stood in thedoorway, "how about the canal through Mellin's place?"

Jim tossed his hair back from his face and lighted a cigarette. "Mellin, the Land Hog?" he asked. "Well, his canal's like the apple core. Thereain't going to be one!"

Freet's small black eyes met Jim's clear gaze levelly. "Why?" he asked. 

Jim looked surprised. "Why, you know, Mr. Freet, that to run it throughMellin's place will cost $5, 000 more and will force half a dozen farmersto double the length of their ditches. The lie of the canal in relationto grade, too, is a half mile east of Mellin's place. "

Arthur Freet raised his eyebrows. "I think that the canal had better gothrough Mellin's place. "

Jim drew a quick breath. There was silence in the little sheet ironoffice for a moment and then Jim said, "I can't do it, Mr. Freet. "

"This is not a matter for you to decide, Manning, " replied Freet. "A manin my position has more to consider in building a dam than the mereengineering 'best. ' I must think of the tactful thing, the thing thatwill save the Service trouble. Mellin has pull with Congress, enough tostart an investigation. "

"Let them investigate!" cried Jim. "I'd like them to see what I callsome darn good engineering! I do think you got soaked on some of thecontract work, though. Those permanent caretakers' houses could havebeen built for half the price. "

Freet raised his eyebrows. "Put the canal through Mellin's place, Manning. "

Jim flushed. "I can't do it! The west canal had to go through that LandHog Howard's place, I'm sorry to say. It was the cheapest and best site. Every farmer in the valley dressed me down about it, in person and bymail. But I haven't cared! It was the right thing. But nothing doing onMellin's place. "

Freet smiled a little. "Do you want me to go over your head?"

Jim gave him a clear look. "You can have my resignation whenever youwant it, Mr. Freet. "

And Jim mounted and rode heavily back to his office. 

CHAPTER X

THE STRENGTH OF THE PACK

 "The lone hunter finds the best hunting but he must fight and die alone. "

 MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. 

That night, when Iron Skull Williams stopped at Jim's tent to speak ofsome detail of the work, Jim told him about the conversation with Freet. 

"Iron Skull, " he said in closing, "if I've got to mix up in politics, I'll quit, that's all. It's not my idea of engineering. My heavens! Ifthe engineers of the country are not going to be left unsmirched to dotheir work, what's going to become of civilization? You know how I'vealways admired Arthur Freet. You know how I appreciate the chances he'sgiven me to get ahead. And now----"

Iron Skull grunted. "I guess he hasn't hurt his own reputation any byletting you do a lot of his work for him while he played another end ofthe game. You are a great pipe dreamer, Boss Still. You want to rememberthat the Service is made up of human beings. "

"Do you mean there _is_ graft in the Service?" asked Jim sharply. 

The older man answered gently, for he knew he was hurting Jim. "TheService is the cleanest bureau in the government. I'll bet you can counton one hand the men in it who don't toe quite straight. "

Jim drew a quick breath. "I don't believe there is a crook in theService. "

"How about the sale of the water power up at Green Mountain?" askedWilliams. "Do you think that was an open deal? Did the farmers havetheir chance?"

Jim flushed. "I never let myself think about it, " he muttered. 

Iron Skull nodded. "You've lived in a fool's paradise, Boss Still, and Ifor one don't see that you help the Service by shutting your eyes. Youknow as well as I do that the United States Reclamation Service isdeveloping some mighty important water power propositions. Do you thinkit's like poor old human nature to argue that the Water Power Trustain't going to get hold of that power if it can or try to destroy theService if it can't?"

Jim rubbed his forehead drearily. "Iron Skull, isn't there anything afellow can keep his faith in?"

"Pshaw!" answered Williams, "you can keep your faith in the Service!This here is just like finding out that, though your wife is a mightyfine woman, she has her weak points!"

Jim stared at the lamp for a long time. 

"What you looking at, partner?" asked Iron Skull. 

"Oh, I was seeing the Green Mountain dam the way I first saw it and Iwas seeing Charlie Tuck and those days of ours in the canyon andthinking of what he said about the Service. He believed in it the way Ihave. And then I was thinking about the bunch of men who've stucktogether and by me for five years, like a pack of wolves, by jove! And Iwas thinking of those lines, you know, 'The strength of the pack is thewolf and the strength of the wolf is the pack. ' That is what the Serviceought to be like, the Pack, and if one man goes bad the strength of thepack is hurt. "

The older man nodded. Then he said, "What are you going to do about itall, Boss Still?"

Jim brought his fist down on the table. "I'm an engineer. I deal withhard facts, not intrigues. Freet must take me so or not at all. "

"Well, you are half right and half wrong, " commented Iron Skull, rising. 

"What do you mean?" asked Jim. 

"I mean that you have got an awful lot to learn yet before you will beof big value to the Service, but you've got to learn it with your elbowsand sweating blood. You're that kind. Nothing I can say will help you. Good night, partner!"

The next morning Jim reported at Freet's office. "Mr. Freet, " he saidcarefully, "I have a lot of pride in the reputation of the ReclamationService. If we put a canal through Mellin's place it'll give people areal cause for complaint. I shall have to resign if you insist on mydoing it. "

Freet laughed sardonically. "The Service can't afford to lose you, evenif you do live in the clouds! Why, I broke you in myself, Manning, andyou are one of the best men in the Service today, bar none. We will letthe Mellin matter rest for a while. "

Jim blushed furiously under his chief's praise and with a brief "Thankyou, " he turned away. 

It was a little over two months later that Jim received an order fromWashington to proceed to the Cabillo Project in the Southwest. Theengineer in charge there was in poor health and Jim was to act as hisassistant. Jim was torn between pleasure at his promotion anddispleasure over Freet's obvious purpose of getting him away from theMakon. 

But the utter relief in not having to fight the Mellin matter to afinish triumphed over the displeasure and Jim left the Makon for theSouthwest with Iron Skull, while trailing after him came the Pack who, to a man, suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to winter in the desert. 

Jim missed the Makon very much at first. He had all the love of a fatherfor his first born for the Project, for which Charlie Tuck had died. Atfirst, he felt very much a stranger on this new Project. Watts, theengineer in charge, was a sick man. He was a gentle, lovable fellow offifty, and he was taking very much to heart the heckling that theService was receiving on his Project. His illness had caused the work onthe dam to fall behind. Jim closed his ears and his mouth, placed IronSkull and his Pack judiciously on the works and started full steam aheadto build the Cabillo dam. 

Six months after Jim's arrival Watts died and Jim succeeded to his job, which day by day grew more complicated. The old simple life of the Makonwhen, heading his faithful rough-necks, Jim ate up the work, with nothought save for the work, was gone. Jim's job on the Cabillo was notthat of engineer alone. He had not only to build the dam but to rule anorganization of two thousand souls. He was sole ruler of an isolateddesert community and he was the buffer between the office at Washingtonand all the contending and jealous forces that were rapidly developingin the valley. 

The United States Reclamation Service is in the Department of theInterior. Jim had been at Cabillo two years when the new Secretary ofthe Interior summoned him to Washington. 

The new Secretary had found his office flooded with complaints about theReclamation Service. He had found, too, a report from the CongressionalCommittee which had the year before investigated several of theProjects. Being of a patient and inquiring turn of mind, the Secretaryhad decided to go to the heart of the matter. Therefore he invited thecomplainants to come to Washington to see him. He summoned the Directorand Jim with several other of the Project engineers, Arthur Freet amongthem, to appear before him, with the complainants. 

May in Washington is apt to be very warm, although very lovely to lookupon. Jim, so long accustomed to the naked height and sweep of thedesert country, felt half suffocated by the low hot streets of thecapitol. He went directly from the train to the Hearing, which was heldin one of the Secretary's offices. The room was large and square, with adesk at one end, where the Secretary was sitting. When Jim entered, theplace already was filled to overflowing with irrigation farmers or theirlawyers, with land speculators, with Congressmen and reporters. 

The Secretary was a large man with a smooth shaven, inscrutable face andblue eyes that were set far apart under overhanging brows. He looked atJim keenly as the young engineer made his way to his seat in the frontof the room. He saw the same Jim that had said good-bye to the littlegroup in the station eight years before; the same Jim, with someimportant modifications. 

He was tanned to bronze, of course. He had sun wrinkles at the cornersof his eyes. His mouth was thinner and the corners not so deep. The oldscowl between his eyes had traced two permanent lines there. The mass ofbrown hair still swept his dreamer's forehead. His jaws had become thejaws of a man of action. 

Jim sat down, folded his arms and crossed his knees, fixing his gaze onthe patch of blue sky above the building opposite the open window. Forfive days he sat so, without answering a charge that was brought againsthim. 

For five days the Secretary sat with entire patience urging every man tospeak his mind fully and freely. And if bitterness toward the Servicebetokened free speaking, the complainants held back nothing. 

A heavy set man, tanned and cheaply dressed, said: "Mr. Secretary, I wasborn in Hungary. I am a tinner by trade. I lived in Sioux City. I have awife and six children. I got consumption and a real estate man fixed itup with a friend of his on the Makon Project that I go out there, see?It took all I saved but they told me crops the first year will pay allmy living expenses. I buy forty acres. 

"Mr. Secretary, I get no crops for five years. I hauled every drop ofwater we use seven miles from a spring for five years. Some days we gotnothing to eat. Me and my oldest boy, we work for Mellin when we canand we stayed alive till the water come. I get cured of my consumption. But my money is gone. I can buy no tools, no nothing. And, Mr. Secretary, when the canal do come they run it through Mellin's place. Mymoney is gone and I can't afford to dig the long ditch to Mellin's. Mellin's place is green and mine is still desert. "

"Are there no small farmers or settlers who are succeeding on the MakonProject?" asked the Secretary. 

"Yes, sir, " replied the man, "many, but also, many like me. "

"Then is your complaint against the real estate sharks or thegovernment?" persisted the Secretary. 

"Against both!" cried the man. "Why did that Freet give Mellin and theother big fellow first choice in everything? Why must I pay for what Ican't get?"

There were several farmers from different projects who had stories thatmatched the ex-tinner's. When they had finished, the Secretary called ona real estate man who had come with a protest about the running of thecanals on the Makon. 

"What was the net value of the crops on the Makon Project last year, "asked the Secretary. 

"About $500, 000, I think. "

"What was it, say the year before the Reclamation Service went inthere?"

"Perhaps $100, 000. "

"We are to believe, then, that some people have found the Serviceuseful?"

"Oh, yes, Mr. Secretary, there are a whole lot of contented farmers upthere who are too busy with their bumper crops to come to Washington, even if they wanted to. "

The real estate man sat down and the Secretary called on the Chairman ofthe Congressional investigating committee to make a brief summary of hischarges. 

The Chairman said, succinctly: "I charge the Service with graft, grossextravagance and inefficiency. I call on you to remove the Director andfour of his engineers, including Arthur Freet and James Manning, who arepresent. "

"Of what specific things do you accuse Mr. Manning?" asked theSecretary, with a glance at Jim's impassive face. 

"His Project is full of mistakes, some of them small, that, nevertheless, aggregate big and show the trend of the Service. Up on theMakon he made a road at a cost of a hundred thousand dollars that onlythe Service used. He's put a thousand dollars into telephone boothswhere two hundred would have been ample. Some of the canal concrete workhas had to be dynamited out and done over and over again. The farmerpays for all this. Manning refuses to take any advice from the farmerson the Project, men who were irrigating before he was born. His everyidea seems hostile to the farmer, whose land the farmer himself ispaying him to irrigate. Manning was trained by Freet, Mr. Secretary. "

The Secretary tapped his desk softly for several moments, as if turningover in his mind the opposing evidence brought out during the severaldays of the Hearing. Jim had not been called on but Arthur Freet and twoother Project engineers had spent an entire day on the stand, quizzedunmercifully by everyone in the room. They had disclaimed everyaccusation. The Director of the Service, a quiet man of marvelousexecutive ability, had made a bitter return attack on the CongressionalCommittee, the farmers, the real estate men and the lawyers, accusingthem of being the conscious or unconscious tools of the Water PowerTrust, whose object was to destroy the Service. 

An elderly Senator had risen and had addressed the Hearing. "I was oneof the fathers of the Reclamation Act. One of the fundamental ideas ofthe Act was that it was not governmental charity but that every farmerwhose arid acres were watered would be willing to pay for it. I see butone thing in all these protests against the Service and that is theattempt to repudiate the debt incurred by the farmers to the Service. And the attempt to repudiate is most bitter with the very men whopleaded most loudly with the Government to irrigate their land and whovoluntarily pledged themselves to pay back during an easy period ofyears the cost of the Projects. If it is a fact that this tainted ideaof Repudiation is creeping among the land owners on the Projects, I warnyou all that I shall use all my influence to have the Reclamation Actrepealed. "

As the old Senator had finished half the men in the room had risen totheir feet, angrily denying any thought of repudiation. 

Now, after tapping his desk thoughtfully, the Secretary looked at Jim. 

"Mr. Manning, please take the stand. "

Jim unfolded his long legs and strode up beside the Secretary's desk. Hestood there struggling for words that would not come. For five days hehad sat thinking of the three Projects that he knew. He recalled CharlieTuck and the two other engineers who had laid down their lives for thedams. He pictured again the drowned and mangled workmen at the cost ofwhose lives the Makon tunnel had been driven. A slow, bitter anger hadrisen in him against Freet. It seemed to Jim a fearful thing that onecrooked man could taint such faithfulness and sacrifice as he had known, could blind intelligent men to the marvel of engineering work thatmarked the progress of the Reclamation Service through the arid country. But when Jim's words came, they were futile. 

"I don't know, " he said in his father's casual drawl, "that I haveanything to say to the specific charges against me. The Director hascovered the ground better than I can. I have the feeling that if theactual work we have done out west, the actual acreage we have brought toprofitable bearing won't speak to you people who have seen it, nothingelse will. The flood season is coming on, Mr. Secretary. I would suggestthat you send either me or my successor out to my dam. "

The Secretary's face was quite as inscrutable as Jim's. "Mr. Manning, why do you put so much money into roads?"

Jim's eyes fired a little. "I believe that one of the functions ofgovernment is to build good roads. Actually, the heavy freightage thatmust pass over these roads makes it essential that they be first class. A cheap road would be expensive in time and breakage. "

"How about the accusations of mismanagement?"

"I have made mistakes, " replied Jim, "and some of them have beenexpensive ones in lives and money. Many of our engineering problems areentirely new and we have to solve them without precedent. The punishmentfor a bad guess in engineering is always sure and hard. One can make abad political guess and escape. "

"How about the accusation of graft?" continued the Secretary. 

Jim whitened a little. He looked over the Secretary's head out at thepatch of blue sky and then back at the room full of hostile faces. 

"If any man in the Service, " he said slowly, "can be shown to bedishonest, no punishment can be too severe for him. " Jim paused and thenwent on, half under his breath as if he had forgotten his audience. "Thestrength of the pack is the wolf. It's disloyalty in the pack that'shelping the old American spirit down hill. "

The Secretary's eyes deepened but he repeated, quietly, "And as to_your_ graft, Mr. Manning?"

Jim hesitated and whitened again under his bronze. If ever a man lookedguilty, Jim did. 

There was at this point a sudden scraping of a chair, the clatter of anoverturned cuspidor and a stout, elderly man at the rear of the roomjumped to his feet. 

"Mr. Secretary, " he cried, "may I say a word?"

"Who are you?" asked the Secretary. 

"I'm a New York lawyer, but I know the Projects like the back of mehand. And I know Jim Manning as I know me own soul. You've let everyonehave free speech here. Manning didn't know till this minute that I wasin town. My name is Michael Dennis, your honor. "

The Secretary smiled ever so slightly as he glanced from Jim's face tothat of the speaker. Jim's jaw was dropped. He was shaking his headfuriously at Uncle Denny while the latter nodded as furiously at Jim. 

"Mr. Manning seems unwilling to speak for himself. Since you know him sowell, Mr. Dennis, we'll hear what you have to say. You may be seated, Mr. Manning. "

Jim moved back to his place reluctantly and Uncle Denny made his way tothe front, talking as he went. 

"Of course, he won't speak for himself, Mr. Secretary. He never could. Still Jim we call him. Still Jim they name him on all the Projects andStill Jim he is here before this crowd of mixed jackals and jackasses. He never could waste his energy in speech, as I'm doing now. I've oftenthought he had some fine inner sense that taught him even as a childthat if it's hard to speak truth, its next to impossible to hear it. Sohe just keeps still. 

"You've heard him accused of graft, Mr. Secretary, and of inefficiencyand of any other black phrase that came handy to these people. Yourhonor, it's impossible! It's not in his breed of mind! If you could haveseen him as I have! A child of fifteen working in the pit of askyscraper and crying himself to sleep nights for memory of his fatherhe'd seen killed at like work, yet refusing money from me till I marriedhis mother and made him take it. If you had seen him out on yourProjects, cutting himself off from civilization in the flower of hisyouth and giving his young life blood to his dams! I know he's receivedoffers of five times his salary from a corporation and stayed by hisdam. I've seen him hang by a frayed cable with the flood round his armpits, arguing, heartening the rough-necks for twenty-four hours at astretch, the last man to give in, for his dam! I've seen him takechances that meant life or death for him and a hundred workmen and tenthousand dollars worth of material and win for his dam, for a pile ofstones that was to bring money to the very men here who are howling himdown. For his dam, that's wife and child to him, and they accuse him ofprostituting it! Bah! You fools! Don't you know no money-getter worksthat way? He's a trail builder, Mr. Secretary. He's the breed that opensthe way for idiots like these and they follow in and trample himunderfoot on the very trail he has made for them!"

Uncle Denny stopped. There was a moment's hush in the room. Jim watchedthe patch of blue with unseeing eyes. As Uncle Denny started back to hisseat there rose an angry buzz, but the Secretary raised his hand. 

"Gentlemen! Gentlemen! Turn about is fair play. Remember that you havecalled the Reclamation Engineers some very foul names. Mr. Manning, Icannot see why you should not return to the flood at your dam and youother engineers to your respective posts, there to await word from yourDirector as to the results of this Hearing. You yourselves must realizeafter hearing all sides that I can take action only after carefuldeliberation. I thank you all for your frankness and patience with me. "

As the room cleared, Uncle Denny puffed down on Jim. "Still Jim, me boy, don't be sore at me. I should have spoken if I'd been a deaf mute!"

Jim took Uncle Denny's hands. "Uncle Denny! Uncle Denny! You shouldn'thave done it, yet how can I be sore at you!"

"That's right, " said Uncle Denny. "You can't be! Oh, I tell you, I feelabout you as I do about Ireland! I'm aching for some blundering fool tosay something that I may knock his block off! When are you going back?"

"Tonight, " replied Jim. "Come up to the hotel and talk while I pack. Ican't wait an hour on the flood. How are mother and Pen?"

"Fine! Your mother and I are the most comfortable couple on earth. Wetook it for granted you'd come up to New York. You got me letter aboutSara and Pen before you left the dam, didn't you?"

"No. What letter?" asked Jim. 

The two were walking up to the hotel now. Uncle Denny threw up both hishands. "Soul of me soul! They are out there by now. It all happened veryunexpectedly and I did me best to head him off. I must admit Pen was nohelp to me there. "

"But what----" exclaimed Jim. 

Uncle Denny interrupted. "I don't know, meself. You gave Sara's name toFreet some time ago, two years ago, when he wanted to do some realestate business in New York. Well, ever since Sara has had the westernland speculation bug, and lately nothing would do but he must get out toyour Project. They are waiting there now for you if Sara killed no oneen route. There is so much peace in the old brownstone front now, StillJim, that your mother and I fear we will have to keep a coyote in theparlor to howl us to sleep!"

Jim turned a curiously shaken face on Dennis. "Do you mean that Pen, _Pen_ is out at the Dam? That she will be there when I get back?"

Uncle Denny nodded. "Pen and _Sara_! Don't forget Sara. Me heartmisgives me as to his purpose in going. "

"Penelope at my dam?" repeated Jim. 

Uncle Denny looked at Jim's tanned face. Then he looked away and hisIrish eyes were tear-dimmed. He said no more until they were in Jim'sroom at the hotel. Jim began to pack rapidly and Uncle Denny remarked, casually:

"Penelope is Saradokis' wife, you know. "

Jim's drawl was razor-edged. "Uncle Denny, she never was and never willbe Saradokis' wife. "

"Oh, I know! Only in name! But--I may as well tell you that I think shewas unwise in going to you. "

Jim walked over to the window, then slowly back again. His clear grayeyes searched the kindly blue ones. "Uncle Denny, why do you supposethis thing happened to Pen?"

The Irishman's voice was a little husky as he answered: "To make a grandwoman of her. She's developed qualities that nothing else on earth couldhave developed in her. It's because of her having grown to be what sheis that I didn't want her to go to you. I--Oh, Still Jim, me boy! Meboy!"

For just a moment Jim's lips quivered, then he said, "We shall see whatthe desert does for us, " and he closed his suitcase with a snap. 

CHAPTER XI

OLD JEZEBEL ON THE RAMPAGE

 "Old Jezebel is a woman. For years she keeps her appointed trail until the accumulation of her strength breaks all bounds and she sweeps sand and men before her. "

 MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. 

There is a butte in the Cabillo country that they call the Elephant. 

Picture a country of lavenders and yellows and blues; an open, barrenland, with now a wide sweep of desert, now a chaos of mesa and mountain, dead volcano and eroded plain. The desert, a buff yellow where bluedistance and black shadow and the purple of volcano spill have notstained it. The mountains, bronze and lavender, lifting scarred peaks toa quiet sky; a sky of turquoise blue. The Rio del Norte, a brown streak, forcing a difficult and roundabout course through ranges and desert. 

In a rough desert plain, which is surrounded by ranges, stands a broadbacked butte that was once a volcano. The Rio del Norte sweeps in acurve about its base. Time and volcanic crumblings and desert wind havecarved the great beast into the semblance of an elephant at rest. Thegiant head is slightly bowed. The curved trunk droops, but the eyes arewide open and the ears are slightly lifted. By day it is a rich, redbronze. By night, a purple that deepens to black. Watching, brooding, listening, day or night, the butte dominates here the desert and theriver and the ranges. 

This is the butte that they call the Elephant. 

Below this butte the Service was building a dam. It was a hugeundertaking. When finished the dam would be as high as a twenty-storybuilding and as long as two city blocks. It would block the river, turning it into a lake forty miles long, that would be a perpetual watersupply to over a hundred thousand acres of land in the Rio del Nortevalley. 

The borders of the Rio del Norte have been cultivated for centuries. Long before the Puritans landed in New England, the Spanish who followedCoronado planted grape vines on the brown river's banks. The Spanishfound Pueblo Indians irrigating little hard-won fields here. Theirrigation ditches these Indians used were of dateless antiquity and yetthere were traces left of still older ditches used by a people who hadgone, leaving behind them only these pitiful dumb traces of heroic humaneffort. After the Spanish came the Americans, patrolling their ditcheswith guns lest the Apaches devastate their fields. 

Spanish, Indians, Americans all fought to bring the treacherous Rio delNorte under control, but failure came so often that at last they unitedin begging the Reclamation Service for aid. It was to help these peopleand to open up the untouched lands of the valley as well, that the damwas being built. And the building of it was Jim's job. 

Jim jumped off the bobtailed train that obligingly stopped for him at alone shed in the wide desert. In the shed was the adobe splashedautomobile which Jim had left there on his trip out. He threw his suitcase into the tonneau, cranked the engine and was off over the roughtrail that led to the Project Road. 

A few miles out he met four hoboes. They turned out for the machine andJim stopped. 

"Looking for work at the dam?" he asked. 

"What are the chances?" asked one of the group. 

"Fine! Get in! I'm engineer up there. You're hired. "

With broad grins the three clambered aboard. The man who sat beside Jimsaid: "We heard flood season was coming on and thought you'd like extrahelp. Us boys rode the bumpers up from Cabillo. "

Jim grunted. Labor-getting continued to be a constant problem for allthe valuable nucleus formed by the Park. Experts and the offscourings ofthe earth drifted to the great government camp and Jim and all hisassistants exercised a constant and rigid sifting process. He did nottalk much to his new help. His eyes were keen to catch the first glimpseof the river. The men caught his strain and none of them spoke again. Cottontails quivered out of sight as the automobile rushed on. Anoccasional coyote, silhouetted against the sky, disappeared as if bymagic. Swooping buzzards hung motionless to see, then swept on into theheavens. 

Jim was taking right-angled curves at twenty-five miles an hour. Thehoboes clung to the machine wild-eyed and speechless. Up and up, round atwisted peak and then, far below, the river. 

"She's up! The old Jezebel!" said Jim. 

The machine slid down the mountainside to the government bridge. Thebrown water was just beginning to wash over the floor. Across thebridge, Jim stopped the machine before a long gray adobe building. Ittopped a wide street of tents. Jim scrawled a line on an old envelopeand gave it to one of the hoboes. 

"Take that to the steward. Eat all you can hold and report wherever thesteward sends you. "

Then he went on. Regardless of turn or precipice the road rose in asteady grade from the lower camp where the workmen lived, a half mile tothe dam site. Jim whirled to the foot of the cable way towers and jumpedout of the machine. 

The dam site lay in a valley, a quarter of a mile wide, between twomountains. Above the dam lay the Elephant. A great cofferdam built nearthe Elephant's base diverted the river into a concrete flume that ranalong the foot of one of the mountains. The river bed, bared by thediverting of the stream, was filled with machinery. An excavation sixtyfeet below the river bottom and two hundred feet wide was almostcompleted. Indeed, on the side next the flume there already rose abovethe river bed a mighty square of concrete, a third the width of theriver. Jim had begun the actual erection of the dam. 

The two mountains were topped by huge towers, supporting cables thatswung above the dam site. The cables carried anything from a man to alocomotive, from the "grab buckets" that bit two tons of sand at amouthful from the excavation, to a skid bearing a motion picture outfit. 

Work was going on as usual when Jim arrived. The cable ways sang andshrieked. The concrete mixer roared. Donkey engines puffed and dinkeessquealed. Jim dashed into a telephone booth and called up the office. 

"This is Mr. Manning. Where is Williams?"

The telephone girl answered quickly: "Oh, how are you, Mr. Manning?We're glad you are back. Why, Mr. Williams was called down to Cabillo tomake a deposition for the Washington hearing, several days ago. And theymade Mr. Barton and Mr. Arles go, too. I'm trying to get them on longdistance now. You came by the way of Albuquerque, didn't you? We triedto reach you in Washington, but couldn't. "

Jim groaned. His three best men were gone. 

"We didn't expect high water for a week, " the girl went on, "orelse----"

"Miss Agnes, " Jim interrupted, "call up every engineer on the job andtell them to report at once to me at Booth A. Whom did Iron Skull leaveon his job?"

"Benson, the head draughtsman. "

Jim hung up the receiver and stood a moment in thought. Iron Skull wasnow Jim's superintendent and right hand. His mechanical and electricalengineers were gone, too, leaving only cubs who had never seen a flood. Benson came running down the trail from the office. 

"For the Lord's sake, Benson, have you been asleep?" said Jim. 

Benson looked at the roaring flume. "She'll carry it all right, don'tyou think? I haven't been able to get in touch with the hydrographer fortwenty-four hours. The water only began to rise an hour ago. "

"The poor kid may be drowned!" exclaimed Jim. He turned to the group ofmen forming about him. "We're in for a fight, fellows. This flood hasjust begun and it's higher now than I've ever seen the water in theflume. I'm going to fill the excavation with water from the flume and soavoid the wash from the main flow. Save what you can from the river bed. Leave the excavation to me. "

Five minutes later the river bed swarmed with workmen. The cable waysgroaned with load after load of machinery. Jim ran down the trail, around the excavation and up onto the great block of concrete. The topof this was just below the flume edge. The foreman of the concrete gangwas aghast at Jim's orders. 

"We may have a couple of hours, " Jim finished, "or she may come down onus as if the bottom had dropped out of the ocean. See that everyone getsout of the excavation. "

The foreman looked a little pitifully at the concrete section. 

"That last pouring'll go out like a snow bank, Mr. Manning. "

Jim nodded. "Dam builders luck, Fritz. Get busy. " He hurried into atelephone booth, even in the stress of the moment smiling ruefully as heremembered the complaint at the hearing. The booths _had_ been too wellbuilt. Jim's predecessor had been a government man of the old school injust one particular. Honest to his heart's core, he still could notunderstand the need of economy when working for Uncle Sam. 

"Have you heard from Iron Skull?" Jim asked the operator. 

"He ought to be here now, Mr. Manning, " she replied. "I sent the carover to the kitchen. "

"You are all right, Miss Agnes, " said Jim. "Tell Dr. Emmet to be nearthe telephone. I don't like the looks of this. "

Jim hung up the receiver, pulled off his coat and hurried out to theedge of the concrete section. A derrick was being spun along thecableway, just above the excavation. A man was standing on the greathook from which the derrick was suspended. Men were clambering throughthe heavy sand up out of the excavation. The man on the edge of the pitwho was holding the guide rope attached to the swinging derrick wascaught in the rush of workmen. He tripped and dropped the rope, then ranafter it with a shout of warning. For a moment the derrick spunawkwardly. 

The man in the tower rang a hasty signal and the operator of thecableway reversed with a sudden jerk that threw the derrick from thehook. The man on the hook clung like a fly on a thread. The derrickcrashed heavily down on the excavation edge, and slid to the bottom, carrying with it a great sand slide that caught two men as it went. 

Jim gasped, "My God! I hate a derrick!" and ran down into theexcavation, the foreman at his heels. Men turned in their tracks andwallowed back after Jim. 

The derrick had fallen in such a way that its broken boom held back aportion of the slide. From under the boom protruded a brown hand withalmond-shaped nails; unmistakably the hand of an Indian. The leastmovement of the boom would send the sand down over the wreckage of thederrick. 

Uncontrollably moved for a moment, Jim dropped to his knees and crawledclose to touch the inert hand. "Don't move!" he shouted. "We will getyou out!" For just a moment, an elm shaded street and a dismantledmansion flashed across his vision. Then he got a grip on himself andcrawled out. 

"Get a bunch of men with shovels!" he cried. "Dig as if you were diggingin dynamite. "

"They are dead under there, Boss!" pleaded the foreman. "And they ain'tnothing but an Injun and a Mexican, an ornery _hombre_! And if you don'tlet the flume in this whole place'll wash out like flour. It'll take anhour to get them out. "

Jim's lips tightened. "You weren't up on the Makon, Fritz. My rule is, fight to save a life at any cost. Keep those fellows digging like thedevil. "

He hurried back up onto the section, thence up to the flume edge. Thenhe gave an exclamation. The brown water had risen an inch while he wasin the excavation. He ran for the telephone again. 

In a moment a new form of activity began in the river bed. Every man whowas not digging gingerly at the sand slide was turned to throwing bagsof sand on cofferdam and flume edge to hold back the river as long asmight be. Jim stood on the concrete section and issued his orders. Hisvoice was steel cool. His orders came rapidly but without confusion. Heconcentrated every force of his mind on driving his army of workmen tothe limit of their strength, yet on keeping them cool headed that everymoment might count. 

It was an uneven fight at that. Old Jezebel gathered strength minute byminute. The brown water was dripping over onto the concrete whensomeone caught Jim's arm. 

"Where shall I go, Boss Still?"

"Thank God, Iron Skull!" exclaimed Jim. "Go down and get that _hombre_and Apache out. "

Iron Skull ran down into the excavation. The brown water began to seepover the edge of the pit. The men who were digging above the slide sworeand threw down their shovels. Jim tossed his megaphone to the cementengineer and ran to meet the men. 

"Get back there, " he said quietly. The men looked at his face, thenturned sheepishly back. 

Jim picked up a shovel. Iron Skull already was digging like a madman. 

One of the workmen, who never had ceased digging, snarled to another:"What does he want to let the whole dam go to hell for two niggerrough-necks for?"

"Bosses' rule, " panted the other. "Up on the Makon we'd risk our livesto the limit and fight for the other fellows just as quick. How'd youlike to be under there? Never know who's turn's next!"

The brown water rose steadily, running faster and faster over into theexcavation. The water was touching the brown hand which now twitched andwrithed, when Jim said:

"Now, boys, catch the cable hook to the boom and give the signal. "

The derrick swung up into the air. Jim and a Makon man seized theIndian, Iron Skull and another man the _hombre_. Both of them were alivebut helpless. The cement engineer shouted an order through the megaphoneand just as a lifting brown wave showed its fearful head beyond theElephant, the river bed was cleared of human beings. 

Up around the cable tower foot was gathered a great crowd of workmen, women and children. Jim, greeted right and left as he relinquished hisburden, looked about eagerly. Penelope must have heard of the flood andhave come to see it. But surrounded by his friends, Jim missed thegirlish figure that had hovered on the outskirts of the crowd and that, after he had reached the tower foot in safety, disappeared up the trail. 

Jim, with his arm across Iron Skull's shoulder, turned to watch theriver. The moving brown wall had filled the excavation. It rushed like aNiagara over the flume edge. In half an hour it ran from bank to bank, with a roar of satisfaction at having once more regained its bed. 

Jim sighed and said to Iron Skull: "She's taken a hundred thousanddollars at a mouthful. I'll put that in my expense account for my tripto Washington. "

Iron Skull grunted: "We'll be lucky if we get off that cheap. This willmake talk for every farmer on the Project. They'll all be up to tell youhow you should have done it. "

Jim shrugged his shoulders. "This isn't the first flood we've weathered, Iron Skull. Come up to the house while I change my clothes. "

The two started along the road that wound up to the low mountain topwhere the group of adobe cottages known as "officers' quarters" waslocated. The cottages were occupied by Jim's associate engineers andtheir families. 

"I suppose you learned that your friends came, " said Iron Skull. "Theywanted a tent for his health, so I put them in the tent house back onthe level behind the quarters. 

"I didn't know of their coming until I was leaving Washington, " saidJim. "How are they?"

"She stood the trip fine. He was pretty well used up, poor cus! She isawful patient with him. She's all you've said about her and then some. The ladies have all called on her but he don't encourage them. I stood agood deal from him, then I just told him to go to hell. Not when she wasround, of course. "

Jim listened intently. He knew the whole camp must be alive with gossipand curiosity over his two guests. An event of this order was a godsendin news value to the desert camp. 

"Much obliged to you, " was Jim's comment. 

"How'd the Hearing go?" asked Iron Skull. 

Jim shook his head and sighed. "They are convinced down there, I guess, that the Service is rotten. I kept my mouth shut and sawed wood. TheSecretary is good medicine. You should have heard Uncle Denny jump inand make a speech. Bless him. I felt like a fool. What the Secretarythinks about the whole thing nobody knows. "

Iron Skull grunted. After a moment he said: "Folks down at Cabillo arepeeved at the way you are making the main canal. Old Suma-theek is backwith fifty Apaches. That's one of them we pulled out of the sand. I'vefixed a separate mess for them. I think we can reorganize one of theshifts so as to reduce the number of foremen. "

Jim paused before the door of his little gray adobe. "Will you come in, Iron Skull?"

"I'll wait for you in the office, " replied Williams. He turned down themountainside toward a long adobe with a red roof. 

Jim walked in at the open door of his house. The living room was longand low, with an adobe fireplace at one end. The walls were left in thedelicate creamy tint of the natural adobe. On the floor were a blackbearskin from Makon and a brilliant Navajo that Suma-theek had givenhim. The walls were hung with Indian baskets and pottery, withphotographs of the Green Mountain and the Makon, with guns and canteensand a great rack of pipes. This was the first home that Jim had hadsince he had left the brownstone front and he was very proud of it. Hehad inherited his predecessor's housekeeper, who ruled him firmly. 

Jim dropped his suit case and called, "Hello, Mrs. Flynn!"

A door at the end of the room opened and a very stout woman came in, herruddy face a vast smile, her gray hair flying. She was wiping her handson her apron. 

"Oh, Boss Still, but I'm glad to see you! You look pindlin'. Ain't itawful about the dam! I bet you're hungry this minute. God knows, if I'dthought you'd be here for another hour I'd have had something againstyour coming. And if God lets me live to spare my life, it won't happenagain. "

She talked very rapidly and as she talked she was patting Jim's arm, turning him round and round to look him over like a mother. 

Jim flashed his charming smile on her. "Bless you, Mother Flynn! I knowit's a hundred years since you've told me what God knows! I'll have abath and go down to the office. I've had nothing to eat since morning. "This last very sadly. 

It had the expected effect on Mrs. Flynn, whose idea of purgatory was ofa place where one had to miss an occasional meal. 

She groaned: "Leave me into the kitchen! At six o'clock exactly therewill be fried chicken on this table!"

Mrs. Flynn made breathlessly for the kitchen pausing at the door to callback: "And how's your mother and your Uncle Denny? I've been doing thebest I can for your company. They ate stuff I took 'em only the firstday, then she went to housekeeping. "

"Thank you, " said Jim, absently. He went into his bedroom. This, too, was uncolored. It was a simple little room with only a cot, a bureau anda chair in it. The walls were bare except for the little old photographof Pen in her tennis clothes. 

In half an hour Jim had splashed in and out of his bath, was shaved andclad in camp regalia; a flannel shirt, Norfolk coat and riding breechesof tan khaki, leather puttees and a broad-brimmed Stetson. At his officeawaiting him were his engineer associates and Iron Skull, and he put ina long two hours with them, his mind far less on the flood and theHearing than on the fact that Penelope was waiting for him, up in thelittle tent house. 

It was not quite eight o'clock when Jim stood before the tent house, waiting for courage to rap. 

Suddenly he heard Sara's voice. "I won't have women coming up here tosnoop! Understand that, Pen, right now. Hand me the paper and be quickabout it. "

Jim felt himself stiffened as he listened for Pen's voice in answer. 

CHAPTER XII

THE TENT HOUSE

 "Leave Old Jezebel to herself and she soon returns to old ways. She likes them best for she is a woman. "

 MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. 

Pen's voice, when it came, was lower and fuller than he had rememberedit but there was the old soft chuckle in it. 

"Cross patch! Draw the latch! Say please, like a nice child and thenI'll play a game of cards with you. "

Jim rapped on the door and stepped in. "Hello, Pen!" he said, holdingout his hand. 

She was changed and yet unchanged. A little thinner, older, yet morebeautiful in her young womanhood than in her charming girlhood. Herchestnut hair was wrapped in soft braids around her head instead ofbeing bundled up in her neck. Her eyes looked larger and deeper set butthey were the same steady, clear eyes of old; ageless eyes; the eyes ofthe woman who thinks. She had the same full soft lips, and as Jim heldout his hand the same flash of dimples. 

"Hello, Still! The mountains have come to Mahomet!"

"And a poor welcome I gave you, " replied Jim. "Hello, Sara. "

Jim turned to the great invalid chair. There, propped up in cushions, lay a fat travesty of the old Saradokis. This was a Sara whose tawnyhair was turning gray with suffering; whose mouth, once so full andboyish, was now heavy and sinister, whose buoyancy had changed to thebitter irritability of the hopeless invalid. 

Sara looked Jim over deliberately, then dropped his hand. "How do youthink I am? Enjoying the dirty deal I've had from life?"

Jim had not realized before just what a dirty deal Sara had been given. "I'm sorry about it, Sara, " he said. 

Saradokis gave an ugly laugh. "Sounds well! I've never heard a word fromyou since the day we ran the Marathon. You hold a grudge as well as aGreek, Jim. "

"Gee, I'd forgotten all about the race!" exclaimed Jim. 

"I haven't, " returned Sara. "Neither the race nor several other things. "

Jim shrugged his shoulders and turned to Pen, who was watching the twomen anxiously. 

"Tell me about your plans. I'm mighty happy to have you here. "

"Sara's had the feeling for a long time that this climate would helphim, and we've talked in a general way about coming. It was Mr. Freetthat told Sara he thought there were some good real estate chances hereand that decided Sara. Sara has done him a number of good turns ininvestments round New York. "

Jim looked at Sara sharply but made no comment on Pen's remarks. "Areyou comfortable here?" he asked, looking about the tent house. 

It was a roomy place. There was a good floor and a wooden wainscotingthat rose three feet above it. The tent was set on this wainscoting, which gave plenty of head space. A gasolene stove in one corner with atable and chairs and a cupboard formed the kitchen. A cot for Pen and abook shelf or two with a corner clothes closet and some hammock swungchairs completed the furniture. Pen had achieved the homelike with somechintz hangings and a rug. 

"I am getting our meals right here, " said Pen. "The steward said wecould have them sent up from the mess, but it's less expensive and morefun to get them camp fashion here. The government store is a very goodone and all the neighbors have called and have brought me everythingfrom fresh baked bread to cans of jelly. They are so wonderfully kind tome!"

Sara was staring at Jim with an insolent sort of interest. He had fulluse of his arms, as was evident when he gave the great wheel chair aquick flip about so as to shade his eyes from the lamp. As Jim watchedhim all the resentment of the past eight years welled up within him withan added repugnance for Sara's fat helplessness and ugly temper thatmade it difficult for him to sit by the invalid's chair. 

When Pen had finished her account Sara said, "You made rather a mess, didn't you, in handling the flood today?"

"You were splendid, Jimmy!" cried Pen. "I saw the whole thing!"

Jim shook his head. "It was expensive splendor!"

"You will find it difficult to explain your lack of preparation to aninvestigating committee, won't you?" asked Sara. 

"If you can give a recipe for flood preparation, " said Jim goodnaturedly, "you will have every dam builder in the world at your feet. "

Sara grunted and changed the subject and his manner abruptly. 

"Got any decent smoking tobacco, Still?"

"That is hard to find here, " replied Jim. "It dries out fast and losesflavor. I've got some over at the house I brought back from the East. I'll go over and get it now. Will you let Pen walk over with me? I'dlike to have her see my house. "

"Makes no difference to me what she does. Hand me that book, Pen, beforeyou start. "

Out under the stars Jim pulled Pen's hand within his arm and asked, "Pen, is he always like that?"

"Always, " answered Pen. "Do you remember the 'Wood-carver of Olympus'?How he was hurt like Sara and how he blasphemed God and was embitteredfor years? He was reconciled to his lot after a time and people lovedhim. I have so hoped for that change in poor Sara, but none has come. "

"Pen!" cried Jim suddenly. "I gave you my sign and seal! Why did youmarry Saradokis?"

Pen answered slowly, "Jim, why wouldn't you understand and take me Westwith you when I begged you to?"

"Understand what?" asked Jim, tensely. 

"That Sara's hold on me was almost hypnotic, that it was you I reallycared for, as I realized as soon as Sara was hurt. If only you had hadthe courage of your convictions, Still!"

Jim winced but found no reply and Pen went on, her voice meditative andsoft as if she were talking not of herself but of some half-forgottenacquaintance. 

"I used to feel resentful that Sara thought I was worth such constantattention, while you, in spite of the Sign and Seal, were quite ascontented with Uncle Denny as with me. And yet, after it all was overand I had settled down to nursing Sara for the rest of my life, I couldsee that I had had nothing to give you then and Uncle Denny had. Life isso mercilessly logical--to look back on, Jimmy. "

Jim put his hand over the cold little fingers on his arm. Pen went on. "I did not try to write to you. I----"

But Jim could bear no more. "Pen! Pen! What a miserable fool I am!"

"You are nothing of the kind!" exclaimed Pen, indignantly "What do youthink of the mess I've made of my life, if you think you are foolish?"

"What am I to do? How can I make it up to you?" cried Jim. 

"By letting me stay in your desert for a time, " answered Pen. "I knowI'm going to love it. "

They were at Jim's doorstep and he made no reply. As usual, words seemedfutile to him. He showed Pen his house and found the tobacco, lettingMrs. Flynn do all the talking. Then, still in silence, he led Pen backto her tent. At the door he gave her the tobacco and left her. 

Jim had a bad night. He stayed in bed until midnight; then to get awayfrom his own thoughts he dressed and went out to the dam. The water hadreached its height. There was nothing to be done save wait until OldJezebel grew weary of mischief. But Jim tramped up and down the greatroad between the dam and the lower town all night. 

His mind swung from Pen to the Hearing and from the Hearing to theflood, then back to Pen again. From Pen his thoughts went to his fatherand with his father he paused for a long time. 

Was the evil destiny that had made his father fail to follow him, too?Jim had always believed himself stronger than his father, somehow betterfitted to cope with destiny. Yet ever since his trouble with Freet onthe Makon there had been growing in Jim a vague distrust of his ownpowers. He could build the dams, yes, if "they" would leave him free todo so. If "they" would not fret and hound him until his efficiency wasgone. It was the very subtlety and intangibility of "they" that made himuneasy, made him less sure of himself and his own ability. 

He had planned, after he had finished his work, to turn his attention tosolving the problems of old Exham. How was he to do this if he was notbig enough to cope with his own circumstance? And was he going to missthe continuation of the Manning line because he had failed to graspopportunity in love as in everything else?

Dawn found Jim watching the Elephant grow bronze against the sky. TheElephant had a very real personality to Jim as it had to everyone elsein the valley. 

"What is to be, is to be, eh, old friend?" said Jim. "But why? Tell mewhy?"

The sun rolled up and the Elephant changed from bronze to gold. Jimsighed and went up to his house. 

All that day crowds of workmen on the banks watched Old Jezebel rompover their working place and they swore large and vivid oaths regardingwhat they would do to her once they got to balking her again. It wasabout noon that a buckboard drawn by two good horses stopped at the footof the cable tower. The driver called to Iron Skull Williams, who waschewing a toothpick and chatting to Pen. Williams led Pen up to thebuckboard. 

"Like to introduce Oscar Ames, one of our old-time irrigation farmers, "said Iron Skull. "And this is Mrs. Ames, his boss. And this lady is afriend of the Big Boss--Mrs. Saradokis. "

Pen held out her hand and the two women looked at each other in thequick appraising way of women. Mrs. Ames was perhaps fifty years old. She was small and thin and brown, with thin gray hair under her dustyhat and a thin throat showing under her linen duster. Her face washeavily lined. Her eyes were wonderful; a clear blue with the far-seeinggaze of eyes that have looked long on the endless distances of thedesert. Yet, perhaps, the look was not due altogether to the desert, foryoung as she was, Pen's eyes had the same expression. 

"I am glad to know you, " said Penelope. 

"Thank you, " said Mrs. Ames, bashfully. 

Oscar Ames shook hands heartily. He was a big man of fifty, with hairand skin one shade of ruddy tan. 

"Glad to meet you, ma'am. Say, Iron Skull, how'd you come to let thewater beat you to it? This adds another big cost to us farmers' bill. "

Williams grunted. "Wish you folk had been up on the Makon. That's wherewe had real floods. Ames, we are doing our limit. Ain't you old enoughyet to know that a lift under the arm carries a fellow twice as far as akick in the pants? Here's the Boss now. Light on _him_! Poor old scout!"

Jim was on horseback. He rode slowly up and dismounted. "How are you, Ames? And Mrs. Ames? Have you met Mrs. Saradokis? Ames, before you beginto chant my funeral march let me ask you if you don't want to sell thatsouth forty you say I'm not irrigating right. Mr. Saradokis representssome Eastern interests. Perhaps you'd like to meet him. "

Oscar grinned a little sheepishly. "Business before pleasure! I'll goright up to see him now. "

"Then you must come up with me, " said Penelope to Mrs. Ames, and the twowomen followed after Jim and Oscar. 

The climb was short but stiff. Pen had not yet become accustomed to thefive thousand feet of elevation at which the officers' camp was set, soshe had no breath for conversation until they reached the tent house. Sara lay in his invalid chair before the open door, maps, tobacco andmagazines scattered over the swing table that covered his lap. Pen, asif to ward off any rudeness, began to explain as she mounted the steps:

"Here is a gentleman who has land for sale, Sara. " Sara's scowldisappeared. He gave the Ames family such a pleasant welcome that Jimwas puzzled. Ames and Jim dropped down on the doorstep while Mrs. Amesand Pen took the hammock chairs. 

"Have you people been long in this country?" asked Pen. 

"Thirty years this coming fall, " replied Ames, taking the cigar Saraoffered him and smelling it critically. "I was a kid of 21 when I tookup my section down on the old canal. I couldn't have sold that land fortwo bits an acre a year after I took it up. I refused two hundreddollars an acre for the alfalfa land the other day. "

"You must have done some work in the interval, " commented Sara. 

Jim, leaning against the door post, watched Sara through half closedeyes and glanced now and again at Pen's eager face. Ames puffed at hiscigar and gazed out over the desert. 

"Work!" he said with a half laugh, "why when I took up that land sandand silence, whisky and poker were the staples round here. I built aone-room adobe, bought a team, imported a plow and a harrow and ascraper and went at it. I've got a ten-acre orange grove now and twohundred acres of alfalfa and a foreman who lets me gad! But no one whoain't been a desert farmer can imagine how I worked. "

Pen spoke softly. "Were you with him then, Mrs. Ames?"

The little woman looked at Pen with her far-seeing eyes. "Oh, yes, Idon't know that Oscar remembers, but we were married in York State. Iwas a school teacher. "

After the little laugh Pen asked, "Do you like the desert farming?"

"I never did get through being homesick, " answered Mrs. Ames. "My firsttwo babies died there in that first little adobe. I was all alone withthem and the heat and the work. "

"Jane, you let me talk, " interrupted Oscar briskly. "We both worked. Theworst of everything was the uncertainty about water. Us farmers builtthe dam that laid sixty miles below here. Just where governmentdiversion dam is now. But we never knew when the spring floods camewhether we'd have water that year or not. More and more people took upland and tapped the river and the main canal. Gosh! It got fierce. Oldfriends would accuse each other of stealing each other's water. Then wehad a series of dry years. No rain or snow in the mountains. And greenthings died and shriveled, aborning: The desert was dotted with deadcattle. Three years we watched our crops die and----"

Mrs. Ames suddenly interrupted. There was a dull red in her browncheeks. "I wanted to go home the third year of the drought. All I had toshow for fifteen years in the desert was two dead babies. I wanted to gohome. "

"And I says to her, " said Ames, "I said 'For God's sake, Jane, where ishome if it isn't here? I can't expect you to feel like I do about thisranch for you've stuck to the house. I know every inch of this ranch. Ain't I fought for every acre of it, cactus and sand storm and waterfamine? Ain't I sweat blood over every acre? Ain't I given the bestyears of my life to it? And you say, 'Let's give it up! It ain't home!'I certainly was surprised at Jane. "

"I have worked too, " said Jane Ames, gently, to Penelope. "I'd had nohelp and had cooked for half a dozen men and--and--then the babies!Having four babies is not play, you know!"

"Oh, I know!" exclaimed Amos impatiently. "You worked. That was why Iwas so surprised at you wanting to let everything go. But you hadn'tmade things grow like I had. I suppose that's why you felt different. That winter the snows was heavy in the mountains and we were tickled atthe thought of high water in the spring. We all got out in May tostrengthen the dam, hauling brush and stone. But the water rose like thevery devil. We divided into night and day shifts, then we worked all thetime. But it was no use. The whole darned thing went out like Niagara. Forty-three hours at a stretch I worked and the dam went out! And thenext year the same. Then it was that we began to ask for the ReclamationService. "

Pen drew a long breath and looked from Ames' strong tanned face out atthe breathless wonder of the landscape. Far beyond the brooding bronzeElephant lay the chaos of the desert, yellow melting into purple andpurple into the faint peaks of the mountains. 

"What I can't understand, Ames, " said Jim slowly, "after all this, iswhy you roast the Service so. "

Ames flushed. "Because, " he shouted, "you are so damned pig-headed! Youaren't building the dam for us farmers. You are building it for theglory of your own reputation as an engineer. "

There was a moment's silence in the tent house. 

CHAPTER XIII

THE END OF IRON SKULL'S ROAD

 "The Indians know that the spirit blends with the Greater Spirit, and I myself have seen every atom that was mortal lift again and again to new life, out of the desert's atom drift. "

 MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. 

Jim shrugged his shoulders. Sara's eyes narrowed as he half smiled tohimself. 

"For instance, " Ames went on, "what are you making the third canal sobig for? We don't need it that size. You're wasting time and our money. We've got to pay for the project, us farmers. You don't take anyinterest in that fact though. "

"You don't need a canal that big, but your children will, " said Jim. "I'm building this dam for the future. You farmers never built foranything but the present. That's why your dams went and the water warswere on. But you can't teach a farmer anything. "

Jim spoke with a cold contempt that startled Penelope. Ames' kindly eyeswere blazing. 

"No, but maybe us farmers can teach an engineer something. And I don'tknow a better talking point for starting an investigation than the wayyou let the flood rip everything to pieces. "

"Which portion of your land is for sale, Mr. Ames?" asked Pen. "Myhusband has a map of the valley over there. "

Jim rose and took up his pony's reins. "I'm sorry anything unpleasantcame up, Pen. But you'll find out I'm a fool and a crook some time, soit might as well be now. I must get back. " He smiled, lifted his hat androde off. The four in the tent stared after him. 

"He always seems so kind of alone, " said Mrs. Ames. "They say his menwill do anything for him and yet he always seems kind of lonely. I don'tseem to hate him the way the rest of the valley does. He's so young, hedon't know how to be patient yet. "

"Oh, they don't hate him, do they!" protested Pen. 

"You bet!" answered Ames succinctly. Then he added: "You'll have toexcuse me saying that. I forgot you was his friend. But this here valleyis like my child to me. I'm fighting for her. "

"We want to know the truth about him, " said Sara. "Are you really tryingto get rid of him?"

Ames nodded and picked up the map. "I don't think he's crooked, likesome do. I just think he's too young and pig-headed for the job. "

"How do you know he's not crooked?" asked Sara. 

Pen drew a startled breath. Ames looked at Sara curiously. "I thoughtyou was his friend. "

"He's my wife's friend, " replied Sara. "You know what the Congressionalcommittee reported about him. "

"Sara!" cried Pen. "You know Jim couldn't do a crooked thing to save hislife!"

Sara's black eyes blazed dangerously. Mrs. Ames stirred uncomfortablyand Pen rose. "Let's leave the men to their land sales and go out wherewe can get a view of the camp, Mrs. Ames, " she said. 

The two women walked slowly out to the mountain edge and settledthemselves on a rock. 

"I'm sorry anything unpleasant occurred, " said Pen. 

"Don't you let it worry you, " replied Mrs. Ames. "I'm used to it. Eversince the dam was started, Oscar has been like an old maid with anadopted baby. "

"I'm so sorry Jim has made himself unpopular here, " said Pen. "He and Iwere brought up by my uncle who married Jim's mother. And Jim is fine. The Lord made Jim and then broke the mold. There's no one like him; noone cleaner and truer----"

Mrs. Ames looked at Pen thoughtfully. Then she patted the girl's hand. 

"Don't you worry about him. He's got lots to learn but the Lord don'twaste stuff like him. I would be perfectly happy if my boy turned outlike him. "

Pen smiled a little uncertainly. "We who know him so well are foolishabout Jim. Tell me about your children. "

"I have two left, " replied Mrs. Ames. "They're at school in Cabillo. Iwas bound they should have their chance. I'd like to ask you something. Have you got a pattern for the waist you've got on? I'd like to make onefor my Mary. Though I don't know! My hands are so rough I can't handleembroidery silks very good. "

She held up two work distorted hands. "I made this blouse myself, " saidPen. "I'd love to make one for your Mary. Time will hang on my handsout here, some days. "

"That's nice of you, " said the little desert woman, taking the gift assimply as it was offered. "You tell me what materials to get. I guess Ican find some way to pay you up. "

"Come to see me, or let me come to see you, " exclaimed Pen. "That willbe pay enough. I have few friends, for my husband doesn't like them. ButI can see that he has taken a liking to you two. "

"The minute I saw you, I knew something pleasant had happened to me, "said Jane Ames. "You don't mind having an old woman for an admirer, doyou?"

Pen's dimples showed. "The more I see of men, Mrs. Ames, the better Ilike women. "

Jane Ames nodded understandingly. "The women I know all have got it hardone way or another but I guess desert farming ain't the worst thing thatcan happen to a woman. Here comes Oscar. I suppose he's mad because Iain't down at the buckboard counting the minutes till he gets to me. Good-by, my dear! I'll see you soon. "

Pen did not return to the tent house at once. She saw Iron Skull up onthe mountainside watching a group of Indians break out the first line ofa road and she strolled over to talk to him. Jim's letters home had beenfull of Iron Skull and Pen felt as if she knew him well. 

"How do, Mrs. Saradokis?" said Williams. 

"Are they all Indians?" asked Pen staring round-eyed at the group ofworkmen. 

Iron Skull nodded. "Jicarilla and Mohave Apaches. I've fought with theolder men. They make good workmen if you understand them. OldSuma-theek over there is one of my best friends. "

There might have been fifty of the Indians, stalwart fellows, using pickand shovel with a deliberate grace that fascinated Pen. She watched insilence for a moment, then she said:

"Mr. Williams. I'm worried about Jim. Is it really true that they aretrying to oust him?"

Iron Skull looked at Pen's anxious hazel eyes, then out at the ranges. Then he scratched his head. 

"I'm a little worried myself, Mrs. Saradokis. He's up against a badproposition and he just won't admit it. I don't like to nag him. Yousee, him and me are just naturally partners though I am old enough to behis father. And there's some ways a man can't nag another man. "

"Do you think I could help him?" asked Pen. "He and I've always beengood friends. "

Williams hesitated, then he spoke with a sudden deep earnestness thatsurprised Pen: "If you don't help him, things will be bad for BossStill. And you're the only person I know of that could influence him. "

He paused as he saw Pen flush painfully, then he went on a littleawkwardly: "Maybe you'll understand me better if--if I tell you I waswith Boss Still when a--Mr. Dennis wrote about your marriage. I knowabout how he felt and all and I sort of look on your coming at thisparticular time as a kind of a godsend. 

"Now I'm going to tell you some things confidential and leave it to yourjudgment how to act. Boss Still, he sort of worshiped Freet. You knowwho he is?"

Pen nodded. Williams went on. "Freet, as I size it up, wanted to break asmart cub in to be a kind of cat's paw for him in selling water power tothe right folks and running the canals right. It's darn seldom you meeta good engineer that's money hungry. But Freet is. He's a miser in away. But up on the Makon, he found out the Boss is as innocent as a babyof graft and more'n that he had his head in the clouds so's there wasmighty little hope of his coming down to earth. So Freet got him sentdown here. 

"Well, the time's coming down here when there'll be a nice lot of waterpower. It belongs to the farmers after they pay for the dam, but theidea is for the engineer in charge to show 'em where to sell it to bestadvantage. If the engineer here ain't the right kind, the Water Powertrust can make him trouble. All sorts of ways, you see. Getting thefarmers sore at him is one. See?"

Pen nodded again, her eyes wide and startled. "Now, " said Iron Skull, "don't be offended, but I'm wondering about your husband. I know Freetknows him and if it should just happen that your husband had any oldscores to settle with the Boss----"

He paused and Pen exclaimed: "I believe we'd better go right back to NewYork, though as far as I know we're out here just for Sara's health andfor him to buy up some land Mr. Freet knew about. "

"Now don't get excited, " said Williams. "Remember this here is allspeculation on my part. You stay right here. If it wasn't your husband, it would be someone else and I'd rather it would be someone that has youto watch 'em! And that ain't the most important part of your job, either. Mrs. Saradokis, somehow the Boss ain't getting the grip onthings he'd ought to. I don't mean in engineering. He just can't be beatat that. I don't know just what it is, but he's a big enough man to havethis valley in the hollow of his hand. And he ain't. I want you to helpme find out why and then _make_ him get away with it. This little oldUnited States needs men of his blood and kind of mind. I've fell down onmy job. Don't you let him fall down on his. It's the one way you can payup for--for the other thing you took out of his life. "

Pen stood with tear-blinded eyes and trembling lips. Iron Skull clearedhis throat: "I hope you don't mind my butting in this-a-way!"

Pen shook her head. "I'll do my best, " she said. "Only I'm pretty smallfor the job. "

"Here he comes now, " said Williams. 

Jim rode up and dismounted. "Hello, Pen! What do you think of my roads?I'm crowding as many men onto the roads as I can until the water goesdown. Idleness is bad for them. You see, in spite of electric lights anda water system we're a long way from civilization and it gets on themen's nerves unless we keep 'em busy. I'm going to start a movingpicture show in the lower camp. The official photographer will run itfor us. Just the usual five-cent movies, you know. Anything aboverunning expenses will go toward the farmers' debt. "

Iron Skull moved away to speak to Suma-theek. Jim went on slowly: "Youcan see what I'm up against in Ames. Any day I may get a recall. Everyfarmer on the project hates me for some reason or other. I tell you, Pen, if they don't let me finish my dam and the roads to and from it, itwill ruin my life. "

Pen's tender eyes studied Jim's face. Long and thin, with its dreamer'sforehead and its steel jaw, it was the same dear face that Penelope hadcarried in her heart since that spring day long ago when a long-leggedfreshman had said to her, "I'm glad you came. I'm going to think a lotof you. I can see that. "

"You know, Jim, " she said, "that your mother and Uncle Denny alwaysshared your letters with me?"

Jim nodded. "I wrote them for that. "

"And so I really know a good deal about your work. Uncle Denny and Istudied the maps and the government reports and then he actually saw thedams, you know, and would tell me all the details. Honestly, we'dqualify as experts in any court! And if you'll just let me share yourworries while I'm out here, I shall be prouder even than Uncle Dennyafter you've asked his advice. And won't I crow over him after I getback to New York!"

A glow came to Jim's eyes that had not been there for years. "Gee, Pen!You tempt me! But I'm not going to load you up with my troubles. Youhave enough with Sara. Perhaps Sara will shoot Ames for me! Sara lookslike a sure-enough gunman, now. How he has changed, Pen!"

"If only you could have forgiven him enough to have written him once ina while, Jim. After all he's been more than punished, even for theMarathon matter or for that crazy romance about the ducal inheritance. Irealized, Jim, after I had married him, that Sara was quite capable ofthe Marathon incident. Yet I wish you had forgiven him!"

"The Marathon, Pen!" cried Jim. "For heaven's sake, don't suppose thatwas why I didn't write to Sara! It's the dirty trick he did in marryingyou that I'll never get over!"

"Oh, but that's not fair!" returned Pen. "He--well, anyway, he's acripple now and needs your help. "

"I--help Sara!" exclaimed Jim. "Why I simply don't know he's living!It's my turn now. Sara has had his innings. Desert methods are perfectlysimple and direct and I'm a desert man. You are here with me, Penelope, and you are going to stay with me. "

Iron Skull was coming back. Pen laughed. "You and Sara ought to writemovie dramas, Jim. " Then she sobered. "Don't misunderstand my coming tothe dam, Jimmy. I've learned a good many things since you left me in NewYork. One thing is that we can't cut our lives loose from other livesand be a law to ourselves. Another is that any responsibility we take upvoluntarily ought to be carried to the end. "

Jim looked at Pen curiously and his jaw set. She was several yearsyounger than Jim, yet something had come to her in the years just pastthat made him in some ways feel immature. But Jim had not hungered andthirsted for eight years in starry solitudes with one memory and onedream to keep his heart alive, to relinquish the dream without a fight. 

"Penelope, " he said, "you don't know me. "

Pen smiled. "I know you to the last hair in that brown thatch of yours, Still Jim. " Then she turned to Iron Skull, who was eager to have hertalk to old Suma-theek. 

For some days Jim had no opportunity to continue Pen's education withhimself as textbook. He was engrossed in watching and tending the flood. Old Jezebel enjoyed herself thoroughly for a week. She fought andscratched at the mountainsides, but save the chafing of purple lava dustfrom their sides she made no impression on their imperturbability. Sheripped down the last pouring, contemptuously leaving tons of rock andconcrete at the foot of the concrete section. She roared and howled andshook the good earth with the noise of a railway train tearing through atunnel. And Jim laughed. 

"If it wasn't for you, old girl, " he told her one afternoon, "I'd gocrazy with the flea bitings of the Enemy. But you, bless your wickedsoul, are an honest part of the game. I was bred from the beginning tofight floods. You attack in the open, like an honest vixen. Wait till Iget my clutches on you again. "

As Jim finished this soliloquy with considerable satisfaction tohimself, Iron Skull came up and laid a newspaper on his saddle horn. 

"The newspapers are roasting you, Boss Still. "

"What do they say this time, Iron Skull?" Jim did not offer to lift thepaper. 

"You are inefficient. A friend of Freet's. They don't say you causedhigh water but they insinuate you suggested it to the weather man. You'dought to tell the Secretary of the Interior the whole truth about theMakon, Boss Still. "

"I can't do that, Iron Skull. I'm no squealer. "

"I know. And I've always advised you to keep your mouth shut. But writeto the editor of this paper, Boss. "

Jim did not reply at once. The two were on the mountainside, not a greatdistance from Pen's house past which the new road was to run. TheIndians were making ready for the sunset blasts. Above the distant roarof old Jezebel, old Suma-theek's foreman's whistle sounded clear andsweet as he signaled his men. 

This was Geronimo's country, the land of the greatest of the Apachefighters. All about were the trails he and his people had made. Yonderto the north, across a harsh peak, was Geronimo's own pass. And now thelast of Geronimo's race was building new trails for a new people. 

The naked beauty of the brown and lavender ranges, the wholesome tang ofthe thin air, the far sweep of the afternoon sky, seemed suddenly remoteto Jim. 

"It's bigger than any editor, " he said. "I don't know what is thematter. My only hope is that I can finish my dam before they get me. "

"You've got to fight back, now, " persisted Iron Skull. 

"It's not my business to fight for permission to build this project!"cried Jim. "I was hired to build it! I was hired to fight old Jezebeland not the farmers!"

The little superintendent laid a knotted hand on Jim's knee. "You musttake my advice in this, partner. I'm an old man and I'm likely to go anytime. I'd like to feel that I'd helped you into a big success. It's theonly record I'll leave behind me except a few dead Injuns. We both comeof good old New England stock and we've got to show the old fightingblood ain't dead yet. I want to tell you--Hi! Suma-theek! Jump! Jump!"

Suma-theek was standing close to the mountain side out of which a blasthad cut a great slice of rock. Up above his head some loosened stone wasslipping down the mountain. As he called and before either Jim or theIndian saw the impending danger, Iron Skull dashed across the road andshoved Suma-theek out of the danger line. But he miscalculated his ownagility. The rapidly-sliding rock caught him on the head and he who hadshed Indian bullets like raindrops went down like a pinon, smitten bylightning. 

For one breath there was an appalling silence on the mountainside. TheApaches stood like a group of bronzes. The eagle who lived on theElephant's side hung motionless high above the road. A cotton-tail satwith quivering nose and inquiring ears above the rift of the slide. 

Then, with a shout, Jim flung himself from his horse and thrust thereins into an Indian's hands. 

"Ride for the doctor!" and the Indian was off like a racing shadow. 

At Jim's call, old Suma-theek gave a great groan and ran to lift IronSkull's head. The Indians gathered about in wonder as Jim knelt besidehis friend. For Iron Skull was dead. 

Penelope ran out of the tent house at Jim's shout and made her way amongthe Indians to Jim's side. 

"O Jim!" she cried. "O Jim! O Jim!" Then she dropped down and lifted thequiet face into her lap and wiped the blood from it and fell to sobbingover it. "Oh, what a useless death!" she sobbed. "What a useless death!"

Jim held his dead friend's hand close in his own. Through histear-blinded eyes he saw a golden August field and felt other fingersclinging to his own. 

The doctor, driving the mule ambulance, dashed up the half-made road. Helooked Iron Skull over, and shook his head. "Get the stretcher out, " hesaid to Jim. 

Four Indians lifted the stretcher with Iron Skull on it, but when theywould have put it in the ambulance, old Suma-theek stepped forward. Hewas taller even than Jim. His face was lean and wrinkled. His eyes weredeep-set and tragic. He wore a twist of red cloth filet-wise around hishead. 

"He die for Injun. Let Injun carry 'em home, " said the old Apache. "Heheap good fighter. He speak truth. He keep word. He a big chief. He diefor Apache. Let Apache carry 'em home. "

The doctor looked inquiringly at Jim who nodded. 

"I'll go on down to his house and get things ready for him, " said thedoctor and he drove off. 

Jim and Penelope stood back. The four Indians bearing the stretcherfollowed after Suma-theek and in a long single line the remainingApaches followed, joining Suma-theek in the death chant which is thevery soul cry of the desolate:

 "Ai! Ai! Ai! Beloved! "Ai! Ai! Ai! Beloved!"

Down the winding road in a world all liquid gold from the setting sun, past the great shadow of the brooding elephant, past the cable towersand the engine house where the workmen stared, motionless and aghast, into the twilight of the valley where the electric lights flared, thechanting Indians carried the old shedder of bullets and laid him on hisbed. 

The camp was very silent that night. The Mexicans had feared andrespected the little Superintendent. They had shared with the Indiansthe belief that the Little Boss could not be killed. The remains of theold Makon Pack were openly grief-stricken and told half-whisperedstories of Iron Skull's prowess in the old days of tunnel building. Thecamp was smitten with awe at this sudden withdrawal. Sudden death wasthe rule on the Projects, yet it always left the camp breathless withsurprise. The little community of twelve hundred souls, so isolated, soclose to the primeval despite its electric lights, suddenly felt utterlyalone and helpless. 

Close after eight o'clock Jim dashed out of his house as if a voice hadcalled him. He dropped down the steep trail to the canyon, crossed thecanyon and took the steep trail up the Elephant's side. It was a sharplift but Jim's long legs took it easily. When he reached the Elephant'stop he crossed the broad back to a heap of bowlders and threw himselfdown in their shelter. 

It was a moonlit night. Silver lay the desert with the black scratch ofold Jezebel across it and the ragged purple shadows of the ranges to theeast. Jim sat, chin in palm, elbow on knee, eyes wide on the soft wonderof the night. It always seemed to him that the desert night freed him oftime and space and set him close to the Master Dream. He had learned totake his grief and his despairs to the desert mountain tops. 

He had sat for an hour going over his life and his friendship with IronSkull when a quick step sounded on the Elephant's back and Penelopeswung past him out to the edge of the crater that formed the Elephant'seast side. She stood there, her gray suit fluttering in the night wind, looking far and wide as if the view were new to her. Then she sat downon the ground, clasped her arms across her knees and bowed her head uponthem. There was so much despair in the gesture that Jim could not bearthe sight of it. 

CHAPTER XIV

THE ELEPHANT'S BACK

 "All living things have a universal hunger--to live again. The hunger for descendants is the same hunger. "

 MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. 

"Penelope!" Jim called softly. 

Pen raised her head as if she were dreaming. 

"Pen!" repeated Jim, rising and walking slowly toward her. "Don't sit sonear the edge. "

"You can see the eagle's nest from here, " said Pen, pointing down thecrater wall. "What brought you up here, Still?"

"The Elephant is an old friend of mine, particularly when I'm broken upas I am tonight, " replied Jim, taking Pen's hand and leading her back tohis own place which was sheltered from the wind. "What brought you here?And how about Sara?"

"Sara took some morphine tonight. He will be motionless until morning. Ever since the new moon came, I've been promising myself a trip uphere. "

"So Sara adds dope to his other accomplishments!" commented Jim. 

"He suffers so from insomnia, I don't blame him, " answered Pen. "He haspain practically all of the time. I think he gradually grows worse. Poor Sara! He said tonight he hated the sight of even a dog that can useits own legs. Don't be too hard on him, Jim. "

"I can't help being hard on him when I see how he treats you, the cad!"said Jim. 

"He can't hurt me, " said Pen. "I'm too sorry for him. Though I'll admitthat I never knew what it was to lose control of my temper until after Iwas married. Still, where will they bury Iron Skull?"

"We have a little graveyard high on the mesa-top, yonder. He had not arelative in the world. He was of good old New England stock. He wastrying to tell me something about his feeling for the Dam because ofthat when he was killed. "

Jim was speaking a little brokenly and Pen laid her hand on his arm. 

"The big dangers on the dam, we try to guard against. We can't evenforesee a thing like Iron Skull's sacrifice. But I know he would haveliked to have gone giving his life for someone he loved the way he didold Suma-theek. Sometimes I think there ought to be listed on a bronzetablet on the wall of each great structure the names of those who diedin giving it birth. The big structures all are consecrated in blood. Skyscrapers, bridges, and dams all demand their human sacrifices. Thirtymen went on the Makon. We've lost eight here so far. "

"Sara was frightfully upset, " said Pen. "That's why he took themorphine. Any thought of death makes him hysterical. The chant set himto swearing frightfully. Jim, I'd give anything to be able to set Sararight with himself. "

"Pen, why did Sara come down here?" asked Jim abruptly. 

Penelope hesitated. She did not want to voice Iron Skull's suspicionsuntil she had verified them. "I don't know, Jim, " she said finally. "Ithought it was for his health and land, but I feel uneasy since I seehis attitude toward you. "

"If he has an idea of speculating in real estate, I'll have to head himoff, " said Jim. "Land speculation hurts the projects very seriously. "

"What harm does it do?" asked Pen. 

"Inflates land values so that farming doesn't pay with the already heavybuilding charges for the dam. "

"Oh, I see!" mused Pen. "I'll talk to Sara about it. "

"Don't say a word to him. I can fight my own battles with Sara. Penelope, what were you thinking about when you sat over there at thecrater edge with your head on your arms?"

In the moonlight a slow red stained Pen's face. Jim watched her withpuzzled eyes. 

"I--I can't tell you all I was thinking, " she said. "But some of it wasbecause of Iron Skull. I was thinking how awful it will be for us todie, you and Sara and me, leaving not a human being behind us, just asIron Skull did. "

"Most of us New Englanders are going that way, " said Jim. "We Americanshave so steadily decreased our birth rate in the past hundred years thatwe are nearly seven million babies below normal. South European childrenwill take their places. "

"Well, I don't know that it will hurt America in the long run, " saidPen. 

"I think it will, " insisted Jim. "This country is governed byinstitutions that are inherently Teutonic. The people who will inheritthese institutions are fundamentally different in their conceptions ofgovernment and education. I'm a New Englander, descendant of theAnglo-Saxon founders of the country. I can't see my race and its idealpassing without its breaking my heart. "

"Why do you pass?" asked Pen sharply. "Why don't you brace up?"

"We don't know how, " said Jim. 

"I wonder if that's true, " murmured Pen, "and if it is true, why!"

Silence fell between the two. The night wind sighed softly over theElephant's broad back. The eagle, disturbed by the voices above hisnest, soared suddenly from the crater, dipped across the canyon, andcircled the flag that was seldom lowered before the office. The flagfluttered remotely in the moonlight. 

"Look, Jim, " whispered Pen, "the eagle and the flag so young and theElephant so old and poor Iron Skull lying there dead! I wish I couldmake a legend from it. The material is there. . . . Oh, Sara said suchhorrible things tonight!"

Penelope shivered. Jim jumped up and held out his hand. "Come, littlePen! I'm going to take you home. How cold your fingers are!"

Jim kept Pen's cold little hand warm within his own whenever the trailpermitted on the way back. But he scarcely spoke again. 

The next day Iron Skull's funeral was held in the little adobe chapelwhich was filled to overflowing. A great crowd of workmen, Americans, Mexicans and Indians, gathered outside. At Suma-theek's earnestpetition, Jim allowed the Indians to carry the coffin on their shouldersup the trail behind the lower town to the mesa crest where the littlegraveyard lay. And Jim also gave Suma-theek permission to make afarewell speech when the grave had been filled. The missionary hadprotested but Jim was obdurate. 

"Suma-theek owes his life to Iron Skull. I shall let him do hisuttermost to show his gratitude. He is a fine old man, as fine in theeyes of God, no doubt, as you or I, Mr. Smiley. "

So as the last of the sand and gravel was being shoveled into the grave, the old Apache stepped forward and raised his lean brown hand. 

"My blood brother, " he said, "he lies in this grave. If he have squaw orchilds, old Suma-theek, he go give life for them. Iron Skull he no haveanyone left on this earth who carry his blood. He gone! He leave no markbut in my heart. Injun and white they come like pile of sand desert winddrifts up. They go like pile of sand desert wind blows down. GreatSpirit, He say, 'Only one strength for mens; that the strength of manychilds, Injuns, they no have many childs. They die. Mexicans they havemany childs, they live. Niggers, they have many. They live. Whites theyno have many childs. Come some day like Injuns, like Iron Skull, theysee on all of earth, no blood like theirs. They lay them down to diealone. Old Iron Skull, he a real man. He fight much. He work hard. Hekeep word. He die for friend. Maybe when Great Spirit look down at IronSkull, it make Him love Iron Skull to know old Injun carry Iron Skull'smark in his lonely heart. O friends, I know him many, many years! Wesmoke many pipes together. We hunt together. We sabez each other'shearts. Ai! Ai! Ai! Beloved!"

And old Suma-theek broke down and cried like a child. 

The crowd dispersed silently. The rising night wind began its task ofsifting sand across Iron Skull's grave. Coyotes howled far on themountain tops. And the night shift began to repair the cofferdam for oldJezebel had dropped suddenly back into her old trail. 

A day or so after the funeral Sara said to Penelope, "When are you goingdown to see Mrs. Ames?"

"What makes you so friendly to the Ames family?" Pen asked in surprise. 

"Ames may be useful to me, " replied Sara. "I want you to cultivate him. "

"I'll not do it for any such reason, " said Pen quickly. "I like Mrs. Ames and I plan to see a great deal of her. But I'll not play cat's pawfor you. What are you up to, Sara?"

"None of your business, " said Sara. 

Pen flushed, but fell back on the whimsical manner that was her defenseagainst Sara's ill-nature. 

"It's your subtlety that fascinates me, Sara. Did you ever try a steamroller?"

Sara scowled: "Of course, I suppose it's too much to ask you to take aninterest in my business affairs. If I were a well man, I might hope tomake an impression on you. "

"By the way, Sara, " said Pen, "land speculation hurts these Projects. Idon't think you ought to try to make money that way. Of course, if Mr. Ames wants to sell you some land, I suppose I can't keep you frombuying, but Jim says that, coupled with the heavy building charges, inflated land values are doing the Service a lot of harm. "

Pen watched Sara closely. Sara when calm was close-mouthed. Sara whenangry was apt to talk! His face flushed quickly. 

"Jim! Jim!" he sneered. "I heard it all the time in New York and now I'mgetting it here. Oh, wait and see, the two of you!"

For the first time since the first years of bitter adjustment, Penshowed fire. She crossed the room and stood over Sara's couch, hercheeks scarlet, her hazel eyes deep with some suppressed fire. 

"Do you think I fear you, with your vile tongue and your yellow heart, George Saradokis? There is neither fear nor love nor hope nor regretleft in my heart! It long ago learned that marriage is a travesty andour marriage a nightmare. Do you think your impudence or your threats_hurt_ me any more? You waste your breath if you do. You and I have madea hopeless mess of our lives. Jim is doing a big work. If I find you arelaying a straw in his way, I'll--I'll shove you, couch and all, over thecanyon edge. "

Sara suddenly laughed. Even as she uttered her threat Pen wasmechanically straightening his pillow!

"Look here, Pen, " he said, "I know I'm a devil! The pain and the awfulfailure of my life make me that. But I'll try to be more decent. For theLord's sake, Pen, don't you go back on me or I'll take an overdose ofmorphine. I do want to make some money and any land deal that Ames and Iput through, I'll let Jim pass on. Does that satisfy you?"

It was not often that Sara tried to wheedle Pen. She looked at himsuspiciously but nodded carelessly. 

"All right! If Jim sees it I'll consent. If you get any honest enjoymentout of Mr. Ames, I'll get him up here often. Mrs. Ames is a dear. "

"You are a good old sort, Pen, " returned Sara. "Why can't you go downtomorrow? Mrs. Flynn would look out for me, I guess. They say thatfellow Bill Evans will ride people anywhere in his machine. "

"I'll go over and see Mrs. Flynn now, " said Pen. She was really eagerfor a visit with Jane Ames. She wondered if Iron Skull might not havebeen over-suspicious regarding Sara's purposes. Sara had an unquenchableitch for money-making. During all his long illness he had never ceased, with his father's help, to trade in real estate. Pen suspected that thesavings of many Greek immigrants were absorbed in Sara's and hisfather's schemes, none too honestly. 

"Perhaps, " said Pen, as she pinned on her hat, "Jim would take me down. Doesn't it seem natural though to have Jim doing things for me again!"

Some note in Pen's voice brought Sara to his elbow. 

"Pen!" he shouted. "I've long suspected it. Are you in love with JimManning?"

CHAPTER XV

THE HEART OF A DESERT WIFE

 "The squaws who come at times to crouch upon my back have the slow listening patience of the rabbits. "

 MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. 

Pen paused, eyes angry, mouth disgusted: "You are the last person I'dever tell, Sara, if I were. Don't add idiocy to your otheraccomplishments. "

Sara's black eyes continued to glare for a moment. Then for the secondtime he astonished Penelope by laughing. He dropped back on his pillow. 

"Pen! Pen! a lawyer could have given no better answer than that! I'm notworrying, Pen. You've stuck by me all these years. I know I'm safe tothe end. "

Penelope's scorn changed to pity. "I've been horrid today. You will haveto forgive me, Sara. You must remember that you are no mild June day tolive with!"

Sara gave a short nod. "Give me my pipe, Pen, and then jolly Mrs. Flynnup. "

Mrs. Flynn, whose curiosity was only equaled by her kindness of heart, was only too willing to take care of Sara. Had a caged South Africanlion been placed in her care she would have had the same thrill at thethought of caring for it as at watching Sara. Great stories of Sara'smarvelous temper had gone about the camp. Any extra steps he caused Mrs. Flynn she felt would be more than compensated for in the delectablegossip she would pick. 

Pen did not ask Jim to take her down to the Ames place. She arranged togo down with Bill Evans, who kept a hog ranch near the dam. Bill fed hishogs on the camp table scrapings and filled in odd moments "renting out"his automobile. This was a sad-looking vehicle of an early vintage, heldtogether by binding wire and bits of sheet iron. But Bill got twentymiles an hour out of the machine and took better care of it than he didof his wife. 

The Ames ranch lay in the desert valley below the dam. Two hours afterthey left the dam, Bill drew up before the Ames door with a rattle and aseries of staccato explosions that would have done credit to anapproaching army. 

The trip down had been a noisy rush through multicolored ranges out ontoa desert floor of brilliant yellow dotted with giant cactus, thataustere sentinel of the desolate plains. Long before they left themountain road Bill pointed out to Penelope the green spot in the desertthat was the Ames ranch. The road, leaving the desert, ran along anirrigating ditch fringed with cotton woods. Beyond the road lay acreafter acre of alfalfa, its peculiar living green melting far beyond inthe shimmering of olive orchard and orange grove. 

The ranch house was of yellow gray adobe, long and low, with a red roof. Oscar had made no attempt at beauty when he had added, year after year, room on room to the original box he had built for Jane. But heunknowingly had kept close to real art. He had built of the material ofthe country in the manner best suited to the exigencies of the country. The result, consequently, was satisfying to eye and taste. 

The walls of a desert house must be thick, for coolness. The lines ofthe house must be broad and low and strong, to withstand the fearfulwinds of late winter and early spring. The Ames house lay comfortably onthe desert as if it had grown up out of the sand and proposed to liveforever. It was as natural a part of the landscape as the sentinelcactus. 

Jane Ames, in a blue gingham dress, was standing in the door. She wavedboth hands as she recognized Pen. When the machine stopped she tookPen's bag. 

"Of course I knew it was Bill's machine half an hour ago, but I didn'tknow my luck had changed enough to bring you. "

"I can stay over night, " said Pen, like a child out of school. 

"Come straight into the parlor bedroom, " said Jane. "Bill, you'll findOscar in the lower corral. "

Pen followed into the house. Jane led her through a vista of rooms intothe parlor, which was furnished with a complete "near" mahogany set ingreen velvet. The parlor bedroom was furnished to match. Jane alwaysshowed the people whose opinion she valued her parlor first that theedge might be taken off the living room. After Pen had taken off herhat, she followed her hostess kitchenward. 

The living room was big and square, the original house. It contained awide adobe fireplace and its windows opened toward the orange grove. Itwas furnished with tables and chairs that Mrs. Ames had bought from anold mission in the neighborhood. They were hand-hewn and black with age. The Navajo floor rugs were soft and well worn. Jane apologized for theroom, saying she left it old and ugly for the hired men and thechildren, then she established Pen in a rocking chair in the kitchen. 

The kitchen was a model of convenience, boasting running water as wellas a kitchen cabinet and a gasoline range. 

"It took me just five years to raise enough chickens and eggs to buy thecabinet and the range, " said Jane, taking a peep at the bread in theoven. "I begged and begged Oscar to get me things to work with everytime he sent to the mail-order house to get farm machinery. But he'djust grunt. Finally I got mad. He had running water put in the barn andwouldn't send it on up to the house. He went to San Francisco that falland I had men out here and put water in the kitchen. When he got backthe bill was waiting for him and he was ashamed to complain. It isn'tthat men are so bad. It's just because they haven't any idea what realwork housework is. How is your husband?"

"About as usual, " replied Pen. 

Jane Ames looked out the door, then back at Pen. "Are you ever sorry yougot married?"

Pen looked a little startled, but after a moment she answered, "I usedto be. "

"You mean you aren't now?" asked Jane. 

"I mean I'm glad I've got the things marriage has brought me. "

Jane's eyes lighted. She sat down opposite Pen. "I'm just starved for atalk with some woman who isn't afraid to say what she really thinksabout this marriage business. What have you got out of being married toa cripple?"

Pen chuckled. "Well, I'm really a first-class nurse, and like Bismarck, I can keep my mouth shut in seven different languages. "

"Isn't that so!" exclaimed Jane. "Oscar insists on doing all the talkingfor us and I let him. Some day if I ever find anything worth saying, though, I'll surprise him. I'm in the 'What's the use?' stage right now. Men are awful hard to live with. "

"Almost as hard as women!" said Pen. "We're all so silly about it. Weexpect marriage to bring us happiness with no effort on our own parts, just as if the only aim of getting married were to be happy. "

"Mercy sakes!" exclaimed Jane. She sat forward on the edge of the chair. "Go on! Don't stop. I knew the minute I saw you that talking to youwould beat writing to the advice column of a woman's magazine. What isit we marry for, anyhow?"

Pen laughed. "Well, when we don't marry to be happy, we marry out ofcuriosity. It's funny when you think of it. Two people with nothing incommon have a period of insanity during which they tie themselvestogether in a hard knot which they can't undo and then they must feed oneach other for the rest of their lives. "

Jane gasped a little. "You--you aren't bitter, are you, Mrs. Penelope? Ican't say your other name easy. You believe there are _some_ happymarriages, don't you?"

Pen shrugged her shoulders. "No, I'm not bitter. I've just lost myillusions. I don't happen to know of any marriages so happy that theywould tempt me to marry again. "

"I feel kind of wicked talking this way, " said Jane. "But, " recklessly, "you've seen the world and I haven't. And it's my chance to learn reallife. You don't mean people ought not to marry, do you?" This in ahalf-whisper of utter demoralization. 

"Oh, no! Marriage is the best means we've found for perpetuating andimproving the race. It's a duty we owe society, to marry. I don'tbelieve much in divorce either. Except for unfaithfulness. Unless theaverage lot of us are true to the marriage ideal the whole institutionwill be tainted. I guess the safety of society lies in each of uslooking at ourselves as average and not exceptional persons. Then westick to the conventions. And the conventions weren't foisted on societyfrom above. They were sweated out from beneath to satisfy; make itpossible for us to endure each other. "

Jane Ames threw up both her hands. "O my! You have been hurt or you'dnever be so cold-blooded! I can't look at it as calmly as you do as ifit all belonged to someone else. You never bore children to a man. Youcan't realize what selfishness and unkindness from the father of yourchildren can mean. Do you know that I've borne two babies in thisroom--alone--not even a squaw to help me? And I've watched the desertthrough the door and I've cursed it for what it's made of my marriage!"Jane gave a short laugh and held up her knotted, rough hands. "I haddimples on my knuckles when I came to this country. "

Pen looked out the door and tried to picture to herself this otherwoman's life. 

"I--I guess my safety has lain in my getting an impersonal view ofthings, " she said apologetically. 

"There, the bread is burning!" exclaimed Jane. 

Pen laughed reminiscently. "There's a verse that says:

 "'Ice cream is very strange; so's a codfish ball, But the people people marry is the strangest thing of all!'"

"I guess you need me, " said Jane, "as much as I need you. There comesOscar and I haven't set the table. "

Oscar was coming up the dooryard. He stepped a little high, in the gaitof one accustomed to walking in shifting sands. He was big andupstanding, with a look of honesty that Pen liked. 

No one who has not known a desert farmer can realize what his acresmeant to Oscar Ames. The farmer of northern lands loves his acres. Buthe did not create them--he did not fight nature for them, until he hadmade himself over along with his land. 

Nature fights inch by inch every effort of man to harness the desert tohis uses. She scorches the soil with heat. She poisons it with alkali. She infests it with deadly vermin and--last and supreme touch ofcruelty--she forbids the soil water unless she surrounds the getting ofit with infinite travail and danger. 

Heat and sandstorm, failure and famine, toil unutterable, these hadbeen Oscar Ames' portion. When at last he had won his acres, had broughtthe barren sand to bearing, had made three hundred acres of desert athing of breathing beauty from January to January, the ranch meantsomething to him that a northern farmer could not understand. And thesethree hundred acres were Oscar's world. He could not see beyond them. The dam was a mere adjunct to the Ames ranch. He would leave no stoneunturned to see that it served his own ranch's needs as he saw them. IfSara saw this quality in Oscar and had any motive for playing on it, hecould do infinite harm to Jim. 

It was something of all this that Pen was thinking as Oscar crossed theyard. He came into the kitchen in a leisurely way and greeted Pen withthe cordiality that belongs to the desert country. Penelope helped Janeto put the dinner on the table and the three sat down to eat. 

The two were eager to hear details of Iron Skull's death, and after Penhad described it to them, Oscar began to talk about Sara. 

"How long's your husband been bedridden?" he asked. 

"Oscar!" exclaimed Jane. 

"Jane, you keep quiet. What's the use of being secret about it? I guessboth him and her know he's bedridden. "

Pen told them the story of the accident. 

"Isn't that fierce!" exclaimed Oscar. "He's the smartest young fellowI've met in years. I wish even now he was running the dam instead ofManning. "

"Why?" asked Penelope. 

"He'd build it for the farmer and have some business sense about it. "

"You don't understand Mr. Manning, " said Pen. "I wish you'd try to getto know him better. "

Oscar grunted. "Does the doctors think your husband will get well?" heasked, finishing off his pie. 

"Oscar!" cried Jane. 

"Jane, you keep quiet. These are business questions. If Sardox and I aregoing to run this dam, we got to understand each other's limitations. Ican't ask _him_ if he's going to die. "

"We just don't know anything about it, " said Pen, gently. "Mr. Ames, I'mcurious to know just how you and Sara are going to run the dam. "

Oscar closed his mouth importantly to open it again and say, "I nevertalk business with ladies. "

Jane laughed suddenly. "Gracious, Oscar! I'm not worrying but what I'llget all the details. He's the original human sieve, Mrs. Penelope. "

Oscar joined in Pen's laugh and started for the door, shaking his headand picking his teeth. Pen looked after him uneasily. 

That afternoon Pen and Jane went with Bill and Oscar for an automobileride over the desert. The two women sat in the tonneau, Oscar in frontwith Bill. The desert road was rough, full of bowlders and ruts. Butneither Oscar nor Bill was hampered by roads. Whenever some distant spotroused their curiosity, the machine left the road and plunged madlyacross the desert, through cactus thickets and yucca clumps, throughdraws and over sand drifts. 

Oscar and Bill kept up a shouted conversation with each other. But Penand Jane each clutched a side of the machine, braced their feet andgave their entire attention to keeping from being flung bodily from thecar. Forewarned for miles, no living creature crossed their path. Thedin and the dust, the hairbreadth escapes made the discomfort of theride for the two women indescribable. 

When Bill finally drew up before the ranch house door with his usualflourish of staccato explosions, Oscar alighted and watched Pen and hiswife crawl feebly from the tonneau. 

"_Caramba!_" he said. "That was a fine ride! I've been wanting to get alook at that country and a talk with you, Bill, for a month. I feel wellrested. "

Pen and Jane looked at each other and at the two men's grins ofcomplaisance. Then, without a word, the two women sank against eachother on the doorstep and laughed until the men, bewildered andexasperated, took themselves off to the barn. Finally Jane rose andwiped her eyes. 

"There's not an inch on my body that isn't black and blue, " she saidweakly. 

Pen pulled herself up by clinging to the door knob. "That was a real'pleasure exertion, '" she whispered feebly. "But I'd do it twice overfor a laugh like this. I haven't laughed so for eight years. "

Jane gave Pen a kitchen apron and tied one on herself while she nodded. "Thank heaven! I always could laugh. It's saved my reason many a time. Idon't want you to do a thing about getting supper, but you'll be sittinground in the kitchen and that'll keep your skirt clean. "

Pen picked up a pan of cold boiled potatoes and began to peel them withmore good will than skill. "I do like you, Jane Ames, " she said. "Twopeople couldn't laugh together like that and not have been meant tounderstand each other. "

Jane set the tea kettle firmly on the stove. "We'll see each other a lotif we have to walk. Peel them thin, dear child. I'm a little low onpotatoes. "

"I'm not very expert, " apologized Pen. "Sara is putting up with a gooddeal just now, for I'm learning how to cook. "

"I guess he don't suffer in silence!" sniffed Jane. 

The next morning, when Penelope climbed regretfully onto the front seatof the automobile, Oscar came hurriedly from the corral with adark-mustached young man in a business suit. 

"This is Mr. Fleckenstein, Mrs. Sardox, " he said. "He's a lawyer and himand I are going up to the dam with you. He just stopped here on his way. I'm leaving his horse in the corral, Jane. "

Jane and Penelope exchanged puzzled looks. "Your hair needs fixing, Mrs. Penelope, " said Jane. "Come in the house for a minute. "

Pen clambered down obediently and Jane led her far into the parlorbedroom. "Your hair was all right, " she whispered, "but I want to warnyou. Oscar is just a great big innocent. He is crazy over anyone hethinks is smart. That Fleckenstein is a shyster lawyer. I wouldn't trusta hot stove in his hands. You see that your husband don't get thick withhim. Do you trust your husband in business?"

Pen winced but she looked into Jane's blue eyes and answered, "No. "

"Do you like Mr. Manning and want him to succeed?"

"Yes, " replied Pen. 

"Well then, it's time I took notice of things on this project and youcan help me by watching things up there. I won't take time to say anymore right now. Oscar will be storming in here in a minute. "

When they reached the dam that afternoon, Oscar and Fleckenstein calledon Sara. Pen found that they would talk nothing but land values whileshe was in the tent, so she wandered out in search of Jim. 

She found him at the dam site. He was talking to a heavy-set, red-facedman in khaki. He was considerably older than Jim, who introduced thestranger as Mr. Jack Henderson. 

"Henderson will take Iron Skull's place, " explained Jim. "You mustremember how I wrote home of him and how he helped me save my reputationas a road-builder on the Makon. He's been down on the diversion dam. "

Penelope held out her hand. "I shall never cease regretting that Ididn't get to see the Makon, " she said. 

Henderson's gray eyes lost their keenness for a moment. "It was hard forme to come up knowing I was to take Iron Skull's job. " Pen listened insurprise to his low, gentle voice. "You know, Boss Still Jim, if he'dhad a better chance for a education he'd have made his mark. He was justnaturally big. He could see all over and around a thing and what it hadto do with things a hundred years back and a hundred years on. That'swhat I call being big. A good many fellows that lives a long time in thedesert gets a little of that, but Iron Skull had it more than anyone Iknow. I wish he'd had a better chance. I can fill his job, Boss, as faras the day's work goes, but I can't give you the big look of things hecould. "

Henderson was standing with his hat off, and now he rumpled his grayhair and shook his head. Pen liked him at once. 

Jim nodded. "I miss him. I always shall miss him. I often thought thatif my father had come out to this country, he'd have grown to be likeIron Skull. And they are both gone. "

"That's the way life acts, " said Henderson. "It's always the man thatought to stay that goes. And there's never any explanation of how you'regoing to fill the gap. He's jerked out of your life and you will go lamethe rest of your life for all you know. These here story books that tryto show death has got a lot of logic about it are liars. There ain't anyreason or sense about death. It just goes around, hit or miss, like alizard snapping flies. "

There was a moment's silence during which the three stared at theElephant. Then Jack cleared his throat and said casually, in his gentlevoice:

"You're going to have a devil of a job enforcing your liquor ruling, Boss. It'll make trouble with the whites and more with the _hombres_. "

Jim's steel jaw set. "There's not to be a drop of liquor on this damexcept in the hospital. I expect you to back me in this, Jack. You knowwhat trouble I had on the Makon because I never came down hard. "

"Sure, I'll back you, " said Henderson gently. "But I just wanted you torealize that it's going to be hell round a half mile track to enforceit. You never saw me backward about getting into a fight, did you?"

Jim smiled reminiscently and then said, "I'm going to start an icecream and soft drink joint next to the moving picture show. "

Here Pen laughed. "I asked one of the oilers in the cable tower theother day if he liked to work for the government. He grunted. I askedhim if Uncle Sam didn't take good care of him and he said: 'Yes, and sodoes a penitentiary! What does men like the Big Boss know about what wewant? Why don't he ask me?'"

Jim nodded. "That's typical. One of the hoboes I brought in half-starvedthe other day came to my office this morning and told me how to feed thecamp. He doesn't like our menu. As near as I can make out this was hisfirst experience at three meals a day and he never saw a bathtub before. There isn't a rough-neck in the camp that isn't convinced he could buildthat dam better than I. Eh, Jack?"

"Sure, all except the old Makon bunch. "

"Well, we're up against the same old problem here, Henderson. We've gotto have better co-operation and yet enough rivalry to keep every man onthe job working his limit. The foremen don't pull together. "

"In that case, " said Henderson tenderly, "I'll begin by going over andkick the head off the team boss. "

He smiled at Pen and started up the trail. Pen watched the workmen whowere cleaning up the top of the concrete section. 

"Did you have a good time with Mrs. Ames?" asked Jim. 

"Still, she's a dear! And Oscar isn't so bad when you know him. Do youknow, Jim, he actually believes that you are not building the dam forthe farmers! Can't you do something to make him understand you?"

"Look here, Pen, " replied Jim, "I'm building this dam for this valley, for all time, not for Oscar Ames or Bill Evans, nor for any one man. I'mdoing my share in building. I'm not hired to educate these idiots. "

Pen eyed Jim intently, trying to get his viewpoint and turning old IronSkull's words over in her mind. Jim was standing with his hat under hisarm and his brown hair blowing across his forehead. 

"Pen, " he said suddenly, "you are the most beautiful woman in theworld. "

Pen blushed clean to her eyebrows. Jim went on eagerly: "Penelope, Iwant to tell you how I feel about you. Will you let me?"

Pen looked at the Elephant helplessly. But the great beast lay mute andinscrutable in the sun. There was a look in Jim's eyes that Pen wouldhave found hard to control had not Jim's secretary chosen that moment tointerrupt them. 

"Mr. Manning, " he said, "a letter has just come in for you from theSecretary of the Interior. You told me to notify you when it came. "

CHAPTER XVI

THE ELEPHANT'S LOVE STORY

 "Coyotes hunt weaker things. Humans hunt all things, even each other, which the coyote will not do. "

 MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. 

"Don't let me keep you here, Jim, " exclaimed Pen so hastily that Jimcould not help smiling. She scuttled hastily up the trail ahead of him, her heavy little hunting boots doing wonders on the rough path. 

The Secretary's letter disturbed Jim very much. It was not the result hehad expected from the Hearing at all. Nor was the letter itself easy forJim to understand. 

 "MY DEAR MR. MANNING:

 "There are several facts connected with your work that I would like to call to your attention. The Reclamation Service is an experiment, a magnificent one. It is not a test of engineering efficiency, except indirectly. Engineers as a class are efficient. It is an experiment to discover whether or not the American people is capable of understanding and handling such an idea as the Service idea. It is a problem of human adjustment. Is an engineer capable of handling so gigantic a human as well as technical problem? I shall be interested in getting your ideas along this line. 

 "---- Secretary of the Interior. "

Jim laid the letter down. He recalled the Secretary's fine, inscrutableface and that something back of its mask that he had liked andunderstood. He felt sure that the letter had been impelled by thatfar-seeing quality that he knew belonged to the Secretary but for whichhe had no lucid word. And yet the letter roused in Jim the old sense ofresentment. What did the Secretary want him to do; turn peanutpolitician and fight the water power trust? Did no one realize that theerecting of the dam was heavy enough responsibility for any one man?

His first impulse was to take the letter over to Pen. Then he smiledwryly. He must not take all his troubles to her or she would get norelief from the burdening that Sara put upon her. So he brooded over theletter until supper time when he went with Henderson down to the lowermess. Jim ate with the lower mess frequently. It was almost the only wayhe had now of keeping in touch personally with his workmen. 

After supper and a pipe in the steward's room Jim climbed the long roadto the dam. The road hung high above the dam site. The mountains and thebulk of the Elephant were black in the shadowy regions beyond the arclights. Black and purple and silver below lay the mighty section ofconcrete, with black specks of workmen moving back and forth on it, pygmies aiding in the birth of a Colossus. The night sky was dim andremote here. Despite the roar of the cableways, the whistles of foremen, the rushing to and fro of workmen, the flicker of electric lights, onecould not lose the sense of the project's isolation. One knew that thedesert was pressing in on every side. One knew that old Jezebel, havingcrossed endless wastes, having fed on loneliness, whispered threats oftrouble to the narrow flume that for a moment throttled her. One knewthat the Elephant never for a moment lost his sardonic sense of theimpermanence of human effort. 

When Jim reached his house, he found old Suma-theek camped on thedoorstep. 

"What is it, Suma-theek?" asked Jim. 

"Old Suma-theek, he want make talk with you, " replied the Indian. 

Jim nodded. "I'd like to talk with you, Suma-theek. Wait till I getenough tobacco for us both and we'll go up on the Elephant's back, eh?"

Suma-theek grunted. The two reached the Elephant's top withoutconversation and sat for perhaps half an hour, smoking and mute. Thiswas quite an ordinary procedure with them. 

Finally Suma-theek said, "Why you make 'em this dam?"

"So that corn and cattle and horses will increase in the valley, "replied Jim. 

The Indian grunted. "Much talk! Why _you_ make 'em?"

"It's my job; the kind of work I like. "

"What use?" insisted Suma-theek. "People down in valley they much swearat you. Big Sheriff at Washington, he much swear at you. You muchlonely. Much sad. Why you stay? What use? Much old Suma-theek wonder atthat. Why old Iron Skull work on this dam? Why you, so young, so strong, no have wife, no have child, marry dam instead? You tell old Suma-theekwhy. "

Jim had learned on the Makon that while war and hunting might have beenan Indian's business in life, his avocation was philosophizing. He hadlearned that many a pauperized and decrepit old Indian, warming his backin the sun, despised of the whites, held locked in his marvelous mindtreasures of philosophy, of comment on life and living, Indian andwhite, that the world can ill afford to lose, yet never will know. 

Jim struggled for words. "Back east, five sleeps, where I was born, there are many people of many tribes. They fight for enough food to eat, for enough clothes to wear. When I was a boy I said to myself I wouldcome out here, make place for those people to come. "

"But, " said Suma-theek, "the dam it will no keep whites from fighting. They fight now in valley to see who can get most land. What use?"

"What use, " returned Jim, "that you bring your young men up here andmake them work? I know the answer. You are their chief. It is yourbusiness to do what you can to keep their stomachs full and their backswarm. You don't ask why or the end. "

The Indian rolled another cigarette. He was like a fine dim cameo in thestarlight. "I sabez!" he said at last. "Blood of man, it no belong toself but to tribe. So with Injuns. So with some whites. Not so with_hombres_. "

Again the eagle, disturbed by voices, dipped across the canyon. "See, Suma-theek, make the story for me, " said Jim. "There are the eagle andthe flag so young and the Elephant so old. Make the story for me. "

There was a long silence once more. The desert wind sighed over the twomen. The noise of building came up faintly from below but the radianceof the stars was here undimmed. 

Finally Suma-theek spoke:

"Long, long, many, many years ago, before whites were born, Injuns livedfar away to the west, maybe across the great water. All Injuns then hadone chief. He very great, very wise, very strong. But he no have son. Heheap wise. He know, man no stronger than number of his sons. He get old. No have son. Then he call all young men of tribe to him, and say: 'Thatyoung man shall be my son who shows me in one year the strongest thingin world, stronger than sun, stronger than wind, stronger than desert, than mountains, than rivers at flood. '

"All young men, they start out to hunt. All time they bring back to oldchief strong medicine, like rattlesnake poison, like ropes of yuccafiber, like fifty coyotes fastened together. But that old chief he laughand shake his head. 

"One day young buck named Theeka, he start off with bow and arrow. Hesay he won't come back until he sure. Theeka, he walk through desertmany days. Injuns no have horses then. Walk till he get where no man gobefore. And far, far away on burning sand, he see heap big animal move. It was bigger than a hundred coyotes made into one. Theeka he run, getpretty close, see this animal is elephant. 

"And he say to self, 'There is strongest thing in world. ' And he startfollow this elephant. Many days he follow, never get closer. The more hefollow, the more he want that elephant. One morning he see other dotmove in desert. Dot come closer. It woman, young woman, much beautiful. She never say word. She just run long by Theeka. 

"All time he look from elephant to her. All time he feel he love her. All time he think he no speak to her for fear he lose sight of elephant. By'mby, beautiful girl, she fall, no get up again. Theeka, he run on buthis heart, it ache. By'mby he no can stand it. He give one look atelephant, say, 'Good-by, you strongest thing! I go back to her I love. 'Then his spirit, it die within him, while his heart, it sing. 

"He go back to girl. She no hurt at all. She put her arms round Theeka'sneck and kiss him. Then Theeka say, 'Let strongest thing go. I love you, O sweet as arrow weed in spring!'

"And beautiful girl, she say: 'I show you strongest thing in world. Come!' And she take him by hand and lead him on toward elephant. Andthat elephant, all of a sudden, it stand still. They come up to it. Theysee it stand still because little To-hee bird, she circle round hishead, sing him love songs. 

 "'O yahee! O yahai! Sweet as arrow weed in spring!'

sing that little bird to Elephant. And he stop, stop so long here byriver while that little bird build her nest in his side, he turn tostone and live forever. 

"Then Theeka, he sabez. He lead his beautiful girl back to chief and hesay to chief: 'I have found strongest thing in world. It is love. '

"And chief, he say: 'You and your children's children shall be chiefs. Ihave not known love and so I die. '"

Suma-theek's mellow voice merged into the desert silence. "But the eagleand the flag?" asked Jim. 

"Injuns no understand about them, " replied the old chief. "You sabez thestory old Suma-theek tell you?"

"I understand, " replied Jim. 

"Then I go home to sleep, " said Suma-theek, and he left Jim alone on theElephant's back. 

Jim sat long alone on the night stars. The sense of failure was heavyupon him. Wherein, he asked himself, had he failed? How could he findhimself? Was his life to be like his father's after all? Had he put offuntil too late the mission he had set himself so long ago, that ofseeking the secret of his father's inadequacy? For a few wild moments, Jim planned to answer the Secretary's letter with his resignation, togive up the thankless fight and return--to what?

Jim could not picture for himself any work or life but that which he wasdoing; could not by the utmost effort of imagination separate himselffrom his job. His mind went back to Charlie Tuck. He wondered whatCharlie would have said to the Secretary's letter. It seemed to Jim thatCharlie had had more imagination than he. Perhaps Charlie would havebeen able to have helped him now. Then he thought of Iron Skull and ofthat last interrupted talk with him. What had Iron Skull planned to say?What had he foreseen that Jim had been unable to see? It seemed to Jimthat he would have given a year of his life to know what advice had beenin his old friend's mind. 

A useless death! A life too soon withdrawn! Suddenly Jim's whole heartrose in longing for his friend and in loyalty to him. His death must notbe useless! The simple sweetness of the sacrifice must not gounrewarded. His life would not be ended!

Jim looked far over the glistening, glowing night and registered a vow. So help him God, he would not die childless and forlorn as Iron Skullhad done. Some day, some way, he would marry Penelope. And somehow hewould make the dam a success, that in it Iron Skull's last record ofachievement might live forever. 

Strangely comforted, Jim went home. 

The Secretary's letter remained unanswered for several days. The nextmorning Henderson reported that a section of the abutments showed signsof decomposition. At the first suggestion of a technical problem withwhich to wrestle, Jim thrust the Secretary's elusive one aside. Hestarted for the dam site eagerly, and refused to think again that day ofthe shadow that haunted his work. 

In excavating for the abutments a thick stratum of shale had beenexposed that air-slaked as fast as it was uncovered. Jim gave ordersthat drifts be driven through the stratum until a safe distance frompossible exposure was reached. These were to be filled with concreteimmediately. It was careful and important work. The concrete of the dammust have a solid wall to which to tie and drift after drift must bedriven and filled to supply this wall. Jim would trust no one's judgmentbut his own in this work. He stayed on the dam all the morning, watchingthe shale and rock and directing the foremen. 

At noon he went to the lower mess where he could talk with the masonryworkers. Five hundred workmen were polishing off their plates in thegreat room. Jim chuckled as he sat down with Henderson at one of thelong tables. 

"If I could get the _hombres_ to work as fast as they eat, " he said, "Icould take a year off the allotted time for the dam. "

The masonry workers and teamsters at whose table Jim was sittinggrinned. 

"There's only one form of persuasion to use with an _hombre_, " commentedHenderson, gently. "There's just one kind of efficiency he gets, outsideof whisky. "

"What kind is that?" asked a teamster. 

"The kind you get with a good hickory pick-handle across his skull, "said Henderson in a tender, meditative way as he took down half a cup ofcoffee at a gulp. "I've worked hombres in Mexico and in South Americaand in America. You must never trust 'em. Just when you get where theirpoliteness has smoothed you down, look out for a knife in your back. Inever managed to make friends for but one bunch of hombres. "

Henderson reached for the coffee pot and a fresh instalment of beef andwaited patiently while Jim talked with the master mason. Finally Jimsaid: "Go ahead with the story, Jack. I know you'll have heartburn ifyou don't!"

"It was in Arizona, " began Henderson. The singing quality in his voicewas as tender as a girl's. "I had fifty hombres building a bridge over adraw, getting ready for a mining outfit. No whites for a million milesexcept my two cart drivers, Ryan and Connors. The hombres and the Irishdon't get on well together and I was always expecting trouble. 

"One day I was in the tent door when Ryan ran up the trail and beckonedme with his arm. I started on the run. When I got to the draw I saw thefifty hombres altogether pounding something with their shovels. Igrabbed up a spade and dug my way through to the middle. "

Henderson's voice was lovingly reminiscent. "There I found Ryan andConnors in bad shape. Connors had backed his cart over an _hombre_ andthe whole bunch had started in to kill him. Ryan had run for me and thengone in to help his friend. I used the spade freely and then dragged thetwo Irishmen down to the river and stuck their heads in. When they cameto, they were both for starting in to kill all the hombres. I arguedwith 'em but 'twas no use, so I had to hit 'em over the head with apick-handle and put 'em to sleep. Then I went back and subdued thehombres to tears with the same weapon. "

"Did you ever have any more trouble?" asked a man. 

"Trouble?" said Henderson, gently. "They didn't know but a word or twoof English, but from that time on they always called me 'Papa'!"

Jim roared with the rest and said as he rose, "If you think you'veabsorbed enough pie to ward off famine, let's get back to the dam. "

Henderson followed the Big Boss meekly. They started up the road insilence, Jim leading his horse. Suddenly Jack pulled off his hat and ranhis fingers through his bush of hair. 

"Boss, " he said, "I chin a lot to keep me cheered up while I finish IronSkull's job. I wish he could have stayed to finish it. Of course hehelped on the Makon but he never had as good a job as he's got here. Ain't it hell when a man goes without a trace of anything living behindhim! A man ought to have kids even if he don't have ideas. I often toldIron Skull that. But he said he couldn't ask a woman to live the way hehad to. I always told him a woman would stand anything if you loved herenough. "

Jim nodded. Iron Skull's life in many ways seemed a personal reproach toJim for his own way of living. 

The work at the abutments absorbed Jim until late afternoon; absorbedhim and cheered him. About five o'clock he started off to call on Pen, and tell her about the Secretary's letter. He found her plodding up theroad toward the tent house with a pile of groceries in her arms. 

"I missed the regular delivery, " she replied to his protests as he tookthe packages from her, "and I love to go down to the store, shopping. It's like a glorified cross-roads emporium. All the hombres and theirwives and the 'rough-necks' and their wives and the Indians. Why it'sbetter than a bazaar!"

Jim laughed. "Pen, you are a good mixer. You ought to have my job. You'dmake more of it than I do. "

"That reminds me, " said Pen. "Jim, that man Fleckenstein is going to runfor United States Senator. He's going to promise the ranchers that he'llget the government to remit the building charges on the dam. Will thathurt you?"

"Where did you hear this?" asked Jim. 

"Fleckenstein and Oscar came up this morning and they talked it overwith Oscar. Sara was guarded in what he said before me, but I believehe's going to get campaign money back East. Why should he, Jim?"

She eyed Jim anxiously. There was hardly a moment of the day that thethought of the responsibility that Iron Skull had placed on hershoulders was not with her. But she was resolved to say nothing to Jimuntil she had a vital suggestion to make to him. 

Jim looked at the shimmering lavenders and grays of the desert. It hadcome. A frank step toward repudiation. A blow at the fundamental idea ofthe Service. That was to be the next move of the Big Enemy. And what hadSara to do with it? All thought of the Secretary's letter left Jim. Hemust see Sara. But Penelope must not be unduly worried. He turned to herwith his flashing smile. 

"Some sort of peanut politics, Pen. Is Sara alone now? I'll go talk tohim. "

As if in answer Sara's voice came from the tent which they were almostupon. "Pen, come here!"

Pen did not quicken her pace. "I don't like to change speeds going up asteep grade, " she called. 

"You hustle when I call you!" roared Sara. 

Jim pulled the reins off his arm and dropped them to the ground over thehorse's head, the simple process which hitches a desert horse. He leftPen with long strides and entered the tent. 

"Sara, if I hear you talk to Pen that way again, I don't care if you areforty times a cripple, I'll punch your face in! What's the matter withyou, anyhow? Did your tongue get a twist with your back?"

"Get out of here!" shouted Sara. 

Jim recovered his poise at the sight of Pen's anxious eyes. "NowSweetness, " he said to Sara, "don't hurry me! You make me so nervouswhen you speak that way to me! I think I'll get a burro up here for youto talk to. He'd understand the richness of your vocabulary. Look herenow, Sara, we all know you're having a darned hard time and there isn'tanything we wouldn't do for you. Don't you realize that Pen issacrificing her whole life to being your nurse girl? Don't you think youought to make it as easy for her as you can?"

"Easy!" mocked Sara. "Easy for anyone that can walk and run and come andgo? What consideration do they need?"

Pen and Jim winced a little. There was a whole world of tragedy inSara's mockery. He looked fat and middle-aged. His hair was grayingfast. His fingers trembled a good deal although the strength in his armsstill was prodigious. Yet Pen and Jim both had a sense of resentmentthat Sara should take his life tragedy so ill, a feeling that he wasindecorous in flaunting his bitterness in their faces. As if he sensedtheir resentment, Sara went on sneeringly:

"Easy for you two, with your youth and good looks and health topatronize me and fancy how much more decently you could die than I. Iwish the two of you were chained to my inert body. How sweet and patientyou would be! Bah! You weary me. Pen, will you go over to Mrs. Flynn'sfor the root beer she promised me?"

Pen made her escape gladly. When she was out of hearing Jim said, "Sara, why do you want the building charges repudiated?"

"Who said I wanted them repudiated?" asked Sara. 

"A tent is a poor place to hold secrets, " replied Jim. "Did you comehere to do me dirt, Sara? Did I ever do you any harm?"

Sara turned purple. He raised himself on his elbow. "Why, " he shouted, "did you destroy my chances with Pen by getting her love? You wanted itonly to discard it!"

CHAPTER XVII

TOO LATE FOR LOVE

 "Honor is the thing that makes humans different from dogs--some dogs! When women have it, it is mingled always with tenderness. "

 MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. 

Jim jumped to his feet and took a stride toward Sara's couch, thenchecked himself. 

"Oh, I'm not accusing you of planning the thing!" sneered Sara. "I'dhave more respect for you if you had. Pen doesn't know that I know. If Ihadn't got hurt I'd probably never dreamed of it. Pen and I would haveraised a family and I'd have had no time to think of you. But it didn'ttake more than a year of lying on my back and watching her to see thatit was more than my crippled condition that was changing Pen. Damn you!Why should you have it all, health and success and Pen's love? I'll getyou yet, Jim Manning!"

Jim stood with his arms folded fighting desperately to keep his handsoff Sara. Deep in his heart Jim realized, there was none of the pity forSara's physical condition that civilized man is supposed to feel for thecripple. Far within him was the loathing of the savage for somethingabnormal; the loathing that once left the physically unfit to die. Yetsuperimposed on this loathing was the veneer of civilization, thatforces kindness and gentleness and self-denial toward the fit that theunfit may be kept alive. 

So Jim gripped his biceps and ground his teeth and the crippled man inthe chair stared with bitter black eyes into Jim's angry gray ones. Jimfought with himself until the sweat came out on his lips, then without aword he left the tent, mounted his horse and rode back to the dam site. 

He wanted time to think. It was very evident that Sara meant mischief, but just how great was his capacity for doing him harm Jim could onlyguess. The idea of his extremely friendly relations with Arthur Freetbothered Jim now. If Freet were really trying to influence the sale ofthe water power through Sara, the wise thing to do would be to send Saraback to New York. And yet, if Sara went, Pen would go, too! Jim's heartsank. He could not bear to think of the dam now without Pen. He squaredhis shoulders suddenly. He would not send Sara away until he had somereal proof that his threats were more than idle. At any rate, it was nothis business to worry over the sale of the water power. If he producedthe power he was doing his share. And when he had fallen back on his oldexcuse Jim gave a sigh of relief and went home to supper. 

Henderson was in the office the next morning when Jim opened a letterfrom the Director of the Service. He was sorry, said the director, thatthere had been so much loss of time and property in the flood. Herealized, of course, that Jim had done his best, but people who did notknow him so well would not have the same confidence. The CongressionalCommittee on Investigation of the Projects, on receipt of numerouscomplaints regarding the flood, had decided to proceed at once to Jim'sproject and there begin its work. 

Jim tossed the Director's letter to Henderson and laid aside theSecretary's letter, which he had planned to answer that morning. 

"More time wasted!" grumbled Jim. "There will be a hearing andtalky-talk and I must listen respectfully while the abutments crumble. Why in thunder don't they send a good engineer or two along with theCongressmen? A report from such a committee would have value. How wouldCongress enjoy having a committee of engineers passing on the legalityof the work it does?"

Henderson laid the letter down, rumpling his hair. "Hell's fire!" hesaid gently. "My past won't stand investigating. You ask the Missis ifit will! I'm safe if they stick to Government projects and stay awayfrom the mining camps and the ladies. "

Jim's eyes twinkled. "Perhaps your past is black enough to whiten minein contrast. I'll ask Mrs. Henderson. "

Henderson suddenly brightened. "I've got a dying favor to ask of you. Let me take the fattest of 'em to ride in Bill Evans' auto?"

Jim looked serious. "Your past must have been black, all right, Jack!You show a naturally vicious disposition. Really, I haven't anythingpersonal against these men. It's just that they take so much time andinsist on treating us fellows as if we were pickpockets. "

"I ain't as ladylike as you, " said Henderson, in his tender way. "I justnaturally hate to be investigated. My Missis does all that I can stand. I won't do anything vicious, though. I'll just show a friendly interestin them. I might lasso 'em and hitch 'em behind the machine, but thatmight hurt it and, anyhow, that wouldn't be subtle enough. These hereEasterners like delicate methods. I do myself. At least, I appreciatethem. The delicatest attention I ever had that might come under the headof an investigation was by an Eastern lady. It was years ago on an oldirrigation ditch. Her husband was starting a ranch and I caught himstealing water. I was pounding him up when she landed on me with asteel-pronged garden rake. She raked me till I had to borrow clothesfrom her to go home with. That sure was some delicate investigation. "

"The world lost a great lyric soloist in you, Jack, " commented Jim. "Jokes aside, it's fair enough for them to investigate us. If themembers of the committee are straight, it ought to do a lot towardstopping this everlasting kicking of the farmers. We've nothing to fearbut the delay they cause. "

Jack sighed regretfully. "Well, I'll be good, if you insist. Let's give'em a masquerade ball while they're here. "

"Good, " said Jim. "Will you take charge?"

"Bet your life!" replied Henderson, whose enthusiasm for social affairshad never flagged since the day of the reception to the Director, up onthe Makon. 

Jim spent a heavy morning on the dam, climbing about, testing andcalculating. Already the forms were back in place ready to restore theconcrete swept away by the flood. Excavation for the next section ofthe foundation was proceeding rapidly. At mid-afternoon, Jim wassquatting on a rock overlooking the excavation when Oscar Ames appeared. 

"Mr. Manning, " he said angrily, "that main ditch isn't being run as nearmy house as I want it. You'd better move it now, before I make you moveit. "

"Go to my irrigation engineer, Mr. Ames, " replied Jim shortly. "He hasmy full confidence. "

"Well, he hasn't mine nor nobody's else's in the valley, with his darneddude pants! I am one of the oldest farmers in this community. I had asmuch influence as anybody at getting the Service in here and I proposeto have my place irrigated the way I want it. "

"By the way, " said Jim, "you folks use too much water for your own good, since the diversion dam was finished. Why do you use three times whatyou ought to just because you can get it from the government free? Don'tyou know you'll ruin your land with alkali?"

Ames looked at Jim in utter disgust. "Did you ever run an irrigatedfarm? Did you ever see a ditch till eight years ago? Didn't you get youreducation at a darned East college where they wouldn't know a ditch fromthe Atlantic Ocean?"

"Look here, Ames, " said Jim, "do you know that you are the twelfthfarmer who has been up here and told me he'd get me dismissed if wedidn't put the ditch closer to his ranch? I tell you as I've told themthat we've placed the canal where we had to for the lie of the land andwhere it would do the greatest good to the greatest number when theproject was all under cultivation. Some of you will have to dig longerand some shorter ditches. I can't help that. Isn't that reasonable?"

"It would be, " sniffed Ames, "if you knew enough to know where the bestplace was. That's where you fall down. You won't take advice. Justbecause I don't wear short pants and leather shin guards is no reasonI'm a fool. "

Jim's drawl was very pronounced. "The shin guards would help you whenyou clear cactus. And if you'd adopt a leather headguard, it wouldprotect you in your favorite job of butting in. "

"I'll get you yet!" exclaimed Ames, starting off rapidly toward thetrail. "I've got pull that'll surprise you. "

Jim swore a little under his breath and began again on his interruptedcalculations. When the four o'clock whistle blew and the shifts changed, some one sat down silently near Jim. Jim worked on for a few moments, finishing his problem. Then he looked up. Suma-theek was sitting on arock, smoking and watching Jim. 

"Boss, " he began, "you sabez that story old Suma-theek tell you?"

Jim nodded. "Why don't you do it, then?" the old Indian went on. 

Jim looked puzzled. Suma-theek jerked his thumb toward the distant tenthouse. "She much beautiful, much lonely, much young, much good. Why youno marry her?"

"She is married, Suma-theek, " replied Jim gently. 

"Married? No! That no man up there. She no his wife. Let him go. He badin heart like in body. You marry her. "

Jim continued to shake his head. "She belongs to him. The law says so. "

Suma-theek snorted. "Law! You whites make no law except to break it. Love it have no law except to make tribe live. Great Spirit, he mustthink she bad when she might have good babies for her tribe, she staywith that bad cripple. Huh?"

"You don't understand, Suma-theek. There is always the matter of honorfor a white man. "

Suma-theek smoked his cigarette thoughtfully for a moment and then hesaid, wonderingly: "A white man's honor! He will steal a nigger woman oran Injun woman. He will steal Injun money or Injun lands. He will stealwhite man's money. He will lie. He will cheat. Where he not afraid, white man no have honor. But when talk about steal white man's wife, heafraid. Then he find he have honor! Honor! Boss, white honor is likerain on hot sand, like rotten arrow string, like leaking olla. I am old, old Injun. I heap know white honor!"

Old Suma-theek flipped his cigarette into the excavation and strodeaway. Jim rose slowly and looked over at the Elephant with his gray eyesnarrowed, his broad shoulders set. 

"On your head be it!" he murmured. "I am going to try!"

He climbed the trail to his house, washed and brushed himself and wentover to the tent house. Pen was sitting on the doorstep. Oscar Ames wastalking to Sara. 

"Hello, Sara!" said Jim coolly. "Pen, I've got a free hour. Will youcome up back of the camp with me and let me show you the view from WindRidge? It's finer than what you get from the Elephant. "

Sara's face was inscrutable. Oscar said nothing. Pen laid aside her bookand picked up her hat. 

"I knew there was something the matter with me, " she said gaily. "It wasWind Ridge I was missing though I never heard of it before! I won't belong, Sara. "

"Don't hurry on my account, " said Sara, with a sardonic glance at Jim. 

The trail led up the mountain slope with a steady twist toward a ridgeat the top that showed a sawtooth edge. Almost to the top the mountainwas dotted with little green cedars, dwarfed and wind-tortured. Up atthe saw edge they stopped. Here the wind caught them, wind floodingacross desert and mountain, clean, sweet, with a marvelous tang to it, despite the desert heat. 

"Why, it's a world of lavenders!" cried Pen. 

Jim nodded and steadied her against the great warm rush of the wind. Farto the east beyond the purple Elephant the San Juan mountains lay on thehorizon. They were the faintest, clearest blue lavender, with iridescentpeaks merging into the iridescent sky. The desert that swept toward theElephant was a yellow lavender. The mountain that bore the ridge was agray lavender. To the west, three great ranges vied with each other inmelting tints of purple, that now were blue, now were lavender. The twomight have been sitting at the top of the world, the sweep of the viewand the sense of exaltation in it were so great. 

Mighty white clouds rushed across the sky, sweeping their blue shadowsover the desert, like ripples in the wake of huge sailing ships. 

When Pen had looked her fill, Jim led her to a clump of cedars thatbroke the wind and made a seat for her from branches. Then he tossed hishat down and stood before her. Pen looked up into his face. 

"Why so serious, Still Jim?" she asked. 

"Penelope, " asked Jim, "do you remember that twice I held you in my armsand kissed you on the lips and told you that you belonged to me?"

Pen whitened. If he could only dream how the pain and sweetness of thoseembraces never had left her!

"I remember! But let's not talk of that. We settled it all on the dayyou got back from Washington. We must forget it all, Jim. "

"We can never forget it, Pen. We're not that kind. " Jim stood strugglingfor words with which to express his emotion. It always had been thisway, he told himself. The great moments of his life always found himdumb. Even old Suma-theek could tell his thoughts more clearly than he. Jim summoned all his resources. 

"Pen, it never occurred to me you wouldn't wait. There has never beenany other woman in my life and I suppose I just couldn't picture anyother man having a hold on you. But it all goes in with my generalincompetence to grasp opportunity. I felt that I had no right to go anyfarther until I had more than hopes to offer you. I planned to make areputation as an engineer. I knew money didn't interest you. I wanted tooffer myself to you as a man of real achievement. You see how I failed. I have made a reputation as a grafting, inefficient engineer with thepublic. You are another man's wife. But, Penelope, I am not going togive you up!

"One gets a new view of life out here. You are wrong in staying withSaradokis. Why should three lives be ruined by his tragedy? Pen! Pen! IfI could make you understand the torture of knowing you are married toSara! You are mine! From the first day I came upon you in the oldlibrary, we belonged to each other. Pen, I've tramped the desert nightafter night on the Makon and here, sweating it out with the stars and Ihave determined that you shall belong to me. "

Pen, white and trembling, did not move her gaze from Jim's face. All hertired, yearning youth stood in her eyes. 

Jim spoke very slowly and clearly. "Penelope, I love you. Will you leaveSaradokis and marry me?"

Pen did not answer for a long moment. A to-hee trilled from the cedar:

 "O yahee! O yahai! Sweet as arrow weed in spring!"

The Elephant lay motionless. The flag rippled and fluttered, a faint redspot far below on the mountainside. Pen's youth was fighting with herbitterly won philosophy. Then she summoned all her fortitude. 

"Jim, dear, it would be a cowardly thing for me to leave Sara. "

"It would be greater cowardice to stay. Pen, shall you and I die as IronSkull did? I can marry no other woman feeling as I do about you. Sara'slife is useless. Let the world say what it will. Marry me, Penelope. "

"Jim, I can't. "

"Why not, Penelope?"

"I love you very dearly, but I've had enough of marriage. I've done myduty. I don't see how I could keep on loving a man after I married him, even if he weren't a cripple. The process of adjustment is simplyfrightful. Marriage is just a contract binding one to do theimpossible!"

Jim scowled. More and more he was realizing how Sara had hurt Pen. 

"You don't care a rap about me, Pen. Why don't you admit it?"

Pen gave a sudden tearful smile. "You know better, Jim. But just toprove to you what a silly goose I am, I'll show you something. Girls inreal life do this even more than they do it in novels!"

Pen opened a flat locket she always wore. A folded bit of paper and atiny photograph fluttered into her lap. She gave both to Jim. Thepicture was a snapshot of Jim in his football togs. The bit of paper, unfolded, showed in Pen's handwriting a verse from Christina Rossetti:

 "Too late for love, too late for joy; Too late! Too late! You loitered on the road too long, You trifled at the gate: The enchanted dove upon her branch Died without a mate: The enchanted princess in her tower Slept, died, behind the grate: Her heart was starving all this time You made it wait. "

Jim put the bit of paper into his pocket and gave Pen the picture. Hiseyes were full of tears. 

"Pen! Pen!" he cried. "Let me make it up to you! We care so much!Suppose we aren't always happy. Oh, my love, a month of life with youwould make me willing to bear all the spiritual drudgery of marriage!"

White to the lips, Pen answered once more: "Jim, I will never leaveSara. There is such a thing as honor. It's the last foundation that thewhole social fabric rests on. I promised to stay with Sara, in themarriage service. He's kept his word. It's my business to keep mine, until he breaks his. "

Jim stood with set face. "Is this final, Penelope?"

"It's final, Still. "

"Do you mind if I go on alone, Pen?"

Pen shook her head and Jim turned down the mountainside. And Pen, beinga woman, put her head down on her knees and cried her heart out. Thenshe went back to Sara. 

That night Jim answered the Secretary's letter:

"My work has always been technical. I know that the Projects are not thesuccess their sponsors in Congress hoped they would be, but I feel thatyou ask too much of your engineers when you ask them not only to makethe dam but to administer it. I have about concluded that an engineer isa futile beast of triangles and _n_-th powers, unfitted by his verytalents for associating with other human beings. I suppose that thisletter must be interpreted as my admission of inefficiency. "

It was late when Jim had finished this letter. He was, he thought, alonein the house. He laid down his pen. A sudden overpowering desire cameupon him for Exham, for the old haunts of his childhood. There itseemed to him that some of his old confidence in life might return tohim. He dropped his arm along the back of his chair and with hisforehead on his wrist he gave a groan of utter desolation. 

Mrs. Flynn, coming in at the open door, heard the groan and saw thebeautiful brown head bowed as if in despair. She stopped aghast. 

"Oh, my Lord!" she gasped under her breath. "Him, too! Mrs. Penelopeain't the only one that's broken up, then! Ain't it fierce! I wonderwhat's happened to the poor young ones! I'd like to go to Mr. Sara'swake. I would that! Oh, my Lord! Let's see. He's had two baths today. Ican't get him into another. I'll make him some tea. You have to cheer upeither to eat or take a bath. "

She slipped into the kitchen and there began to bang the range andrattle teacups. When she came in, Jim was sitting erect and stern-faced, sorting papers. Mrs. Flynn set the tray down on the desk with a thud. She was going to take no refusal. 

"Drink that tea, Boss Still Jim, and eat them toasted crackers. Youdidn't eat any supper to speak of and you're as pindlin' as a knittingneedle. Don't slop on your clean suit. That khaki is hard to iron. "

She stood close beside him and made an imaginary thread an excuse forlaying her hand caressingly on Jim's shoulder. "You're a fine lad, " shesaid, uncertainly. "I wish I'd been your mother. "

The touch was too much for Jim. He dropped the teacup and, turning, laidhis face against Mrs. Flynn's shoulder. 

"I could pretend you were tonight, very easily, " he said brokenly, "ifyou'd smooth my hair for me. "

Mrs. Flynn hugged the broad shoulders to her and smoothed back Jim'shair. 

"I've been wanting to get my hands on it ever since I first saw it, lad. God knows it's as soft as silk and just the color of oak leaves inwinter. There, now, hold tight a bit, my boy. We can weather any stormif we have a friend to lean on, and I'm that, God knows. It's a fearfulcold I've caught, God knows. You'll have to excuse my snuffing. Therenow! There! God knows that in my waist I've got a letter for you fromMrs. Penelope. She seemed used up tonight. Her jewel of a husband tookdope tonight, so she and I sat in peace while she wrote this. I'll leaveit on your tray. Good-night to you, Boss. Don't slop on your suit. "

CHAPTER XVIII

JIM MAKES A SPEECH

 "I am permanent so I cannot fully understand the tragedy that haunts humans from their birth, the tragedy of their own transitoriness. "

 MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. 

Jim drank his tea, staring the while at the envelope that lay on thetray. Then he opened the envelope and read:

 "DEAR STILL: Don't say that I must go away. I want to stay and help you. I promised Iron Skull that I would. I don't want to add one breath to your pain--nor to my own!--and yet I feel as if we ought to forget ourselves and think only of the dam. No one knows you as I do, dear Jim. Iron Skull felt, and so do I, that somehow, sometime I can help you to be the big man you were meant to be. I have grown to feel that it was for that purpose I have lived through the last eight years. If it will not hurt you too much, please, Jim, let me stay. 

 PENELOPE. "

Jim answered the note immediately. 

 "DEAREST PEN: Give me a day or so to get braced and we will go on as before. Stand by me, Pen. I need you, dear. 

 JIM. "

But it was nearly two weeks before Jim talked with Pen again. For anumber of days he devoted himself day and night to the preparations forstarting the second section of the dam in the completed excavation. Thenformal notice came that the Congressional committee would arrive at thedam nearly a week before it had been expected and Jim was overwhelmed inpreparations for its reception. The first three days of theinvestigation were to be devoted to inspecting the dam. Jim brought thecommittee to the dam from the station himself. 

There were five men on the committee, two New Englanders and three farwesterners. They were the same five men who a year before hadinvestigated Arthur Freet's projects and they were baffled andsuspicious. And Jim's silence irritated them far more than ArthurFreet's loquacity. The members from the West and from Massachusettswere, in spite of this, open-minded, eager for information andinterested in the actual work of the dam building. The member fromVermont pursued Jim with the bitterness of a fanatic. 

"A Puritan hang-over is what ails him, " Jim remarked to Henderson. "Hewould burn a woman for a witch for having three moles on her back, aseasy as--as he'd fire me!"

Henderson snorted: "I wish he was fat. I'd take him to ride in BillEvans' machine. But, gee! he's so thin he'd stick in the seat like asliver!"

Henderson had devoted himself to the entertainment of the visitors. Hehad organized a picnic to a far canyon where the "officers" and theirwives offered the committee a wonderful camp supper, by a camp firethat lighted the desert for miles. He had induced the Mexicans in thelower camp to give one of their religious plays for the second night'sentertainment. The moving picture hall was turned into a theater and theplay, in queer Spanish, a strange mixture of miracle-play andbuffoonery, delighted the hombres and astounded the whites. But theconsummation of Henderson's art as an entertainment provider was to bethe Mask Ball. This was to take place after the hearing at Cabillo wasfinished. 

Jim gave all his time to the committee. He turned the office and itsforce over to them; gave them the freedom of the account books and thesafe. Let them rummage the warehouse and its system. Explained hisengineering mistakes to them. Went over and over the details of theflood, of the weathering abutments, of the concrete that did not come upto specifications, of the new system of concrete mixture that he and hiscement engineer were evolving and which Jim believed in so ardently thathe was using it on the dam. But in regard to Freet or to any graft inthe Service he was persistently silent. 

The Hearing was like and yet unlike the May hearing. It lacked thedignity of the first occasion and the Vermont member who presided wasnot the calm, inscrutable judge that the Secretary had been. The hall inCabillo was packed with farmers and their wives and sweethearts and withDel Norte citizens. 

The main effort of the speakers at the Hearing was to prove theinordinate extravagance and incompetence of Jim and his associates. Forthree days Jim answered questions quietly and as briefly as possible. But he was not able to compass the cool indifference that had kept himstaring out the window of the Interior Department. There was growingwithin him an overwhelming desire to protest. He saw that, however fairthe other members of the committee were inclined to be, their certaintyof Freet's dishonesty, coupled with the fact that he was a pupil ofFreet's, would be used by the restless vindictiveness of the Vermontmember without doubt, to bring about his dismissal. 

He felt an increasing desire to make a last stand against the wall ofthe nation's indifference, to make the people of the Project and thepeople of the world understand his viewpoint. But words failed him untilthe last day of the Hearing. 

On this last day, Sara and Pen attended the hearing, as guests ofFleckenstein, who had sent his great touring car for them. Jim nodded tothem across the room but made no attempt to speak to them. It wasnearing five o'clock when Fleckenstein closed his testimony. 

"The Reclamation Service, " he said, "is like every other department ofthe government. It is a refuge for the incompetent whose one skill is ingrafting. The cost of this dam has jumped over the estimates by hundredsof thousands. Forty dollars an acre is what the farmers of this projectmust pay the government instead of the estimated thirty. I do not laythe whole blame on Mr. Manning, even though he is Freet's pupil. Part ofit is due to the criminal ignorance and weakness of Mr. Manning'spredecessor. We farmers----"

"Stop!" thundered Jim. He jumped to his feet. Fleckenstein gasped. Jimthrew back his hair. His gray eyes were black. His thin brown face wasflushed. Under his khaki riding suit his long steel muscles were tense. 

"My predecessor was Frederick Watts. I grew to know him well. He was amaster mind in his profession, but he was gentle and sensitive and, likemany men who have lived long in the open, silent. About the time that hestarted to build this dam the money interests in this country decidedthat the nation was getting too much water power control. They decidedthat the best way to stop the nation's growth in this direction was todiscredit the Service. Frederick Watts was one of their first targets. By means too subtle for me to understand, they set machinery going inthis vicinity by which every step that Watts took was made a kickagainst him. 

"They never let up on him. They hounded him. They put him to shame withthe nation and in the privacy of his own family. Watts was over fiftyyears old. He was no fighter. All he wanted was a chance to build hisdam. He was gentle and silent. He went into nervous prostration anddied, still silent, a broken-hearted man. 

"Up in the big silent places you will find his monuments; dams high inmountain fastnesses, an imperishable part of the mountains; trestlesthat bridge canyons which birds feared to cross. He spent his life inutter hardships making ways easy for others to follow. These monumentswill stand forever. But the name of their builder has become a blackenedthing for rats like Fleckenstein to handle with dirty claws. 

"And now they are after me. And you, many of you, in this audience, arethe sometimes innocent and sometimes paid instruments of my downfall. You accuse me of grafting, of lying and stealing. You don't understand. "

Jim paused and moistened his lips. The room was breathless. Pen couldhear her heart beat. She dug her fingernails into her palm. Could he, _could_ he find the words? Even if these people did not understand, could he not say something that would teach her how to help him? Jim didnot see the crowded room. Before him was his father's dying face andIron Skull's. His hands felt their dying fingers. 

"I am a New Englander. My people came to New England 250 years ago andfought the wilderness for a home. We were Anglo-Saxons. We were trailmakers, lawmakers, empire builders. We founded this nation. We threwopen the doors to the world and then we were unable to withstand theflood that answered our invitation. The New Englander in America is asdead as the Indian or the buffalo. My people have failed and died withthe rest. I am the last of my line. 

"But I have the craving of my ancestry with something more. I can seethe tragedy of my race. I know that the day will come when thecivilization of America will be South European; that our everyinstitution will be altered to suit the needs of the South European andAsiatic mind. 

"I want to leave an imperishable Anglo-Saxon thumb print on the map; athumb print that no future changes can obliterate, a thumb print thatshall be less transitory than the pyramids because it will be a part ofthe fundamental needs of a people as long as they hunger or thirst. 

"Look at the roster of the Reclamation Service. You will find it aroster of men whom the old vision has sent into dam building and roadmaking. Here in the Service you will find the last stand of theAnglo-Saxon trail makers. 

"I want to build this dam. I want to build it so that, by God, it shallbe standing and delivering water when the law that makes it possibleshall have passed from the memory of man! And you won't let me build it. You, some of you Anglo-Saxons yourselves, destined to be obliterated asI shall be, are fighting me. You say that I am _stealing_. I, fightingto leave a thumb print!"

Jim dropped into his seat and for a moment there was such silence in theroom that the palm leaves outside the window could be heard rattlingsoftly in the breeze. Then there broke forth a great round ofhandclapping, and during this Jim slipped out. He was not much deceivedby the applause. He knew that it would take more than a burst ofeloquence to overcome the influences at work against the Service. 

He returned to the dam that night, Pen and Sara came up the next day andthat evening Jim went over to call. It was his first word with Pen sincethe walk to Wind Ridge. He found Sara sleeping heavily. Pen greeted himcasually. 

"Hello, Still! Sara was suffering so frightfully after his trip that hetook his morphine. It was insane of him to go to the Hearing, but hewould do it. Sit down. We won't disturb him a bit. "

She pulled the blanket over the unconscious man in her usual tender way. 

"You are mighty good to him, Pen, " said Jim. 

"I try to be. I guess I'm as good to him as he'll let me be, poorfellow. Jim, he was fine in his college days, wasn't he?"

"I never saw a more magnificent physique, " answered Jim. "He was a greatathlete and I used to believe he was a greater financier than Morgan. "

Pen looked at Jim gratefully. "And if it hadn't been for the accident hewould have been just as easy to get along with as the average man. "

Jim chuckled. "I don't know whether that's a compliment to Sara or aninsult to the average man. What have you done with yourself during theinvestigation?"

"Taken care of Sara, communed with my soul and the laundry problem andhad several nice talks with Jane Ames. She is a dear. "

Jim nodded. Then he pulled the Secretary's letter from his pocket with acopy of his own answer and handed them to Pen. "I've come for advice andcomment, " he said. 

Pen read both and her cheeks flushed. "Have you sent your answer?"

Jim nodded. 

Pen stared at him a moment with her mouth open, then she said, withheartfelt sincerity, "Jim, I'm perfectly disgusted with you!"

Jim gasped. 

"Like the average descendant of the Puritan, " Pen sniffed, "you arelying down on your job. Thank God, I'm Irish!"

"Gee, Pen, you're actually cross!"

"I am! If I were not a perfect lady I'd slap you and put my tongue outat you, anything that would adequately express my disdain! Forpig-headed bigotry, bounded on the north by high principles and on thesouth by big dreams, give me a New Englander! You make me tired!"

"For the Lord's sake, Pen!"

Pen laid down her bit of sewing and looked at Jim long and earnestly, then she said, quietly, "Jim, why don't you go to work?"

Jim looked flushed and bewildered. "I work eighteen hours a day. "

Pen groaned. "I'm talking about your capacity, not your output. You areonly using half of what is in you, Still. You build the dam and yourefuse to do anything else. Why, with your kind of creative, engineeringmind, you are perfectly capable of administering the dam, too. Ofhandling all the problems connected with it in a cool, scientific waythat would come very near being ideal justice. You know that theprojects are an experiment in government activity. You know that thepeople who will control them have no experience or training that willfit them for handling the projects. Yet you refuse to help them. You arejust as stupid and just as selfish as if you had built a complicatedmachine and had turned it over to children to run, refusing them allexplanation or guidance. "

Pen paused, breathless, her cheeks scarlet, her eyes glowing. Jimwatched her, his face pitifully eager. Perhaps, he thought, Pen wasactually going to lay her finger on the cause of his inadequacy. 

"Instead of antagonizing every farmer on the Project, you ought to bemaking them feel that you are their partner and friend in a mightydifficult business. You told us yesterday that your ancestors not onlymade the trail but also the law of the trail. What are you doing? It'syour own fault if you lose your job, Still!"

Pen got up and turned Sara's pillow and shaded the light from his face, mechanically. 

"You are just like all the rest of what you call the Anglo-Americans. You go about feeling superior and abused and calling the immigrants hardnames. You are just a lot of quitters. You have refused nationalservice. If you _are_ a dying race and you _are_ convinced that theworld can't afford to lose your institutions, how low down you are notto feel that your last duty to society is to show by personal examplethe value of your institutions. "

"I don't see what I can do, " protested Jim. 

"That's just what I'm trying to show you, " retorted Pen. "I have to plowthrough your ignorance first--clear the ground, you know! After youAnglo-Americans founded the government most of you went to money makingand left it to be administered by people who were racially andtraditionally different from you. You left your immigration problems tosentimentalists and money-makers. You left the law-making tomoney-makers. You refused to serve the nation in a disinterested, future-seeing way which was your duty if you wanted your institutions tolive. You descendants of New England are quitters. And you are going tolose your dam because of that simple fact. "

Jim began to pace the floor. "Did you ever talk this over with UncleDenny, Penelope?"

"No!" she gave a scornful sniff. "If ever I had dared to criticize you, he'd have turned me out of the house. No one can live in New York andnot think a great deal about immigration problems. And--I have been withyou much in the past eight years, Jimmy. I can't tell you how much Ihave thought about you and your work. And then, just before old IronSkull was killed, he turned you over to me. "

Jim paused before her. "He was worried about you, too, " she went on. "Hesaid you were not getting the big grasp on things that you ought andthat I must help you. "

"I wonder if that was what he was trying to tell me when he was killed, "said Jim. "The dear old man! Go on, Pen. "

"I've just this much more to say, Jim, and that is that if theReclamation Service idea fails, it's more the fault of you engineersthan of anyone else. The sort of thing you engineers do on the dam istypical of the Anglo-American in the whole country. You are quitters!"

"Pen, don't you say that again!" exclaimed Jim, sharply. "I'm doing allI can!"

CHAPTER XIX

THE MASK BALL

 "I have seen in the coyote pack that coyotes who will not hunt and fight for the pack must starve and die. "

 MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. 

"You are not!" returned Pen flatly. "You don't see the human side ofyour problem at all. You have made Oscar Ames hate you. Yet no man couldlive the life and do the things that Oscar has and not have developed afine big side to his nature. You never see that. And the dam is moreOscar's than it is yours. It is _for_ him. Still, somehow you have gotto make every farmer on the Project your partner. Make them feel thatyou and the dam are theirs. Show them how to take care of the things thedam will produce. Jim, dear, make your thumb print in the hearts of menas well as in concrete, if you would have your work endure. "

Jim paced the floor steadily. Old visions were passing before his eyes. Once more he saw the degraded mansions on the elm-shaded streets. OldExham, with its lost ideals. Ideals of what? Was Pen right? Was it theideal of national responsibility that Exham had lost--the ideal that hadbuilt the town meeting house and the public school, that had producedthe giants of those early days, giants who had ruled the nation with anintegrity long lost to these later times. 

"My father said to me, 'Somehow we Americans have fallen down on ourjobs!'" said Jim, pausing before Pen, finally. "Pen, I wonder if hewould have thought your reason the right one?"

Then he lifted Pen's chin to look long into her eyes. Slowly his wistfulsmile illumined his face. "Thank you, dear, " he said and, turning, hewent out into the night. 

The next night was given the Mask Ball in honor of the committee. Nobodyknew what conclusion the eminent gentleman had reached in regard to Jimand his associates. But everyone did his best to contribute to thehilarity of the occasion. 

The gray adobe building where the unmarried office men and engineerslived was gay with colored lights and cedar festoons. The hall in therear of the building had an excellent dancing floor. The orchestra wascomposed of three Mexicans--hombres--with mandolins and a guitar, and anIrish rough-neck who brought from the piano a beauty of melody that waslike a memory of the Sod. The four men produced dance music that NewYork might have envied. 

Several Cabillo couples attended the dance. Oscar Ames and Jane and oneor two other ranchers and their wives were there. All the wives of theofficers' camp came and the bachelors searched both the upper and lowercamps for partners, with some very charming results. Mrs. Flynn sat withSara, and Jim insisted that instead of going with Jane and Oscar, as shehad planned, that he be allowed to take Pen to the first ball she hadattended since her marriage. 

Henderson had ordered that the costumes be kept a great secret. Througha Los Angeles firm he provided dominoes for the five committeemen. Butthere were half a dozen other dominoes at the ball, so the committeequickly lost its identity. Oscar Ames came as a hobo. Henderson had apoliceman's uniform, while the two cub engineers wore, one, a cowboyoutfit; the other, an Indian chief's. Mrs. Henderson was dressed as asquaw. 

Penelope wore a flower girl's costume, improvised from the remains ofthe chintz she had brought from New York. Jim viewed her with greatcomplaisance. No one could look like Pen, he thought, and he would dancewith her all the evening. Jim went as a monk. To his chagrin, when theyreached the hall he found that Pen had made Mrs. Ames a costume exactlylike her own, and with the complete face masks they wore, they mighthave been twins. They were just of a height and Mrs. Ames danced well. The children and the phonograph had long ago attended to that. 

There was nothing stupid about the ball from the very start. Thepoliceman ended the grand march by arresting the hobo, who put up afight that included two of the dominoes. The orchestra swung into "LaPaloma" and in a moment the hall was full of swaying colors, driftingthrough the golden desert dust that filled the room. There were twice asmany men at the ball as women. The latter were popular to the point ofutter exhaustion. 

Henderson looked over the tallest domino, seized him by the throat andwith wild flourishes of his club, backed him into a corner. 

"Say, Boss Still Jim, " he whispered, "that old nut of a chairmandoesn't look as if he had anything but skim milk in his veins. But doyou sabez he's danced three times with that little fat ballet girl andhe's hugging the daylights out of her. He'd ought to be investigated. "

The tall domino looked at the couple indicated. "I'll startinvestigating, myself, " he whispered. 

"Wish I could get a dance with her, but I can't, " said Henderson. "MyMissis knows who I am. I ain't got her spotted yet, though. Yes, I have. That flower girl's her. I'd know the way she jerks her shouldersanywhere. "

He cut neatly in and separated the flower girl from the monk. "Lookhere, Minnie, " he said gently. "You ain't called on to dance like abroncho, you know. Remember, you're the mother of a family! Cut outhaving too many dances with that monk. He holds you too tight. I thinkhe's one of the committee men. You floss up to the tallest domino andgive him a good time. That's the Boss. "

The flower girl sniggered and Henderson pushed her from him with maritalimpatience and took an Indian squaw away from the hobo. 

"Come on, little girl, " he said. "You can dance all right. If my wifewasn't here I'd show you a time. "

The squaw stiffened and the monk swung her away from Jack, whoimmediately arrested old Dad Robins, the night watchman, who was takinga sly peak off his beat at the festivities. Henderson forced thedelighted old man through a waltz, with himself as a very languishingpartner. 

The hobo, dancing with one of the flower girls, said: "Jane, I've beentrying to get a chance to warn you not to say anything to Mrs. Penelopeabout that deal with Freet. I was a fool to let you see that lettertonight. Now I'm getting into national politics, you've got to learn tokeep your mouth shut. "

"How'd you know me?" whispered the flower girl. 

"You don't dance as good as Mrs. Pen, " he replied. 

Here the monk stole the flower girl and danced off with her, firmly. 

"Remember the dance at Coney Island and how mean you were to me?" hewhispered. 

"And how bossy and high-handed you were about the bathing? How did youknow me?"

The monk hugged the flower girl to him. "You haven't lived in my heartfor all these years without my getting to _know_ you!"

And the flower girl sighed ecstatically. 

The tall domino, dancing with the other flower girl, felt the strains ofEspanita creeping up his backbone, and he said, "There is something in the air out here that is almost intoxicating!"

The flower girl answered: "It'll do more than that for you, if you'llgive it a chance. It will make you see things. "

"I don't understand you, " replied the domino in a dignified way. 

"I mean you'd see if you stayed here long enough that what Jim Manningneeds is help, not investigating. "

"How do you know I'm not Manning?"

The flower girl sniffed. "I'm an old woman so I can tell you that nowoman would ever mistake him for anyone else after she'd once dancedwith him. "

"He is making a most regrettable record here, " very stiffly from thedomino. 

"Shucks! Why don't you fire Arthur Freet? I warn you right now that he'strying to get his hooks into this dam. "

"The Service might well dispense with both of them, I believe, " said thedomino. 

The flower girl sniffed again. "You politicians--" she began, when shewas interrupted by a call at the door. 

The music stopped. A white-faced boy had mounted a chair and wasshouting hysterically: "Where's the Boss? The hombres have shot myfather!"

"It's Dad Robins' boy! Why, the old man was here a bit ago!" criedsomeone. 

The monk pulled off his mask and flung his robe in the corner. "Oscar, "he said to the hobo, who had unmasked, "see to Mrs. Penelope. "

Then he grasped young Robins by the arm and rushed with him from thehall. 

Oscar hurried Pen and Jane up to the tent house with scant ceremony, then ran for the lower town. Mrs. Flynn and Sara were greatly surprisedby the early return of the merrymakers. The four waited eagerly fornews. Sara would not let any of the women stir from the tent, sayingthat it was unsafe until they knew what had happened. At midnight Oscarreturned. 

"They got poor old Dad. After he left the hall, he was going past alighted tent in the lower town when he heard sounds of a fight. He wentin and found two drunken Mexicans fighting over a flask of whiskey. Hetook the whiskey and told them to go to bed. He started out into thestreet and the two jumped him and started to stab him to death. Heyelled and the sheriff and his boy was the only folks in all that towndared to go help him. The two hombres shot the sheriff in the arm beforehe located them and got away. They had finished poor old Dad, though. Mr. Manning's got posses out and will start more at daylight. If you'llput Jane up for the night, Mrs. Flynn, I'll go back to the lower town. You'd ought to see those committeemen. Three of them would have gone outwith a posse, I'll bet, if they hadn't remembered their dignity intime!"

Jim had his hands full. By daylight the next morning there was everyprospect of a wholesale battle between the Americans and the Mexicans. The camp was at fever pitch with excitement. The two shifts not at workswarmed the streets of the lower camp, the Mexicans at the far end, theAmericans at the upper end near Dad Robins' house, whence came the soundof an old woman's hard sobs. After a hurried breakfast at the lowermess, Jim joined this crowd. The men circled round him, all talking atonce. Jim listened for a time, then he raised his arm for silence. "Itwas booze did it! Booze and nothing else! Am I right?"

Reluctant nods went around the crowd. "And yet, " Jim went on, "there'shardly a white man in the camp who hasn't fought me on my ruling thatliquor must not come within the government lines. You all know whatbooze means in a place like this. Those of you who were with me at Makonknow what we suffered from it up there. I know you fellows, decent, kindly men now, in spite of your threats to lynch the hombres. But ifyou could get booze, you'd make this camp a hell on earth right now. Nobetter than a drunken Mexican is a drunken white. Am I right?"

Again reluctant nods and half-sheepish grins. 

"Now, you fellows forget your lynching bee. Commons, Ralston, Schwartz, you make a committee to raise enough money to send Mrs. Robins and theboy back to New Hampshire with the body. Here is ten to start with. Theymust leave this noon. Tom Weeks, you make the funeral arrangements. I'llsee that transportation is ready at noon. Bill Underwood, you get aposse of fifty men and quarantine this camp for booze. "

A little laugh went through the crowd. Billy Underwood had been thechief malcontent under Jim's liquor ruling. Bill did not laugh. He beganto pick his men with the manner of a general. 

"One word more, " said Jim. "You all know that the United StatesReclamation Service is under the suspicion of the nation. They call youand me a bunch of grafters. It's up to you as much as it is to me toshow today that we are men and not lawless hoboes. "

A little murmur of applause swept through the crowd as Jim turned on hisheel. He made his way into the Mexican end of the camp. There was noisehere of talking and quarreling. Jim walked up to a tall Mexican who wasin a way a padrone among the hombres. 

"Garces, " said Jim, "send the night shift to bed. "

Garces eyed Jim through half-shut eyes. Jim did not move a muscle. "Why?" asked the Mexican. 

"Because I shall put them to bed unless they are gone in five minutes. "

Jim pulled out his watch. In just four minutes, after a shouted orderfrom Garces, the street was cleared of more than half the hombres. 

"Now, " said Jim, "except when the shifts change, you are to keep yourpeople this side of the ditch, " pointing to the line that separated theMexican and American camps. "I have fifty men scouring the camp forwhiskey. Anybody found with liquor will be arrested. If there is aparticle of trouble over it in your camp, I'll let the Gringos loose. Sabez?"

Garces shivered a little. "Yes, señor, " he said. 

Jim took a turn up and down the street on his horse, then started forthe dam site. As he cantered up the road, Billy Underwood, mounted on amoth-eaten pony, saluted with dignity. 

"Boss, that saloon keeper up the canyon has got a billion bottles ofbooze. Worst whiskey you ever smelled. He says he's laying for you andif you cross his doorstep, he'll shoot you up. "

Jim looked at Bill meditatively. "Bill, I'm going to call his bluff!"

"Us fellows in my posse'll shoot his place up if you say the word, "cried Bill eagerly. 

"No, that won't do, " replied Jim. "But I have an idea that he's afour-flusher. Keep your eye on 'Mexico City, ' Bill. I am afraid oftrouble, though I've got Garces buffaloed so far. "

Jim turned his horse and cantered back through Mexico City along thenarrow river trail to Cactus Canyon. Just off the government reserve wasa tent with a sheet iron roof. The trail to the tent was well worn. Jimdropped the reins over the pony's head and walked into the tent. Therewas a rough bar across one end, behind which stood a quiet-faced manwith a black mustache. Drinking at the bar were two white men whom Jimrecognized as foremen. 

"You two fellows are fired, " drawled Jim. "Turn in your time and leavecamp this afternoon. "

The Big Boss is king on a project. The two men meekly set down theirglasses and filed out of the tent. It was something to have been firedby the big boss himself. 

"And who are you?" asked the saloonkeeper. 

"Don't you recognize me, Murphy?" asked Jim, pleasantly. "I have theadvantage of you there. My name is Manning. "

The saloonkeeper made a long-armed reach for a gun that stood in thecorner. 

"One moment, please, " said Jim. As he spoke he jumped over the bar, bearing the saloonkeeper down with him before the long-armed reachencompassed the gun. Jim removed Murphy's knife, then picked up the gunhimself. 

Murphy started for the door with a jump. "Break nothing!" he yelled. "I'll have the law of New Mexico on you for this. "

Murphy leaped directly into Bill Underwood's arms. "Hello, sweetie, "said Bill, holding Murphy close. "Thought I'd come up and see how youwas making it, Boss. "

"Nicely, thanks, " said Jim. "I'll be finished as soon as he breaks uphis stock. "

"It'll be some punishment for me to watch a job like that, " said Bill, "but I'm with you, Boss. "

He shifted his gun conspicuously as he released Murphy. Bill owed thesaloonkeeper something over six weeks' pay. The occasion had an unholyjoy for him. Murphy looked Jim over, scratched his head and started towhistle nonchalantly. In ten minutes he had destroyed his stock intrade. When he had finished, he handed Jim the key of the tent with aprofound bow. 

"Now, " said Jim, "drop a match on the floor. "

When the flames were well caught Jim said, "See that he leaves camp, Bill. " Then he mounted and rode away. 

Murphy looked after him curiously. "Some man, ain't he?" he said toBill. 

"I'll eat out of his hand any time, " replied Bill. "Get your pony, Murphy. "

"I'll join your posse, " suggested Murphy. "I bet I can ferret out morebooze than any three of you. "

"Nothing doing!" growled Bill. "Should think you would have better tastethan to wanta do that. "

Murphy shrugged his shoulders. "I want you to let me go up to that Greekfellow's place before I go, " he said. 

Bill stared but made no comment. 

As Jim rode back through the lower town he stopped young Hartman, thegovernment photographer. 

"Hartman, " he asked, "have the films for the movies come in yet?"

"Came in yesterday, Mr. Manning. "

"Good work! Hartman, will you give us a show this evening?"

"The hall's in pretty rough shape but if you want it----"

"I want it to keep things quiet, Hartman, till we find those hombres andget them in jail at Cabillo. "

The young fellow nodded. "I'll have things ready at seven. After thefuneral, I'll get the word out. "

Jim rode on to his neglected work at the office. There he found themembers of the committee awaiting him. Even the chairman was eager toknow details of occurrences since they had gone reluctantly to bed aftermidnight. 

When Jim had finished his story, the Vermont man said pompously: "Youseem to manage men rather well, Mr. Manning. In behalf of my colleaguesI wish to thank you for your hospitality to us. As you know, we mustleave this afternoon. "

Jim nodded. "I shall have my superintendent take you over to the train. You will understand that I do not want to leave the camp myself. "

"I wish we could stay and see the end of this, " said one of the members. "It's like life in a dime novel. "

"My chief regret is that we only had half of the Mask Ball. After this, when my constituents are tempted to give me a dinner, I shall urge aMask Ball instead. Never had one given for me before and no débutanteever had anything on my feelings last night, " said another. 

"Henderson should have been a country squire, " said Jim. "He's a perfecthost. "

The camp was quiet during the afternoon. Jim saw the committee off atfive o'clock, then went up to the tent house. Sara and he glanced ateach other coolly and nodded. Pen started the conversation hurriedly. 

"What word from the two hombres?"

Jim shook his head. "One posse got away last night before I warned them. I'm afraid that if the murderers are brought into camp I can't avert alynching bee. "

Pen shivered. Sara grunted. "You'd think Pen had lived in a convent allof her life instead of a death pen like New York. "

"It's so lonesome out here, human life means more to you, " said Jim. 

"Some philosopher you are, " sneered Sara. "Fine lot of drool you got offat the hearing. Why didn't you keep to the main issue? The yokels arestill saying with the rest of us, He must be dishonest or he'd give anhonest 'No' to our accusations. "

Jim answered slowly: "When a man says that sort of thing to me I usuallyknock him down, or completely ignore him. "

"You can't knock us all down and the time is rapidly coming when we willbe ignoring you, minus a job. "

"Still, " pleaded Pen, "he couldn't understand your speech. Once and forall, Jim, give him and all the rest the lie. "

Jim ground his teeth and did not speak. Sara was obviously enjoyinghimself. 

"You are mistaken, Pen. Jim and I have often discussed the divine originof the New Englander. They are a pathetic lot of pifflers. They have noone to blame but themselves that they are going. Everywhere else theAnglo-Saxon has gone he has insisted that he had the divine right torule and has kept it. Outsiders have had to conform or get out. But overhere he promulgated the Equality idea. Isaac Gezinsky and Hans Hoffmanand Pedro Patello are as fit to rule according to the Equality idea asanyone else. It didn't take much over two hundred years of this tocrowd the New Englander out of the running. And who cares?"

"I do, " said Jim, "because I believe in the things my race has stoodfor. Emerson says it's not chance but race that put and keeps themillions of India under the rule of a remote island in the north ofEurope. Race is a thing to be reckoned with. Nations progress as theirrace dictates. "

"Emerson!" jibed Sara. "Another inefficient highbrow!"

"I can't help believing, " replied Jim doggedly, "that the world willlose in the submerging of the New England element in America. "

"And yet right here, in your America, " said Sara, "the leaders of themoney trust are descendants of Puritans. "

Jim winced. "'The strength of the pack is the wolf, ' When we producedmen of that type we should have recognized them and have controlledthem. They are helping the pack down hill, all right. Be satisfied, Sara! Only you will not get me off this Project until it is finished. "

"No?" sneered Sara. 

Pen interrupted nervously: "A couple of men are coming up the trail. "

Bill Underwood appeared at the tent door. Murphy was with him. "Boss, "said Bill, "Murphy has got to see your Greek friend. I got him startedsouth this noon, but he circled on me and I just picked him up on themesa, headed this way. He wanted to come here on the quiet, but Ibrought him up in the open. "

CHAPTER XX

THE DAY'S WORK

 "Women know a loyalty that men scorn while they use it. This is the sex stamp of women. "

 MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. 

With a quick glance at Sara, Jim rose. "Give Mr. Saradokis and hisfriend a chance to talk, of course, Bill. But shut Murphy up tonight andbring him round to me in the morning. "

Bill essayed a salute that was so curiously like bringing his thumb tohis nose that Pen had to turn a laugh into a cough and Jim smiled as hehurried out of the tent. As soon as the murder trouble was settled, Jimthought, he would have some sort of a settlement with Sara. His calmeffrontery was becoming unbearable. 

After a hurried supper Jim went back to the lower town to keep his eyeon the moving picture show. As he mounted the steps of the little sheetiron building, a girlish figure hurried to meet him from the shadow ofthe ticket office. 

"Pen!" cried Jim. "This is no place for you!"

"Oh, lots of women have gone in, " protested Pen. "Please, Jim! Sara wasso ugly this evening I just walked out and left him alone and I'm crazyto see what goes on down here. "

Jim glanced in at the open door. The hall was nearly full. "If anythinggoes wrong, Penny, I would have my hands full and you might be hurt. "

Pen gave a little shiver of anticipation. "Oh, please let me stay, Still! Just think how shut in I've been all these years. "

Even though his common sense protested, Jim was an easy victim to Pen'spleading eyes and voice. He led the way into the hall. It was anenthusiastic crowd, that crunched peanuts and piñons and commentedaudibly on the pictures. Pictures of city life were the most popular. 

"God! That's Fulton street, Brooklyn!" cried a man's voice as a streetscene glided across the screen. "Wish I'd never left it. "

"Gee! Look at the street car!" called another man. "I'd give a year ofmy life for a trolley ride. "

"Look at them trees!" said someone as a view of a middle west farmfollowed. "Them are trees, boys, not cable way towers! How'd you like toshake the sand out of your eyes and see something green?"

"What are you peeved about?" exclaimed another voice. "Ain't you workingfor our great and glorious government that'll kick you out like a deaddog whenever it wants to? Look what it's doing to the Big Boss!"

"Hi! Man-o'-War at San Diego!" screamed a boy. "See all that wet water!Me for the navy! See how pretty that sailor looks in his cute whitepanties!"

Hartman held the crowd for a good two hours, then he called, "That'sall, boys! Come again!"

"All? Nothing stirring, " answered several voices. "Begin over again, Hartman. You can collect another nickel from us as we go out. "

There was laughter and applause and not a soul offered to leave. In thedarkness Hartman was heard to laugh in return and shortly the first filmappeared again. Fields of corn shimmered in the wind. Cows grazed inquiet meadows. The audience stared again, breathlessly. Suddenly fromwithout was heard a long-drawn cry. It was like the lingering shriek ofa coyote. Few in the hall had heard the call before, yet no one mistookit for anything but human. 

"An Apache yell!" exclaimed an excited voice. 

There was a sudden overturning of benches and Pen and Jim were forcedout into the street with the crowd. 

An arc light glowed in front of the hall. Under this the crowd swayedfor a moment, uncertain whither to move. Jim held Pen's arm and lookedabout quickly. 

"I don't know where you will be safest, Pen. I wish I'd heeded theitching of my thumb and taken you home an hour ago. "

"Jim, " said Pen, "I certainly like your parties. They are full ofsurprises. "

"You are a good little sport, " said Jim, "but that doesn't make me lessworried about you. Hang onto my arm now like a little burr. "

He began to work his way through the crowd. "I don't want to attracttheir attention, " he said. "They will follow me like sheep. "

"Was it an Apache cry, Jim?" asked Pen. 

"Yes! Old Suma-theek, with a bunch of his Indians has been riding theupper mesa for me tonight. Just to watch Mexico City. I told him tokeep things quiet, so there must have been some imperative reason forthe cry. I'll take you to the upper camp and get my horse. "

Jim breathed a sigh of relief as they cleared the crowd and couldquicken their pace. But they were scarcely out of the range of the arclight when a dark group ran hurriedly down from the mesa back of thetown. It was old Suma-theek with four of his Indians. They held, tightlybound with belts and bandanas, two disheveled little hombres. 

"Take 'em to jail, Boss?" panted Suma-theek. "I find 'em trying get backto lower town!"

"No! No! Back up into the mountains. I'll get horses to you and you musttake them to Cabillo. Lord, I forgot to warn you!"

Suma-theek turned quickly but not quickly enough. A man ran up to thelittle group then plunged back toward the hall. 

"A rope!" he yelled. "Bring a rope. They've got the two hombres. "

Men seemed to spring up out of the ground. 

"Run, Pen, toward the upper camp!" cried Jim. 

"I won't!" exclaimed Pen. "They won't shoot while a woman is standinghere. "

She plunged away from Jim and caught Suma-theek's arm. The old Indiansmiled and shoved her behind him. Jim turned and stood shoulder toshoulder with the Apache chief. "Now work back until we're against thepower house with the hombres back of us, " he said. 

By the time the crowd was massed, yelling and gesticulating on threesides of it, the little group was backed up against the concrete wallof the little substation. 

Jim waved his arm. "Go home, boys; go home! You can't do any lynchingwhile the Apaches are here!"

"Give us the hombres, Boss!" shouted a threatening voice, "or we'll haveto be rough on you. "

"Send the lady home, " called someone else. "This is no job for a lady tosee. "

"Boss, " said Suma-theek in Jim's ear, "you send your squaw out. She goup mountain back of town, find Apache there, tell all Apaches bringguns, come here, help take hombres to jail. "

Jim looked at Pen and his face whitened. But Pen's nostrils dilated andher eyes sparkled. Pen was Irish. 

"I'll go, " said Pen. "Where is Henderson?"

"He ought to be back, " said Jim. "Try to find him after you get theApaches. Send anybody down you can reach. " Then he shouted to the crowd, "Let the lady out!"

Jim and Suma-theek stood well above most of the mob. Jim was unarmed andthe crowd knew it. But even had any man there been inclined to preventPen's exit he would rather have done so under a cocked gun than underthe look in Jim's white face as he watched Pen's progress through thecrowd. The men gave back respectfully. As soon as she was free of thecrowd, Pen broke into a run. She darted back behind the line of tents uponto the mountainside. 

There for an instant she paused and looked back. The five Indians wereas motionless as the crouching black heaps they guarded. They held theirguns in the hollow of their arms, while Jim, with raised arm, wasspeaking. Pen sobbed in her excitement. If Uncle Denny could see hisboy!

She turned and ran up the trail like a little rabbit. It seemed to herthat she never would reach the top. The camp sounds were faint and farbefore she reached the upper mesa and saw dimly a figure on a horse. Itwas an Indian who covered her with a gun as she panted up to him. 

"Suma-theek and the Big Boss say for you to call in all the otherIndians and come help them at the little power house. The whites aretrying to lynch the hombres. "

The Indian peered down into her face and grunted as he recognized her. Then he suddenly stood in his stirrups and raised the fearful cry thathad emptied the moving picture hall. 

"Ke-theek! Ke-theek! Ke-theek! (To me! To me! To me!)"

Pen stood by the pony's head, trembling yet exultant. This, then, shethought was the life men knew. No wonder Jim loved his job!

Up on the mesa top, the night wind rushed against the encircling stars. The Indian chuckled. 

"Mexicans, they no bother whites tonight. They know Apache call, it heapdevil. "

The sound of hoofs began to beat in about the waiting two. "You go, "said the Indian. "Back along upper trail, it safe. "

Pen started on a run toward the upper camp. 

The surging crowd round Jim and the Indians heard the wild cry from themesa top and the shouts and threats were stilled as if by magic. Therewas a moment of restless silence. That cry was a primordial thing, aswell understood by every man in the mob as if he had heard it always. Itwas the cry of the hunted and the hunter. It was the night cry offorests. It was war with naked hands, death under lonely skies. 

Jim called: "Some one is bound to get killed if you boys don't clearout. I'm not armed but a number of you are and the Indians are. If thereare any of my Makon boys here, I want them to come over here and helpme. "

"Coming, Boss!" called a voice. "Only a few of the best of us here. "

"You'll stay where you are, " roared a big Irishman. 

"Rush 'em, boys! Rush 'em! They don't dare to shoot!"

Old Suma-theek absent-mindedly sighted his gun in the direction of thelast remark. 

"Get a ladder! Get on top of the station. Altogether, boys!"

Fighting through the mob, half a dozen men suddenly ranged themselveswith the Indians. 

"Come into us!" one of them shrieked. "I ain't had a fight since Ikilled six Irishmen on the Makon and ate 'em for breakfast. "

There was a swaying, a sudden closing of the crowd, when down from themesa rushed old Suma-theek's bucks. They swept the mob aside like flyingsand and closed about the little group against the wall. They were avery splendid picture in the arc light, these forty young bucks withtheir flying hair and plunging ponies. The moment must have been one ofunmixed joy to them as the whites gave back, leaving them the streetwidth. 

Jack Henderson rushed up in Jim's automobile just as the street cleared. Jim hurried to the machine. "Jack, did you see Mrs. Saradokis?"

"Took her home in the machine. Had to argue with her to make her go. That's why I'm late. Just got back from delivering the committee. "

The color came back under Jim's tan. "Get up to the wall there, Jack, with the machine and put the two hombres into the tonneau with twoIndians and Suma-theek in front. The mounted Indians will act as yourguard for a few miles out. Hit the high places to Cabillo. I guess you'dbetter keep the guard all the way. I wouldn't like you to meet a possewithout one. "

Jack nodded and began to work his way among the ponies. In a moment'stime the touring car, with the cowering human bundles in the tonneau, had crossed the river. The crowd disappeared rather precipitately intothe tents, no one courting conversation with Jim. He walked quietly upthe road home. 

Early the next morning, Billy Underwood brought Murphy up to Jim'shouse. 

"Sorry my posse didn't get there in time to help you out, Boss, " saidBill regretfully. "We didn't hear of it till it was all over. "

Jim nodded. "Keep up your quarantine for a while, Bill. We won't riskbooze for several days. Now, Murphy, who backed you in the saloonbusiness?"

"Fleckenstein's crowd. "

"How long have you known Mr. Saradokis?"

"Met him for the first time last night, " replied the ex-saloonkeeper. 

Jim eyed the man skeptically and Murphy spoke with sudden heat. "That'son the level. I heard he was backing Fleckenstein and so I thought he'dhelp me get back at you. But he cursed me as I'll stand from no manbecause Underwood made a monkey of me by lugging me up there before you. No wonder his wife left the tent before he began, if that's his usualstyle. I'll get even with that dirty Greek. "

Bill nodded. "Boss, that friend of yours has a vocabulary that'd turn amule into a race horse. "

"Murphy, " said Jim, "you are Irish. My stepfather is an Irishman. He isthe whitest gentleman that ever lived. It's hard for me to realize afterknowing him that an Irishman can be doing the dirty work you are. But Isuppose Ireland must breed men like you or Tammany would die. "

Murphy hitched from one foot to the other. Jim went on in his quiet, slow way. 

"I suppose you know pretty well what I'm up against on this Project. What would you do with Murphy if you were Manning?"

"I'd beat three pounds of dog meat off his face, " replied Murphy, succinctly. 

Jim shrugged his shoulders. "That would do neither of us any good. If Ilet you go, Murphy, will you give me your word of honor to let theProject absolutely alone?"

The Irishman gave Jim a quick look. "And would you take my word?"

"Not as a saloonkeeper, but as Irish, I would. "

Murphy drew a long breath. "Thank you, Mr. Manning. I'll get off theProject if you say so. But I think you'd be wiser to give me a job belowon the diversion dam where I can keep track of Fleckenstein and hiscrowd for you. I'll show you what it means to trust an Irishman, sir. "

Jim suddenly flashed his wistful smile. "I knew you had the makings of afriend in you as soon as I saw how you took the cleaning up I gave youyesterday. I'll give you a note to my irrigation engineer. He needs agood man. "

Bill and Murphy went out the door together. "I'll bet you the drinks, Bill, " said Murphy, "that he never made you his friend. "

"I ain't drinking. I'm his trusted officer, " said Bill. "Get me? If youtry any tricks on him----"

Bill stopped abruptly, for Murphy's fist was under his nose. "Did youhear him take my word like a gentleman?" he shouted. "I'd rather be deadthan double cross him!"

"Aw, go on down to the diversion dam, " said Bill, irritably. "I've gotno time to listen to your talk. You heard him tell me to guard theplace!"

A part of Jim's day's work, after his letters were answered and writtenin the morning, was to tramp over every portion of the job. The quarry, in the mountain to the north of the dam whence were being taken thegiant rock for embedding in the concrete was his first care. The stonemust be of the right quality and of proper weight and contour to bindwell with the cement. The quarrying itself must be going forward rapidlyand without waste. Then came the giant sand dump, where the dinkies hadfilled a canyon with the sand from the river bed. This was the supplythat fed the always hungry mixer. After this the warehouse and the powerhouse, the laboratories and the concrete mixer, the cableway towers andthe superintendent's office, with all the thousand and one details, expected and unexpected, that made or marred the success of the dam, must be looked over. The last visit was always at the dam itself, whereJim spent most of the day. 

On the afternoon after Jim had hired Murphy he stood on the section ofthe dam which now showed no signs of old Jezebel's strenuous visit. Jimwas watching the job with his outer mind, while with his inner mind heturned over and over the things that Pen had said to him the nightbefore the mask ball. Even in the excitement that followed the ball, Pen's scolding, as he called it, had never been entirely out of histhoughts. In spite of their sting, Jim realized that Pen's words hadcleared his vision, had given him a sense of content that was comparableonly to the feeling he had had on the night so many years ago that hehad discovered his profession. 

To find that the cause of his failure lay in himself and not inintangible forces without that he could not combat was strangely enougha very real relief. For Jim was taking Pen's review of his weaknesses asessential truth!

Suddenly, with his eyes fastened critically on a great stone block thatwas being carefully bedded on the section, he laughed aloud andwhispered to himself:

"I feel just the way I used to when I got mad because I couldn't getcompound interest and Dad straightened me out, giving me a good callingdown as he did so. Pen! Pen! My dearest!"

Oscar Ames, picking his way carefully among the derricks and stoneblocks, grunted when he saw the smile on Jim's face. Jim did not ceaseto smile when he saw Oscar. 

"Come up here, Ames! I want your advice!"

Oscar grunted again, but this time as if someone had knocked his breathout of him. He paused, then came on up to where Jim was standing. Menwere busy preparing the surface on which they stood for the nextpouring. In the excavation below, the channeling machine was gouging outa trench for the heel of the dam. Pumps were working steadily, drawingseepage water from the excavation. Men swarmed everywhere, on derricks, on engines, with guide ropes for cableway loads, scouring and chippingrock and concrete surfaces, ramming and bolting forms into place, shifting motors, always hurrying yet always giving a sense of directionand purpose. 

"She's coming along, Oscar, " said Jim. 

Oscar nodded. Something in Jim's tone made his own less pugnacious thanusual as he said:

"What you using sand-cement for instead of the real stuff?"

"It's stronger, " said Jim. "A very remarkable thing! We've been testingthat out five or six years. "

Jim's tone was very amiable. Oscar looked at him suspiciously and Jimlaughed. "Thought we were working some kind of a cement graft?" Jimasked. 

"Well, that's the common report!"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Oscar!" exclaimed Jim disgustedly. 

"Well, now, " said Ames doggedly, "just why should sand-cement bestronger than the pure Portland?"

Jim scowled, started to speak with his old impatience, then changed hismind. 

"You come up to the laboratory with me, Oscar. I'll give you a lesson oncement that will put a stop to this gossip at once. A man of yourexperience ought to know better. "

Conflicting emotions showed in Oscar's face, boyish despite his fiftyyears. This was the first time Jim had used the man to man tone withAmes. He cleared his throat and followed the Big Boss up the trail tothe little adobe laboratory. The young cement engineer looked curiouslyat Jim's companion. 

"Mr. Field, " said Jim, "this is Mr. Ames. He is one of the mostinfluential men in the valley. He is giving practically all of his timeto watching our work up here. He tells me the farmers feel thatsand-cement isn't good. We will put in an hour showing Mr. Ames ourtests and their results for the last five years, both here and on theMakon. "

Field did not show his surprise at Jim's about-face. But he did say tohimself as he went into the back room for his old reports, "Evidentlythe farmer is no longer to be told to go to Hades when he kicks. Iwonder what's happened. "

An hour later Jim and Oscar walked slowly up the trail toward Jim'shouse. Jim had invited Ames up for a further talk. Oscar had shown aremarkable aptitude for the details that Jim and Field had explained. And his pleasure at finally understanding the whole idea upon which Jimwas basing his concrete work was such that Jim felt a very real remorse. He recalled almost daily questions from Oscar and other farmers that hehad answered with a shortness that was often contemptuous. 

"Now you see, " Oscar said as they entered the cottage, "we'll actuallysave money on that. Wonderful thing, Mr. Manning, how mixing the sandand cement intimately enough, as you say, turns the trick. I'll tell thebunch down at Cabillo about that tomorrow. "

Jim shoved a box of cigars at Oscar and surveyed him with his wistfulsmile. There were dark circles round Jim's eyes that in his childhoodhad told of nerve strain. Jim at that moment wondered what Iron Skullwould have made of the present situation. He was silent so long thatOscar spoke a little impatiently:

"If you ain't going to talk, Mr. Manning, Jane is waiting for me and Igot to see Mr. Sardox yet. "

Jim pulled himself together, and, a little diffidently, handed Ames theSecretary's letter with the copy of his own. 

"Tell me what you think of these, " said Jim. 

Oscar read the two letters carefully, then said: "I'd think more of 'emif I had any idea what either of you was driving at. "

"It means just this, " said Jim, "that unless the engineers and thefarmers work together, the Reclamation Service will get what the waterpower trust is trying to give it, and that is, oblivion. "

"Aha, " said Oscar, "that's why you've been so decent to me today?"

"Yes, " replied Jim simply. 

Oscar's look of suspicion returned. Jim went on slowly and carefully. "It will be bad business if the Service fails. It will retard thegovernment control of water power greatly, and there is enough possiblewater power in this country, Oscar, to turn every wheel in it and toheat and light every home in the land. If the Service fails it willshow just one thing; that the farmers and engineers on the Projects aretoo selfish to get together for the country's good, that the farmer is astupid cat's paw for the money interests and the engineer a spinelessfool who won't fight. "

"Look here, Manning, " cried Oscar, "don't you think I'm justified inthinking about nothing but my own ranch, considering what it's cost me?"

"Don't you think, " Jim returned, "that I'm justified in thinking aboutnothing but my dam and in letting the water power trust eat it and youup, considering how hard I work on the building itself?"

Oscar stared and chewed his cigar and Jim smoked in silence for amoment. 

"Ames, " he said finally, "I wonder if you will get this idea as quicklyas you did the sand-cement one. America isn't like England or Germany orFrance. Over there the citizens of each country are practically of onerace. Fundamentally, they think about the same way and want the samethings. If one man or many neglect public duties it makes no permanentdifference. Someone else will take up the duty some time, and in justabout the same way that the negligent man would have done. But inAmerica we have become a hodge-podge of every race. We have no nationalideals. You can't tell me now of a single national ideal you and I areworking for or even thinking about. You can't tell me what an Americanis, or I you. Get me?"

Oscar nodded, his tanned face keen with interest. 

"Now the time has come when if you or I want any particular one of theold New England ideals to live in this country we have got to fight forit, start an educational campaign for it. If we don't, the Russian Jewsor the Italians or the Syrians will change things to suit their ownideals. Now they may be all right. Their ideals may be as good as mine. They have every right to be here and to rule if they can. But I don'tlike the kind of government they stood for in their native countries. 

"I'm a pig-headed Anglo-Saxon, full of an egotism that dies hard. Ibelieve that the Reclamation Service idea is an outgrowth of the finedemocracy that our fathers brought to New England. I believe that thefolks that are going to inherit America can't afford to lose the idea ofthe Service and I'm going to fight for it now till they get me. Am Iclear?"

"Sure, " said Oscar. "Ain't I of Puritan stock myself?"

"That's why I'm talking to you, " said Jim. "Now I take the central ideaof the United States Reclamation Service to be this. It is a return tothe old principle of the people governing themselves directly, of theirassuming individual responsibility for the details and cost ofgoverning. It is the fine outgrowth of the industrial lessons we havelearned in the past years, combined with the town meeting idea, broughtup to date. 

"One central organization can do work better and cheaper, if it will, than a dozen competing interests. If the central organization isprivately owned it demands a heavy profit. But if it is owned by thegovernment it takes no profit. On a Project, free individualsvoluntarily combine to do business and to directly administer theproducts of that business to themselves. The Service is merely the toolof the people on the Projects. 

"Oscar, it's up to you and me. In antagonizing you farmers, I've openedthe way for the enemies of the Service to reach you. And you, in beingreached, are endangering the Service. Is it true that you are going tohelp Saradokis and Fleckenstein get your honest debts repudiated?"

The two men sat and stared at each other, Oscar with his years ofunutterable labor behind him, his traditions that dealt with a constanthand-to-hand struggle with nature for his own existence; Jim with hislong years of dreaming behind him and his awakening vision of socialresponsibility before him. Engineer and desert farmer, they were ofwidely differing characteristics, yet they had one fundamental qualityin common. They both were producers. They were not little men. There wasnothing parasitic in their outlook. They had always dealt withfundamental, primitive forces. 

Suddenly Oscar leaned forward. "Are you trying to string me into sayingthe increased cost of the dam is all right?"

Jim tapped on the table. "Not five per cent of the increased cost butcomes from the improvements you farmers have asked for. And not one centof the cost of the entire Project but will be paid for by the waterpower produced and sold. You know that, Ames. Now pay attention. "

Jim shook his finger in Oscar's face and said slowly and incisively:

"You farmers will never repudiate your honorable debts while I canfight. You are going to fight with me, Ames, to help me save theService. You are going to put your shoulder to mine and fight as you didwhen the old dam was going out under your feet! Do you get that?"

Oscar opened his mouth but no words came. Then both men jumped to theirfeet as Mrs. Ames' gentle voice said from the kitchen door:

"Oscar will fight, or I'll leave him. "

CHAPTER XXI

JIM GETS A BLOW

 "The eagle has lived long in my side. He is cruel with talons built for seizing. Is this why so many nations choose him as their emblem?"

 MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. 

Jane never had looked meeker or smaller or more desert worn than she didas she stood eying the two men; that is, meek except as to her eyes. These burned like sapphires in the sun. In them was concentrated thedeathless energy that Penelope had found was Jane's chiefcharacteristic. 

"I've been sitting in the kitchen waiting for Mrs. Flynn and listeningto you two talk. It was very interesting. "

"Jane, you keep quiet, " said Oscar. 

"Come in and sit down, Mrs. Ames, " said Jim, pulling forward a chair. 

"Don't be too polite to me, Mr. Manning, " said Jane. "I ain't used to itand it makes me nervous. I made up my mind while I heard you talk I'dget a few things off my chest. It may help both of you. I've often said, when Oscar was always telling me to keep quiet, that when I hadsomething to say I'd say it. "

Oscar looked very much mortified. "Jane, " he said, "what's got intoyou?"

"Well, it isn't your politeness, that's sure. Funny now, that Mrs. Penelope and I both have nice manners while her husband and mine areboth pigs as far as their ways to us go. There isn't a more popular manin the country than Oscar, but he keeps his popular ways all outside hisown home. "

Oscar and Jim looked at each other and waited. They both realized thatthe eruption was inevitable. 

"Women are awful fools. Until I had running water put in against Oscar'swishes I lugged as many as thirty buckets of water a day for thirtyyears. I've carried water and I've chopped wood and I've had babies andI've come at your bidding, Oscar, but now, I'm going to complain. Andit's not about my life either. 

"I used to feel sorry for myself until I got to know Mrs. Pen. She has_real_ trouble, but instead of getting peevish as I have over justOscar's selfishness, she's let it make her see the world instead ofherself. She has a sort of calm outlook on life. She has told me a dozentimes that she looks at life as a great game and trouble as one of thehazards. That's golf talk. She says the only real sport to be got out ofthe game is to play it according to rule. And she says marriage seems tobe one of the rules. Think of having the courage to talk that way aboutmarriage! She's better than a book. "

Mrs. Ames chuckled reminiscently. Then stared out at the desert and herlips moved in silence as if she found it hard to frame her nextsentence. 

"We've talked a lot about the Project, she and I. At first I was likeOscar, all for being afraid our ranch wasn't going to get as much and alittle more than anyone else's. Then after she kept talking about it, all of a sudden I saw that I wasn't Jane Ames at all, drudging out mylife in the sand. I'm a human being, struggling along with other humanbeings to make a living and _be happy_. And then I got the feeling thatI wanted to help to make this whole Project the finest place on earthnot only for myself but for everyone else. 

"And then, just as I get started on something that's giving me my firstchance since I was married to mix with people and do some real big workin the world, I find out that Oscar is getting all mixed up in dealsthat'll ruin Mr. Manning and the whole Project as far as our owning itgoes. "

"Jane!" shouted Oscar. 

"Yes, Jane!" replied Mrs. Ames. "If you think I'm going to stand thatkind of disgrace, if you think I'm going to keep quiet while my babies'father is a cat's paw for fellows like that Greek and Freet, you aremistaken. And I'm not going to shilly-shally about it. Oscar, you aregoing to begin right now fighting with Mr. Manning for the Project orI'll leave you. "

Oscar jumped to his feet. "For the Lord's sake, Jane, don't talk thatway! How did I know how you felt? You never talk to me. ". Ames forgotJim. He laid a knotted hand on Jane's shoulder. "Why, Jane, I've oftenthought if anything happened to you, I'd kill myself. I didn't have timeto run in and tell you that every fifteen minutes. But I'll do it, now, by heck, if you want me to! You don't understand about me and Mr. Sardox, though. "

Jane's burning eyes did not leave Oscar's face. "Oscar, you choose rightnow between the Freet crowd, and Mr. Manning and me. "

There was that in Jane's eyes which caused Oscar to pale under his tan. "All right, Jane! All right! When you put it that way there is just onething for me to do. I'll quit them. "

Jane suddenly turned, and bowing her head against Oscar's arm she beganto sob. "It would have torn my heart strings out to have left you, Oscar. "

Jim watched the two with eyes that saw none too clearly. 

Oscar smoothed Jane's hair and shook his head. "No use to tell a woman asecret. Jane, you went and told Mrs. Penelope about Freet, didn't you?"

Mrs. Ames wiped her eyes. "You told her yourself. You talked to thewrong flower girl at the ball. She came to me about it the first thingwhen she saw me today. "

"Shucks!" said Oscar. 

"How did you get in touch with Freet, Oscar?" asked Jim. 

"Aw, I'll help you, Mr. Manning, but I won't tell you other people'sbusiness. "

"All right, Oscar. It may interest you to know that I had received anote this morning from Freet saying he was coming down here to see me onbusiness. "

Oscar flushed. "Come on, Jane, let's be going. I'm much obliged to youfor the cement talk. Why didn't you help me that way before, Mr. Manning?"

Jim laughed. "I didn't know enough to, Oscar. To tell the truth, a ladyhas been after me, too!"

"Mrs. Pen!" exclaimed Jane. 

Jim nodded comically and Oscar with a sudden roar of laughter shookhands with Jim. "And women think they need the vote!" he said, leadingJane out the door. 

That evening just as Jim was finishing his supper Pen walked into theliving room. "Jim, " she said, "did you know that Mr. Freet was coming?"

Jim pulled out a chair for Pen but she shook her head. "Yes, I had aletter from him. He wants to see my sand-cement work and one or twoother new stunts I'm trying out. "

Pen moistened her lips. "Jim, he's up at our tent now, talking withSara. They say nothing before me, but--Still, I'm going to take Saraback to New York at once. "

"We'll see what I can do first, " said Jim. "I'll go up there now. " Hepicked up his hat, then paused. "Pen, I haven't told you how much yourtalk the other night has done for me, or how--how I thank you forstaying on here to help me after--after Wind Ridge. It is--I----"

"Jane told me about your talk with Oscar this afternoon. O Still, I'm soproud and so glad!"

Jim looked at Pen's glowing cheeks and at her parted scarlet lips. "Pen, " he said suddenly, "I'm going to have Henderson give more maskballs. You are years younger since having a good dance, and it looks asif a dance will be the only chance I'll ever have to hug you for all thedear things you do for me!"

Then he fled out the door before Pen could answer. He walked in at theopen door of the tent. 

"Good evening, Mr. Freet, " he said. 

Arthur Freet rose nonchalantly. "Hello, Manning! Pleasure before duty. Ihad to get Saradokis' report on my New York deals before I came to seeyou. "

"Oh, come across, Mr. Freet!" said Jim quietly. "I know about what youwant and you'll have to approach me sooner or later, so let's get donewith it. "

Freet smiled broadly. "I always knew you'd come to your senses, Manning, if we gave you time. Well, our friend Saradokis is in touch with the NewYork office of the Transcontinental Water Power Company. They have avery tempting proposition to make to the farmers. They stand ready tooutbid any competitor for the power you will develop on the Project. "

"We'll let 'em bid, sure, " replied Jim calmly. "I shall advertise forbids as soon as I am ready. "

"That won't do, " said Freet. "The only way to get away with this is todo it quietly. Hold the public off till the contract is signed. "

Jim grunted. Sara eyed him without comment. Oscar spoke suddenly. "Nowlook here, Mr. Manning, I ain't as sore at you as I was. I guess, afterour talk this afternoon, you think you're doing what's best for thevalley. But you want to be fair about this. It may not look quite right, but it's the best thing for the farmers. We want to get all the money wecan out of the power. You say yourself that's what will pay for the dam. And if these folks will give us twice what anyone else will, I say closethe deal with them, any way you can. "

"What's _your_ price, Ames?" asked Jim clearly. 

Oscar jumped to his feet. "In the old days, " he roared, "no man wouldhave lived to ask me that twice!"

Jim looked for a long moment into Oscar's eyes, then he drawled: "Allright, Oscar, I apologize. Only you'd better leave national politics toyour inferiors after this. What's _your_ price, Mr. Freet?"

Arthur Freet laughed. "You can't get a rise out of me, Jim! My price isto see these Projects a financial success. Methods don't bother me, norhard names. "

Jim sat silent for a moment, then he turned suddenly on Sara. "Ofcourse, you get a chunk of money, Sara. But there is something more init than that for you. What are you trying to ruin me for, Sara?"

Again Sara seemed to see scarlet. "Didn't you spoil Pen's----"

"Keep that name out of this!" shouted Jim. 

"Then don't ask me again why I hate you, " returned Sara. "I told youonce. But you are too superior, too one-sided, too egotistical, to seeanyone but yourself!" He rose on one elbow. 

"You were the closest friend I ever had and you turned me down without achance to make myself right. You never sent me word in my living death. Do you suppose I enjoy this mental hell I live in? Did you ever dreamyou were nailed fast in your coffin? That's my life waking and sleeping. Why shouldn't I curse a God who could serve me such a trick? I wouldmake every living thing a cripple, if I could, and I'd begin on you, you! I'll get you yet!"

Jim glanced at Oscar. The big desert farmer was staring at Sara, horrorin every line of his face. 

"Oh, come!" said Freet, "I didn't know you had anything personal inthis, Mr. Saradokis. Manning and I are engineers, out for the good ofthe Projects. "

"Whatever your motives are, Mr. Freet, " said Jim, "I don't like yourmethods and haven't since the Makon days. The water power will be openedto public bids and if you try to force me I'll tell what I guess. "

Freet laughed. "Don't be too sure of yourself, Jim! You are branded asmy pupil. If I go, you will probably go. "

"O hell!" said Jim, starting for the door. "I'd rather go if I've got tospend my life fighting fellows like you. In this instance, though, I'mboss. I have the sale of the water power in my control. "

"Don't be too sure, Jim, " said Freet, still smiling. 

Oscar followed Jim from the tent. Neither of them spoke while on the wayto Jim's house where Pen and Jane were sitting with Mrs. Flynn. But inthe kitchen Oscar made Jim wait while he told the three women what hadoccurred in the tent house. 

"Now all of you witness, " he said, "that I'm through with that bunch. They played me for a sucker to influence the farmers against Mr. Manningand for the trust. When I think of the many different kinds of a fool Iam I wish some good trained mule would come along and kick me. "

"That's all right, Oscar, " said Jim, "you've been no bigger fool than Ihave. We'll get busy now, won't we?"

Oscar flushed as Jim smiled at him. "Darn it, Mr. Manning, " he said, "why haven't you looked at me that way before?" Then he laughed with theothers. 

Then Pen spoke very uncertainly: "This settles it, of course. I shall goback to New York at once with Sara. "

The little group in the kitchen looked at Jim. His face was white andset. 

"Wait a day or so, Pen. I must get some sort of a plan formulated. "

"What am I to do with that man Freet hanging round?" asked Pen. 

"Come down for a day or so with me, Mrs. Pen, " said Mrs. Ames. 

"That's a good idea, " said Jim. "Freet won't stay after tomorrow, anyway. I can promise you that. "

"And I'll look out for the caged hyena, " said Mrs. Flynn. "If God letsme live to spare my life, he'll get a tongue lashing from me that'llgive him new respect for the Irish. "

Once more the group in the kitchen laughed, though tensely, and partedfor the night. 

The next day Freet put in on the dam with Jim. Jim treated him withcourtesy, showing him everything that he asked to see. Freet was verycomplimentary and told Jim he was a credit to his teacher. After a visitto the quarry Jim said suggestively:

"You will want to take the six o'clock train, tonight, of course. "

Freet hesitated. Jim went on dryly. "Under the circumstances, it ishardly in good taste for you to remain. It might look as if you and Iwere having a gentleman's agreement on the price of dams. "

Freet laughed. "I had planned to take the six o'clock train. I quitefinished my business with Saradokis last night. He's a brilliantbusiness man. Too bad he has that silly whim about you. "

Jim did not answer. He called to Henderson and asked him to have theautomobile sent to the quarter house. He himself took Freet to thetrain. They talked construction work all the way and parted amiably. Then Jim returned to his belated office work. 

The last letter that he opened was from the Director of the Service. Itexplained to Jim that while the Director had complete faith in Jim'sengineering ability and integrity, Jim's unpopularity not only with thepublic but with the investigating committee made his resignation seemexpedient for the good of the Service. It was with extreme regret andwith full appreciation of what Jim had done for the Service that theDirector asked for Jim's resignation, three months from date. 

Jim folded the letter and put it in his pocket. Then he stared out ofthe door at the Elephant. The great beast was silent in the after-glow. A to-hee cheeped sleepily in a nearby cholla:

 "O yahee! O yahai! Sweet as arrow weed in spring!"

Then Jim went slowly up the trail to his house, and, refusing hissupper, went into his room and closed the door. 

CHAPTER XXII

JIM PLANS A LAST FIGHT

 "The coyotes are going leaving behind them bleaching bones. The Indians are going leaving a few arrow heads and water vessels. What will the whites leave?"

 MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. 

Jim was angry. All night he lay staring into the dark with his wrathaccumulating until it finally focused itself, not on the Director or onSara or on the farmers, but on himself! He reviewed the yearsmercilessly. He saw how he had refused again and again to shoulder theresponsibilities that belonged to him--belonged, because of his fitnessto carry them. Charlie Tuck and Iron Skull both had done what they couldto make him see, but wrapped in his futile dreams he had refused tolook, and, he told himself, long before he had left Exham, his fatherhad tried to set him on the right path but he always had put off thequest on which his father had sent him, always thrust it over intotomorrow when today was waiting for his start. 

The very peak of his anger was reached when it suddenly came home to Jimthat he had failed his father, had proved renegade to old Exham. 

Three months! A cool dismissal after over eight years of his heart'sblood had been given to the Service! Jim groaned, then sat erect. 

"Serves you right, you dreaming fool! Nobody to blame but yourself!Three months! And in that time the farmers will elect Fleckenstein toCongress and the open fight for repudiation will be on!"

Jim groaned again. Then abruptly he jumped out of bed, turned on thelight, and looked at the little picture of Pen on the wall. 

"Pen, " he said, "Fleckenstein shan't be elected! I'm going out of thisProject, fighting like a hound. I've been a quitter all my life, I'lladmit, but I'm going to put up my fists at the end. I'll rush the workhere and I'll keep Fleckenstein out of Congress. I'll spend no timebelly-aching but I'll stand up to this like a man. Honestly, I will, Penelope. "

Dawn was coming in at the window. Jim filled the bathtub and took a coldplunge. The sun was just rimming the mountains when he began to tune uphis automobile. He filled the tank with gasoline and cranked the engineand was starting out the door when old Suma-theek appeared. Jim stopped. 

"Where you go, Boss?" asked the Indian. 

A sudden desire to talk to Iron Skull's old friend made Jim say, "Get inand ride to the bridge with me, Suma-theek. "

The chief clambered into the seat by Jim. "Suma-theek, the Big Boss atWashington has given me three months before I must leave the dam. "

"Why?" asked Suma-theek. 

"Because I darn well deserve it. I've got everybody here sore at me. Everybody on this Project hates me, so he's afraid it will hurt all thedams the Big Sheriff at Washington wants to build for all the whites. "

"He's a heap fool, that Big Boss at Washington. All the people that knowyou love you in their hearts. It hurt your heart because you have leavedam?"

Jim nodded. The old Indian eyed him keenly. Then his lean, bronze faceturned sad. "Why you suppose Great Spirit no care how much heart aches?Why you suppose he let that little To-hee bird all time sing love toyou, then no let you have your love? Maybe, Boss Still, all those thingsyou believe, all those things you work for, Great Spirit think no use. Huh?"

"The Great Spirit didn't explain anything to us, Suma-theek, but he gaveus our dreams. I want to fix my tribe's dream so firmly it can never beforgotten. As for my own little dream of love, what does it matter?"

Suma-theek responded to Jim's wistful smile with an old man's smile oflost illusions. "Dreams are always before or behind. They are neverhere. You are young. Yours are before. Suma-theek is old. His arebehind. Boss Still, you no sabez one thing. All great dreams of anytribe they built by man for love of woman. "

Jim stared for a moment at the purple shadow of the Elephant. Then hestopped the machine at the bridge to let Suma-theek out. In a moment themachine was climbing the mesa on the road to Cabillo. 

Jim always thrilled to his first view of Cabillo as he swung down intothe valley. It is a little town lying on a desert plain three thousandfeet above the sea. Flood or drought or utter loneliness had notprevailed to keep men from settling there. It is set in the vivid greenof alfalfa field, of vineyards, and of orchards. Around about the town, the desert lies, rich, yellow, and to the east rise mountains that standlike deep purple organ pipes against the blue desert sky. It seemed toJim this morning that the pipes had forever murmured with the wordlessbrooding music of the desert winds. That age after age they had beenuttering vast harmonies too deep for human ears to hear, uttering themto countless generations of men who had come and gone like the desertsand. 

In Cabillo Jim went, after a hasty breakfast, to see John Haskins. Haskins was a banker and a Harvard man who had come to Cabillo thirtyyears before with bad lungs. He was, Jim thought, an impartial, thoughkeen, observer of events in the valley. He was in the banker's officebut a few minutes. 

"Mr. Haskins, " he said, "do you consider fifty dollars an acre too heavya debt for the farmers to carry on their farms?"

"Not for the experienced irrigation farmer, " replied Haskins. 

Jim paused thoughtfully. "Experienced! And not twenty per cent. Of themwill be experienced. " He made an entry in his notebook, then asked, "Isten years too short a time to give the farmers to pay for the dam?"

"Not with wise cropping. "

"Is it possible to find sufficient water power market to practically payfor the dam, without reference to the crops?" Jim went on. 

"Yes, " answered Haskins. 

"If a group of farmers and business men will assume a debt, voluntarily, then repudiate it, are they sufficiently responsiblepersons to assume for all time the handling of the irrigation system andwater power the government is developing for them?" Jim's voice was slowand biting. 

Haskins answered clearly, "No!"

Jim's last question made Haskins smile. "Is this an intelligent group ofmen, these farmers and business men?"

"Unusually so, especially the men who have been long in the desert andhave struggled with its vicissitudes. Some of the Mexican farmers aredifficult to handle, though, because they don't understand what thegovernment is trying to do. For heaven's sake, Manning, why thiscatechism?"

Jim laughed. "Oh, I want your opinion to quote. I'm about to put up afight against Fleckenstein. "

"But that will be hardly proper, will it, considering your job? Not butwhat I think Fleckenstein ought to be fought!"

"Oh, I'm not going on the stump. I'm merely going to fight him byattending to certain portions of my job that I've always neglected. "

Jim rose and Haskins shook his head ruefully. "More power to your elbow, old man. But nothing can beat Fleckenstein now, I'm afraid. "

"I'm going to mighty well try it, " said Jim as he hurried out the door. 

His next visit was along the irrigation canal to a point where hisirrigation engineer was watching the work on a small power station. 

"Hello, Marlow, how is Murphy doing?"

Marlow laughed. "I made him timekeeper. He's assumed the duties ofpoliceman, ward boss and of advertising agent for you. "

"Where is he?" asked Jim. 

"Coming right along the road there now. "

Jim started the machine on to meet the stocky figure that Marlow pointedout. 

Murphy grinned broadly as Jim invited him into the machine. "I want totalk to you, Murphy? How does the job go?"

"Aw, it's no job! It's a joy ride. I thought I knew every farmer in thecounty but I didn't. A new one turns up every day to tell the LittleBoss how to irrigate. "

"Murphy, " said Jim, "how do you size up Fleckenstein?"

Murphy looked at Jim curiously. "Just like everyone else does, as acrook. "

"How much pull has he with the farmers?"

Murphy shrugged his shoulders. "How much pull would the devil himselfhave if he promised repudiation? Tell me that, Boss!"

"Is the chap who is running against him any good?"

"Who, Ives? Is a bag of jelly an implement of war? What have you got onyour mind, Boss?"

"Well, to tell the truth, Murphy, I've just come to! The election isjust three months off, isn't it? I am going to try to lick Fleckensteinin that time. "

"Can't be done, Boss, unless you'll take the stump yourself. "

"Of course, that's out of the question, " replied Jim. "But this is whatI'm going to do. I'm going to see every farmer in the valley and have agood talk with him. I'm going to make him see this Project as I do. AndI'm going to send for half a dozen of the best men in the Department ofAgriculture to come out here and get the newcomers interested inscientific farming. I'm not going to mention Fleckenstein's name. "

Murphy looked at Jim, then out at the irrigating ditch along which themachine was moving slowly. "Boss, " he said, "go ahead if it'll ease youup any, but you might as well try to fight a hydrophobia skunk with aperfume atomizer as to try them high-brow methods on Fleckenstein. "

Jim laughed. "Well, do you know of a better method, Murphy?"

"Yes, the good, old-fashioned way of putting up more whisky, more moneyand more free rides than the other fellow does. "

Jim turned the machine back toward the power station. "Of course, youknow that that is out of the question, Murphy. "

"Well, what do you want me to do, Boss?" asked Murphy. 

"Tomorrow is Sunday, " said Jim. "I want you to come up to my house anddiscuss with me the characteristics of every man in the valley. I don'tknow anyone better qualified to know them. "

"I'll be there, " said Murphy, climbing from the machine. He watched Jimdrive away. "There's something about him that gets under my skin, " saidthe ex-saloonkeeper. "I'll be holding his hand, next. Poor snoozer!Think of him trying to fight mud like Fleckenstein. But I'll back him ifit'll relieve his mind any. "

Jim was back at the dam by mid-afternoon. He found Pen with Mrs. Flynnin the shining little kitchen of his adobe. 

"Penelope, " he said, "is there any way we can rob Sara of his poisonfangs? Certainly sending him away will do little good. I have beenthinking of giving him his choice of being under espionage or of beingturned over to the government. I've played with him, Pen, a little toolong. Now that it's too late, I'm going to lock the door. "

Mrs. Flynn looked frightened. She never had seen this expression onJim's face before. The scowl between his eyes was deep, his jaw wastense and his eyes were too large and too bright. But Pen's face flushedeagerly. 

"You are angry at last, Jimmy! Thank heaven for that! We can watch Sara, easily, if you will use your authority. And oh, I do so want to stay andhelp! Your temper is touched at last, Jim. I am thankful to Freet forthat. "

Jim nodded grimly. "Will you go over to the tent with me? Or had Ibetter have it out with Sara alone?"

"Neither, " said Pen. "I'll settle him myself. I feel like having a scrapwith someone. What else are you going to do, Still? Shall you reportFreet?"

"That's out of the question. Freet is the least of my troubles, anyhow. I'll tell you all my plans. " He looked from Mrs. Flynn, whose anxiouseyes did not leave his face, to Pen, with her cheeks showing the scarletof excitement. Something in their tense interest in him was suddenlyvery comforting to Jim and he smiled at them. And though it was alittle strained it was the old flashing, sweet smile that those whoknew him loved. 

"I don't know how I'm to get through the next few weeks, " he said, "unless you two are very kind and polite to me. "

Mrs. Flynn suddenly threw her apron over her head. "God knows, " shesobbed, "I've waited for you to smile this weary time! I've washed andmended all your clothes and cleaned your room and cooked everything Iever heard of and not a smile could I get. I thought you had somethingincurable!"

Jim made a long stride across the room and hugged Mrs. Flynn, boyishly. "Didn't you tell me you felt like my mother? Don't you know mothers haveto see through their boy's stupidity and selfishness down to the realtrouble that lies underneath? No one will do it but a mother!"

Mrs. Flynn wiped her eyes on her apron. "God knows I'm an old fool, " shesaid. "Change that dirty khaki suit so's I can wash it. "

Jim chuckled and turned to Pen. She was watching the little tableau withall her hungry heart in her eyes. 

"Pen! Oh, my dearest!" breathed Jim. Then he paused with a glance at hisnear-mother, who immediately began to rattle the stove lids. 

"Get out and take a walk, the two of you. God knows I'm a good Catholic, but there's some things--get out, the two of you! Let your nerves easeup a bit. Sure we all pound and twang like a wet tent in the wind. "

Out on the trail Jim spoke a little breathlessly: "Pen! If you wouldjust let me put my head down on your shoulder, if you'd put your dearcheek on mine and smooth my hair, the heaven of it would carry methrough the next few weeks. Just that much, Pen, is all I'd ask for!"

Tears were in Pen's eyes as she looked up into the fine, pleading face. "Jim, I can't!"

"You wouldn't be taking it from Sara. "

"Sara! Poor Sara! He wants no embraces from anyone! I'm no more marriedto Sara than a nurse to her patient. But I mean that as long as thingsare as they are, the honest thing, the safe thing, is for me notto--to--Oh, Jim, it's not square to any of us. We must keep on thestraight, clear basis of friendship!"

But Jim had seen Pen's heart in her eyes and the call of it was almostmore than his lonely heart could bear. 

"Great heavens, Pen!" he cried. "Life is so short! We need each otherso! What does it profit us or the world that all your wealth oftenderness should go untouched and all my hunger for it unsatisfied? Ifyour touch on my hair will brace me for the fight of my life, why shouldyou deny it to me?"

Pen tried to laugh. "Still, what's happened to your morals?"

Jim replied indignantly: "You can't apply a system of ethics to yourcheek against mine except to say it's all wrong that I can't have younow, in my great need. And I warn you, Pen, I shall come to you thirstyuntil at last you give me what is mine. Only your cheek to mine is all Iask for, Penny. "

Pen looked up at the pleading beauty of Jim's eyes. "Don't plead withme, Jim, " she half whispered, "or I think my heart will break. "

The two looked away from each other to the Elephant. The great beastseemed to sleep in the afternoon sun. 

"Tell me about your plans, Still, " said Pen, her voice not altogethersteady. 

"Murphy thinks I'm a fool, " said Jim. "Perhaps I am. But Oscar Ames hasbeen a good deal of a surprise to me: Just as soon as I took the troubleto explain the concrete matter to him, he got it instantly. And in a wayhe got my talk about the new social obligations you showed me. "

Pen interrupted eagerly: "You don't know how much you did in that talk, Jim. Oscar has discovered you and he's as proud as Columbus. He has mademe tell him everything I know about you. You see you have that rarecapacity for making anyone you will take the trouble to talk to feel asif he was your only friend and confidant. Oscar has discovered that youare misunderstood, that he is the only person that really understandsyou and he's out now explaining to his neighbors how little they reallyknow about concrete. "

Jim looked surprised. "I don't know what I did, except to follow yourinstructions, but if it worked on Ames, it ought to work on the rest. Ibelieve that after a few more talks with Ames, he will work againstFleckenstein, Pen, and that I will accomplish it by just talking the damto him until he understands the technical side of it and the ideal Ihave about it. And if it will influence him, why not the others?"

Pen looked at him thoughtfully. "I believe you can do it, Jim. A sort ofsilent campaign, eh? And then what?"

"Well, if I can keep Fleckenstein out of Congress by those means, Ibelieve that this project will never repudiate its debt! I am going toget the Department of Agriculture to send a group of experts out here atonce. They will help not only the old farmers who over-irrigate but thenew farmers who can't farm. And I'm going to get the farmers who havebeen successful to co-operate with the farmers who have failed. If Ionly had more time!

"You have three months before election, " said Pen. "A lot can be done inthree months. "

Jim shrugged his shoulders. "I can only do my limit. Among other thingsI'm going to try to get the bankers and business men in Cabillo to fightthe inflation of land values here on the Project. Incidentally, I'mgoing to keep on building my dam. "

"How can I help?" asked Pen. 

"I've told you how, " said Jim, quietly. 

"Oh, Still, that's not fair!" exclaimed Pen. 

"Why not?" asked Jim, coolly. Pen flushed and looked away. They werenearing the tent house and she spoke hastily:

"I'll go in and talk with Sara. "

"Better let me, " said Jim. 

"No, " said Pen, "every woman has an inalienable right to bully andintimidate her own husband. "

Jim laughed and left her, reluctantly. Pen went into the tent. Sara waslooking flushed and tired. The look had been growing on him of late. Hehad been unusually tractable for a day or so and Pen's heart smote heras she greeted him. No matter how he tried her, Sara never ceased to bea pitiful and a tragic figure to her in his wrecked and aborted youth. 

"Sara, " she said, her voice very gentle and her touch very tender asshe held a glass of water for him, "Jim wanted to come in and talk toyou but I wouldn't let him. "

Sara pushed the glass away. "Why not?"

"Because you and he quarrel so. Sara, it's a fair fight. You warned Jimthat you would ruin him. He says you may have your choice of beingwatched or turned over to the authorities. "

"He is a mutton head!" said Sara. "I suppose he thinks the crux of thematter is that séance with Freet. As if I'd do as coarse work as that!That's what I'd like, to be turned over to the authorities. Couldn't Itell a pretty story about the meeting with Freet up here? Freet actuallythought Jim would come across with the contract! But that wasn't what Iwas after. "

"Sara, when you talk like that, I despise you, " said Pen. 

"You despise me because I'm a cripple, " returned Sara. "Why can't you behonest about it?"

"Don't you know me yet, Sara?" asked Pen, sitting down on the foot ofhis couch and looking at him entreatingly. "Don't you know that if youhad taken your injury like a man, you'd have gotten a hold on mytenderness and respect that nothing could have destroyed? Sara, I'vewatched you degenerate for eight years, but I never realized to what adepth you had sunk until you came to the Project. "

"What do you see in the Project, " said Sara. "What does it really matterwhether private or public interests control it? Who really cares?"

"Lots of people care. Jim cares. "

"Pshaw!" sneered Sara. "All Jim Manning really cares about is his ownpigheaded sense of race and nationality. "

"Jim needs that sense for his propelling power, " said Pen. "I believethat just as soon as a man loses his sense of nationality, he loses alot of his social force. Love of country--a man that hasn't it lackssomething very fine, like family pride and honor. Jim's sense of race isthe keynote to his character. And just as much as the New Englandershave lost that sense, have they lost their grip on the trend of thenation. They are the type that can't do without it. "

Sara eyed Pen curiously. She had turned to look out over the desertdistances so that Sara saw her profile clean cut against the sky. Shewas only a girl and yet she had lived through much. Sara looked at hernoble head, high arched above her ears; at her short nose and full softmouth, at her straight brow, all blending in an outline that was that ofthe thinker, infinitely sad in its intelligence. 

"That was a very highbrow statement of yours, Pen, " he said, lessharshly than usual. "How did you come to think about these things?"

Pen turned to look at him. "Marrying you made me, " she said. "I had touse my mind. I had no family. I had no talents. I had to teach myself asense of proportion that would keep you from wrecking me. I wanted toget to look at myself as one human living with millions of other humansand not as Pen, the center of her own universe. " Pen laughed a littlewistfully. "Since I couldn't mother children of my own, naturally, I hadto mother the world. "

Sara grunted. "Huh! Who can say my life has been altogether a failure?"

Sudden tears sprang to Pen's eyes. "Why, Sara, what a dear thing to say!And I thought you would remove my hair because of Jim's message. "

The sneer returned to Sara's voice. "You ask Jim if he ever heard oflocking the barn too late? Tell him to bring on his 'armed guards. '"

Pen was startled. "Sara, what have you done?"

Sara laughed. "If you and Jim don't know, I'm not the proper one to tellyou! One of your gentleman friends is outside, evidently waiting foryou. "

Pen looked out. Old Suma-theek was standing on the trail, arms folded, watching the tent patiently. He had had one interview with Sara soonafter the crippled man had appeared at the dam. The talk had beendesultory and in Pen's presence, but never after could the old Indian beinduced to come into the tent. 

"He like a broken backed snake, your buck, " he had said calmly to Pen, whom he had obviously adored from the first. 

Pen came down the trail to see what Suma-theek wanted. She knew therewas no hurrying him, so she sat down on a stone and waited. Suma-theekseated himself beside her and rolled a cigarette. After he had smokedhalf of it, he said:

"Boss Still Jim, he heap sad in his heart. "

Pen nodded. 

"You love him, Pen Squaw?" asked Suma-theek, earnestly. 

"We all do, " replied Pen. "He and I have known each other many, manyyears. "

"Don't talky-talk!" cried Suma-theek impatiently. "I mean you love himwith a big love?"

Pen looked into Suma-theek's face. She had grown very close to the oldIndian. And then, as if the flood in her heart was beyond her control, she said:

"You will never tell, Suma-theek?" and as the Apache shook his head shewent on eagerly, "I love him so much that after a while I must go away, old friend, or my heart will break!"

The old Indian shook his head wonderingly. "Whites are crazy fools, " hegroaned. "You sabez he be here only three months more?"

Pen started. "What do you mean, Suma-theek?"

"You no tell 'em!" warned the old chief. "He tell Suma-theek thismorning. Big Boss in Washington tell 'em he only stay three months, thenbe on any Projects no more. "

Pen sat appalled. "Oh, Suma-theek, that can't be true! You couldn't haveheard right. I'll go and ask him now. "

Suma-theek laid a hand on her arm. "You no talk to him about it! Youlast one he want to know. I tell you so you go love him, then he no carewhat happen. "

"Oh, Suma-theek, you don't understand! He loves the dam. It will breakhis heart to leave it. Even I couldn't comfort him for that. Are yousure you are right?"

Yet even as she repeated the question, Pen's own sick heart answered. This was what had put the new strain into Jim's face, the new pleadinginto his voice. 

"How shall I help him, " she moaned. 

"You no tell him, you sabez, " repeated Suma-theek. "He want you think heBoss here long as he can. All men's like that with their squaw. "

"I won't tell him, " promised Pen. "But what shall I do?" She claspedand unclasped her fingers, then she sprang to her feet. "I know! I know!It will be like a strong arm under his poor overburdened shoulders!"

CHAPTER XXIII

THE SILENT CAMPAIGN

 "I have seen that those humans who seek strength from Nature never fail to find it. "

 MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. 

Suma-theek waited eagerly. "I'll send for Uncle Benny, " said Pen. "He'llleave anything to help Jim. "

Suma-theek nodded. "Good medicine. He that fat uncle that love the BigBoss. I sabez him. You get 'em here quick, " and Suma-theek sighed withthe air of one who had accomplished something. 

"I'll telephone a night telegram to Cabillo, " said Pen. "He ought to behere in a week. But we mustn't tell the Big Boss or he wouldn't let usdo it. "

Suma-theek nodded and strolled off. When Pen returned to the tent Sarawas full of curiosity, but Pen began to get supper with the remark, "I'mnot the proper one to tell you, if you don't know!"

When Pen sent the night telegram, she telephoned to Jane Ames, gettingher promise to come up to the dam the next day. As she took the longtrail back from the store, where she had gone for privacy in sending hermessages, it seemed to Pen that she could not bear to refuse Jim thecomfort for which he had begged. 

"My one safeguard, " she thought, "is to avoid him except where we arechaperoned by half the camp. My poor boy, keeping his real troubles tohimself!"

After Sara was asleep that night, Pen slipped over to talk with Mrs. Flynn. The two women were good friends. Sara's ugliness deprived Penhere as it had in New York of the friendship of most women. In the campwere many charming women who had lived lives with their engineeringhusbands that made them big of soul and sound of body. But Sara wouldhave none of them. So Pen fell back on Mrs. Ames and Mrs. Flynn and thestrangely matched trio had many happy hours together. 

But Mrs. Flynn was not in her kitchen, nor was she in her littlebedroom. Pen wandered into the living room. Mrs. Flynn was not there, but Jim was lying on the couch asleep, his hat on the floor beside him. For many moments Pen stood looking at him. Sleep robbed Jim of his guardof self-control. The man lying on the couch, with face relaxed, lipsparted, hair tumbled, looked like the boy whom Pen many a time hadwakened on the hearth rug of the old library. 

Suddenly, with a little sob, Pen dropped on her knees beside the couchand laid her cheek against Jim's. She felt him wake with a start, thenshe felt a hand that trembled gently laid on her head. 

"Heart's dearest, this is mighty good of you!" said Jim huskily. 

Pen did not answer, but she put her hand up and smoothed his hair backfrom his forehead. Jim seized her fingers and carried them to his lips. 

"Sweetheart, " he said brokenly, "how am I going to bear it without youor--or anything. Oh, Pen, let's go back to Exham and begin all overagain!"

Penelope lifted her head and slipped back until she was sitting on thefloor beside the couch, with Jim holding both her hands against his hotcheek. 

"You will do this often, won't you, dear?" asked Jim. 

Pen shook her head. "Jimmy, about twice more like this and I'd beactually thinking seriously of leaving Sara and marrying you. God helpme to keep from ever doing as yellow a thing as that, Still. But, somehow tonight, I thought that just this once would help us boththrough all the hard months to come. And the memory will be mightysweet. We--we need a memory to take some of the bitterness out of itall, Still. If I'm wrong in doing this, why the blame is mine alone. "

Jim lay silently, holding her hands closer and closer, looking into herface with eyes that did not waver. 

Pen smiled and disengaged one hand to smooth his hair again. "I'm a poorpreacher. My life is just an endless struggle not to let my mistakeswreck other people as well as myself. Jim, the thing that will be biggerthan all we've missed is to make you give the world all the fine forcethat is in you. We've _got_ to save the dam for you and for the country. I shall be with you every moment, Jim, no matter where either of us is, bracing you with all the will I've got. Never forget that!"

Little by little the steel lines crept over Jim's face again. "I shallnot forget, little Pen. How sweet you are! How good! How less than alump of dough I'd be if I didn't put up a good fight afterthis!--dearest!"

In the silence that followed, they did not take their gaze from eachother. Then Pen started, as Mrs. Flynn came in at the front door andstopped with her mouth open. But Jim would not free Pen's hand. 

"Mother Flynn must have guessed, " he said slowly, "and--she knows usboth!"

Mrs. Flynn came over to the couch eagerly. "I do that!" she exclaimed, "and my heart is wore to a string, God knows, sorrowing for the two ofyou. "

"I came in to see you and found Jim asleep and--he's got so much troubleahead of him, I couldn't help trying to comfort him just this once. I'llnever do it again, " said Pen, like a child. 

Mrs. Flynn threw her apron over her head, then pulled it down again tosay, "God knows I'm a good Catholic, but I'm glad you did it. Don't Iknow what a touch of the hand means to remember? Is there a day of mylife I don't live over every caress Timothy Flynn ever gave me? Would Isit in judgment on two as fine as I know the both of you are? I'm goingto make us a cup of tea for our nerves. "

Jim swung his long legs off the couch and lifted Pen to her feet. "Thetwo of you have tea, " he said. "I've had a better tonic. I'm going outfor a look at the night shift. "

By the time that Mrs. Flynn had bustled about and produced the tea, Penhad regained her composure and was ready to tell Mrs. Flynn of theerrand that had brought her to the house, which was that when Jane Amescame up on the morrow the three were to have a council of war on how tohelp Jim. Wild horse could not have dragged from her what Suma-theek hadtold her, since Jim so evidently wanted it kept a secret. Nevertheless, all that a woman could do, possessing that knowledge, Pen was going todo. 

The next afternoon, while Oscar joined Murphy and Jim, who were having along talk in Jim's living room, Pen and Mrs. Ames and Mrs. Flynn went uponto the Elephant's back. 

Pen's plan was simple. It was merely that she and Jane go among thefarmers' wives and campaign against Fleckenstein. "Women's opinions docount, you know, " she said. 

"Mine didn't use to, " said Jane, "but they do now. I ain't felt so youngin years as I have since Oscar and I had that clearing up. It's asplendid idea. "

"Where do I come in?" asked Mrs. Flynn, jealously. 

"I wanted you to keep an eye on Sara, the days I am away, " said Pen. "You are the only one he will let come near him except me. "

"Sure I'll do it, " said Mrs. Flynn. "I'd take care of a Gila monster ifI thought it would do the Boss any good. And Mr. Sara don't sass me somuch since I told him what I thought of the Greek church. No! No! Iwon't tell the Boss. God knows I'm worried thin as a knitting needle nowover his worrying. "

"Then I'll come down tomorrow, Jane, " said Pen. "Bill Evans will take usround. He charges----" Pen blushed and stopped. "I--I--to tell thetruth, I have to ask Sara for what I want and I don't know just how toget round it, this time. "

Jane in her turn went red. "I'll ask Oscar. I hadn't begun to break himin on that yet. But he's been so nice lately. "

Mrs. Flynn stood eying the two women. "Of all the fools, women are theworst, " she snorted. "You bet Tim never kept the purse and there neverwas a happier pair than him and me. Just you wait. "

As she spoke, Jim's near mother was exploring the region within hergingham waist and finally she tugged out a chamois skin bag that bulgedwith bills. "I ain't been down to the bank at Cabillo for months, andthat angel boy pays me regular as a clock. How much do you want?"

"Oh, but we can't let you pay out anything, Mrs. Flynn, " protestedPenelope. 

Neither Pen nor Mrs. Ames had seen Mrs. Flynn angry before. "I mustn't, mustn't I?" she shrieked. "Who's got a better right? Who feeds him andlaunders him and mends him? Don't he call me Mother Flynn? God knows Inever thought to see the day to be told I could not do for him! I expectto be doing for him till I die and if God lets me live to spare my life, that'll be a long time yet!"

Pen threw her arms round Mrs. Flynn and kissed her plump cheek. "Blessyour dear heart, you shall spend all you want to on Jim. "

Mother Flynn sobbed a little. "God knows I'm an old fool, girls! Takewhat you want and come back for more. "

And thus the campaign for Jim among the farmers' wives was launched. 

Neither Oscar nor Murphy had any faith in Jim's "silent campaign. " Buthis own quiet fervor was such that after that Sunday afternoon's talk, both men pledged themselves to help him. Murphy was to play the part ofwatchdog. Oscar was to work among the farmers. 

Oscar Ames never did anything by halves. With Jane urging him fromwithout and his new found faith in Jim urging him from within, he turnedhis ranch over to the foreman and devoted himself utterly to Jim. Thedays now were busy ones in the valley as well as on the dam. Jim'seighteen hours a day often stretched into twenty, though he sometimesdozed in his office chair or in the automobile with Oscar, reveling inhis new-learned accomplishment, driving at a snail's pace. 

During this period Pen saw him only infrequently, for she was muchoccupied with Sara, who was not so well, when she was not in the valleywith Jane Ames. Even when Pen did see Jim, he talked very little. Itseemed to her that in his fear lest the secret of his dismissal escapehim, he had gone into himself and shut the door even against her. 

They did not speak again of watching Sara, but Pen knew that no mailleft their tent, no visitor came and went without surveillance. If Saraknew of this, he made no comment. In fact, he did very little now savesmoke and stare idly out the door. 

Reports of Jim's campaign reached Pen quite regularly, however. Oscarwas a very steady source of information. 

"He don't say much, you know, and that's what makes a hit, " Oscar toldPen and Jane. "For instance, he went over to old Miguel's ranch. Miguel's one of the fellow's been accusing the Boss of raising the costof the dam so's he could steal the money. Boss, he found old Miguellooking over his ditch that's over a hundred years old. And the Boss, hesays as common as an old shoe:

"'Wish I owned the place my fathers built a hundred years ago, SeñorMiguel. '

"Miguel, he had had his mind made up for a fight, but started offtelling the Boss about old Spanish days in the valley and the Boss, hesits nodding and smoking Miguel's rotten cigarettes and smiling at himsort of sad and friendly like until old Miguel he thinks the Boss is theonly man he ever met that understood him. After two straight hours ofthis, the Boss he says he'll have to go, but he wishes old Miguel wouldcome up and spend the day and dine with him. Says he's got some seriousproblems he'd like old Miguel's opinion on. And old Miguel, he followsus clear out to the main road, where we left the machine, and he tellsthe Boss his house is his and his wife and his daughters and sons arehis and his horses and cattle are his and that he will be glad to comeup and show him how to build the dam. "

"Mrs. Flynn says he's having some farmer up to supper nearly everynight, " said Jane. "Oscar, how comes it you always speak of Mr. Manningas the Boss, now? You never would call any other man that?"

Oscar squared his big shoulders. "He's the only man I ever met I thoughtknew more than I do. You ought to hear the things he can tell you aboutdam building. And he's full of other ideas, too. A lot of what you folksput down as stuckupedness is just quietness on his part while he thinks. I'm trying to pound that into these bullheaded ranchers round here. Itell 'em how to make sand-cement, for instance, and then ask 'em if afellow didn't have to keep his mouth shut and saw wood while he thoughta thing like that out. I'm willing to call him Boss, all right. He'sgot more in his head than sand cement, too. Last night, we was cominghome just before supper. He's been on the job since four in the morningand I knew he had to get back and work half the night on office work. And I says:

"'Boss, what will you get out of it to pay you for half killing yourselfthis way?'

"He didn't answer me for a long time, then he begun to tell me a storyabout how he and another fellow went through the Makon canyon and howthat other fellow felt about it and how he was drowned and how he hadsome verses that that fellow taught him printed on his gravestone. Thought I'd remember those lines. They made me feel more religious thananything I've heard at church. Something about Sons of Martha. "

Pen had been listening, her heart in her eyes, trying not to envy Oscarhis long days with Jim. Now she leaned forward eagerly. 

"Oh, I know what he quoted to you:

 "'Lift ye the stone or cleave the wood to make a path more or flat, Lo, it is black already with blood, some Son of Martha spilled for that. Not as a ladder from Earth to Heaven, not as an altar to any creed, But simple Service, simply given, to their own kind, in their common need. '"

The three sat silent for a moment, then Oscar nodded. "That's them. Hesaid he never got their full meaning till just lately and now he'strying to live up to 'em. I'm perfectly willing to call him Boss. "

Pen and Jane were not finding the farmers' wives easy to influence. Their task was a double one. First they had to rouse interest in thecoming election and then they had to persuade the women that theirhusbands were wrong. Moreover, after the first week or so, they foundthat Penelope's presence was a hindrance rather than a help. It wasafter their call on Mrs. Hunt that they reluctantly reached thisconclusion. 

Bill rattled them up to a bungalow on one of the new ranches. The Huntswere newcomers, having bad luck with their first attempts at irrigation. Mrs. Hunt was a hearty looking woman of forty. Pen stated the object ofthe call. 

"I never had any interest in politics, " said Mrs. Hunt. "I was alwaystoo busy with my family to gallivant around. "

Jane and Pen plunged earnestly into explanations. When they hadfinished, Mrs. Hunt said:

"I can see why Mrs. Ames is so interested. But why should you be, Mrs. Sardox? I heard your husband was backing Fleckenstein. "

"I don't agree with my husband's ideas, " said Pen. "I am doing thisbecause I think Fleckenstein's election will do the valley a deadlywrong. "

"Oh, you are one of those eastern women that thinks they know more thantheir husbands! I am not! I prefer to let my husband do my thinking inpolitics for me. Does Mr. Manning know you're doing this?"

"Oh, no!" cried Jane. "You don't understand this, Mrs. Hunt. "

"I'm no fool, " returned Mrs. Hunt. "And I tell you it don't look wellfor a good-looking young married woman to go round fighting against herhusband for a handsome young bachelor like Manning. So there!"

Pen and Jane withdrew with as much dignity as they could muster. It wasthe sixth rebuff they had received that day. Pen was almost in tears. 

"Jane, what are we to do?"

Jane fastened up her linen duster firmly. "One thing is sure, you can'tgo round with me. One way, you can't blame 'em for looking at it so, drat 'em! I'll just have to carry on this campaign by myself. I wish Mr. Manning could go with me. I don't think he has any idea that he has away with women. He just sits around looking as if he had a deep-hiddensorrow and all us women fall for it. You and I aren't a bit moresensible than Mrs. Flynn. Here I got a Chinese cook in the house Oscarlugged home. I'd as soon have a rat in the house as one of the nastyyellow things, but Oscar says I got to have him or a dish washingmachine, so, after all, I've said I'm up against it. And here I amdashing round the country for Mr. Manning, when I know that Chink ismaking opium pills in my kitchen. "

But Pen was not to be distracted. "What can I do, Jane? Must I just sitwith folded hands while the rest of you work?"

"You do your share in supplying ideas, Penelope, " said Jane. 

Pen answered with a little sob, "I get tired of that job! I want to beon the firing line, just once!"

That night they consulted with Oscar. At first he was very hostile tothe thought of either of them undertaking such work. Then in the midstof his tirade on woman's sphere, he stopped with a roar of laughter. 

"And I'm a fine example of what a woman can do with a man when she getsbusy! All right, Jane, go ahead. Hanged if I ain't proud of you! ButMrs. Pen is hurting the cause. The women folks won't stand for you, Mrs. Pen; you are too pretty. "

So Pen withdrew from the campaign and Jane and Bill Evans went on alone. 

When Oscar was not with Jim, he brought visitors to the dam. Thesevisitors were farmers and business men from the entire Project. Ames wascareful to time the visits, so that about the time he strolled up to thedam site with the callers, Jim would be on his tour of inspection. Oscarwould then follow unostentatiously in Jim's wake, but close enough toget a good idea of the ground that Jim covered. Often he would make Jimstop and give an explanation of some point the visitors could notunderstand. Penelope, consumed with curiosity, joined the touring partyone day. 

"I wish you could see him in full action, " Oscar was saying. "Like theday of the flood or the night Dad Robins was killed. He can handlefifteen hundred men better'n I handle my three. Now you watch him. Thosethere fellows he's joshing have been with him seven years. You ought tohear their stories about driving the tunnel up on the Makon. Say, he'dgo right in with 'em. Never asked 'em to go somewhere he wouldn't gohimself. They all laugh at us farmers, those rough-necks. Say, we don'tknow a real man when we see one. "

The bronzed elderly man who was with Oscar listened intently. Oscar wenton:

"The details on a place like this are enough to drive a man crazy. Hedassent let 'em pour concrete without him or his cement expert isround. If the rocks aren't just right or the surface of the sectionisn't just right or they slip up a little on the mixture, the wholething will go to thunder some day. He's got to spend ten million dollarswith eighty million people watching him and all us farmers kicking everyminute. How'd you like his job?"

"He was over at my place the other day, " said the farmer. "I see how hegot his nickname. But he's awful easy to talk to. I got to telling himwhat a hard time I had the first year or two I was irrigating alfalfaand how I get five good cuttings a year now, regular. He wants me toshow that new fellow Hunt how I did it. Guess I will. I always thoughtManning hated the farmers. But I guess he was just busy with his owntroubles. "

Pen fell back and climbed the trail to a point where she could look downon Jim. He was listening to his master mechanic, interjecting a word nowand then at which his subordinate nodded eagerly. Pen wondered sadly, what Jim would do with his life when he could no longer work for theProjects. The thought of this sudden thwarting of all his plans hauntedher and she longed almost unbearably to talk to him about it, but hissilence on the subject she felt that she must respect. As she saunteredon along the trail to meet Bill Evans exploding into camp with the mail, she was thinking back over Jim's life and of how much of it had beenspent in listening rather than in speaking. His silence, she thought, was a part of his great personal charm. From it his companions got asense of a keen, sympathetic intelligence focused entirely on their ownproblems that was very attractive. Somehow, Pen had faith that hiscampaign of silence would defeat Fleckenstein. 

Bill had a lone passenger in his tonneau. Pen's pulse quickened. As themachine reached her side, Bill stopped with his usual flourish, andUncle Denny, without waiting to open the door which was fastened withbinding wire, climbed out over the front seat. 

"Pen! Pen! The door of me heart has hung sagging and open ever since youleft!"

CHAPTER XXIV

UNCLE DENNY GETS BUSY

 "Coyotes breed only with coyotes. Men talk much of pride of race, yet they will breed with any color. "

 MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. 

Pen clung to Uncle Denny with a breathless sob. She had not realized howheavy her burden was until Uncle Denny had come to share it. 

"Uncle Denny! You didn't answer my telegram and I didn't dare hope youwould get here. "

"Where is Jim, Penny, and how is me boy?"

"I'll take you to him now. He has no idea of your coming. Bill, we willwalk. Take the trunk on up to Mr. Manning's house, will you?"

"I was afraid 'twould get out and I knew he'd never stand for me comingout to help. That's why I sent you no word, " said Uncle Denny, beginningto puff up the trail beside Pen. 

"He's just the same old Jim, " said Pen, "but under a terrific strainjust now, of course. You can understand from my letters just how greatthat is. "

"And Sara?" asked Uncle Denny. 

"Not so well, " replied Pen. "He is very quiet, these days. There is thefirst glimpse of the dam, Uncle Denny. "

Uncle Denny stopped and wiped the sweat out of his eyes with his silkhandkerchief. He gazed in silence for a moment at the mammothfoundations, over which the workmen ran like ants. 

"'Twas but a hole in the ground when I last saw it, " he said. "Pen, it'sso big you can't compass it in your mind. And they are pecking at me boywhile he builds mountains!"

"There he is!" exclaimed Pen, pointing to the tower foot. 

"It is! It's Still Jim! Is me collar entirely wilted?"

Pen laughed. "Uncle Denny, you're as fussed as a girl at meeting hersweetheart! You look beautiful and you know it. There! He sees us!"

Uncle Denny lost a little of his color and stood still. Jim camestriding down the road. His eyes were black with feeling. Without a wordhe threw his arms around Uncle Dennis and hugged that rotund person offhis feet. 

"Still Jim, me boy!" cried Uncle Denny. "I've come out to lick the worldfor ye!"

Jim loosened his bear hug and stepped back. His smile was brilliant. 

"Uncle Denny, you look like a tailor's ad! Doesn't he, little Penelope?"

There was something in Jim's voice as he spoke Pen's name that MichaelDennis understood as clearly as if Jim had shouted his feeling for Penin his ear. 

"I'm starving to death, " he said hastily. "Take me home, Still. Comealong, Pen. "

Mrs. Flynn was surveying the trunk as it stood on end in the livingroom. She was talking rapidly to herself and as the three came up on theporch she cried:

"I said 'twas you, Mr. Dennis! I told myself fifty times 'twas yourtrunk and still myself kept contradicting me. You are as handsome as aDonegal dude. Leave me out to the kitchen till I get an early supper!"

After supper Jim and Dennis sat for a short time over their pipes beforeJim left for some office work. 

"Tell me what to do first, Still, " said Uncle Denny, "and I'll start acampaign against Fleckenstein that'll turn the valley upside down. That's what I came out for. I'll fix them, the jackals!"

"Uncle Denny, it won't do, " answered Jim slowly. "The uncle of a Projectengineer can't carry on a political campaign in his behalf. You'd justget me in deeper with the public. "

Uncle Denny stared. "But I came out for that very thing. "

"I thought you had just come out for one of your usual visits. It won'tdo, dear Uncle Denny. I can't say anything against Fleckenstein nor mustyou. "

"Me boy, " said Michael Dennis, "all the public sentiment on earth can'tkeep me from fighting Fleckenstein. Pen sent for me and I'm here. "

"Pen sent for you?" repeated Jim. "Why, Pen should not have done that. "

"This is a poor welcome, Jim, " said Uncle Denny, immeasurable reproachin his voice. 

Jim sprang to his feet and put a long brown hand on Uncle Denny'sshoulder. "You can't mean that, Uncle Denny. It's meat and drink to meto have you here. You can't doubt it. "

"I can't, indeed, " agreed Dennis heartily. "And somehow, I'm going tohelp. Go get your work done and then call for me at Pen's house. "

Jim had been in the office but a few minutes when he came out again andstood on the edge of the canyon, staring at the silhouette of theElephant against the night stars. After a moment he turned up the trailtoward the tent house. He entered without ceremony and stood a tall, slender, commanding figure against the white of the tent wall. His eyeswere big and bright. His lips were stiff as he looked at Sara and said:

"You are fully even now, Saradokis. I've a notion to kill you as I woulda rattler. "

The tent was bright with lamplight. The red and black Navajo acrossSara's cot was as motionless over the outline of his great legs asthough it covered a dead man. Uncle Denny stared at Jim withoutstirring. His florid face paled a little and his bright Irish eyes didnot blink. 

Pen could see a tiny patch that Mrs. Flynn had put on the knee of Jim'sriding breeches. There swept over her a sudden appreciation of Jim'sutter simplicity and sincerity under all the stupendous responsibilitieshe had assumed not only in the building of the dam, but in his lesstangible building for the nation. As he stood before them she saw himnot as a man but as the boy Uncle Denny often had described to her, announcing the vast discovery of his life work. Would he, had he knownthe bitter years ahead of him, have chosen the same, she wondered. 

"I found two interesting communications in my mail tonight, " said Jim, slowly. "One is a letter from the Washington Office containing clippingsfrom eastern papers. Some reporter announces that he has discovered afully developed scheme of mine and Freet's to sell out to theTransatlantic people. He gives a twisted version of the conversationhere, the other night, that sounds like conclusive evidence. The matteris so well handled that even the Washington office is convinced that I'ma crook. The local papers will, of course, copy this. "

Sara did not stir. Jim moistened his lips. "While I knew that I livedunder a cloud of suspicion, " he said, "I thought to be able to leave theService with nothing worse than suspicion on my name. I shall never beable to live this down. Yet this is not the worst. I received tonight ananonymous letter. It states that unless I drop my silent campaign, thename of the wife of my crippled friend will be coupled with mine in anunpleasant manner. "

Pen's eyes were for a moment horror-stricken. Then they blazed withanger. And so suddenly that Jim and Dennis hardly saw her leave herchair. She sprang over to Sara's couch and struck him across the mouthwith her open hand. The stillness in the room for a second was complete, except that Sara breathed heavily as he rose to his elbow. 

"I may or may not have produced the newspaper copy, but so help me theGod I have blasphemed, I have never used Pen's name, " said Sara. 

"But you have, " said Jim. "You used it before Freet. You probably havecursed me out before Fleckenstein as you did before him and Ames!"

"And there was my trying to help Jane Ames in the valley!" cried Pensuddenly. "She's talking with the farmers' wives for Jim and I went withher until the women were cattish. Oh, Jim, what have we done to you, Sara and I?"

"I shall have to give up the fight a little earlier, that is all, "answered Jim. "Don't feel badly, Pen. If I only had some way ofpunishing Sara and stopping his mischief! Though it's too late now. "

"Just be patient, Jim, " said Sara. "My mischief will soon end. "

Pen had heard only Jim, the first sentence of Jim's remarks. She stoodbeside the table, white to the lips. "Jim, if you want to wreck my life, stop the fight! Do you suppose, except for the moment's shame, I carewhat they say about me? If you will only go on with your fight, Jim, letthem say what they will. I can stand it. My strength--my strength----"Pen paused with a little sob, as if Uncle Denny reminded her of hergirlhood dreams, "my strength is in the eternal hills!"

"I have lived with George Saradokis all these years, " Pen went on, "andhe's almost broken my faith in life. When I found I could help you, Jim, I thought that I was making up for some of the wrong of my marriage. Ieven thought that I'd be willing to go through my marriage again becauseit had taught me how to help you fight. Jim, it will ruin my life if youstop now!"

And Pen suddenly dropped her face in her hands and broke down entirely. Jim never had seen Pen cry. He took a step toward her, then lookedpitifully at Uncle Denny. 

Uncle Denny sprang from his chair. 

"Go on out, Jim, " he said. Then he folded Pen in his arms. "Rest here, sweet, tired bird, " he said in his rich voice. "Rest here, for I loveyou with all me soul. "

Jim's lips quivered. He went out into the night and once more climbedthe Elephant's back. For a long time he sat, too exhausted by hisemotions to think. With head resting on his arms, he let the night windsweep across him until little by little his brain cleared and he lookedabout him. Far and wide, the same wonder of the desert night; the stars, so low, so tender, so inscrutable, the sky so deep, so utterlycompassionate; the far black scratch of the river on the silver desert, the distant black lift of the mountains--Pen's eternal hills!

Over the flagpole on the office the flag rippled and floated, sank androse, dancing like a child in the joy of living. Jim looked at itwistfully. Flag that his forefathers had fashioned from the fabric oftheir vision, must the vision be forgotten? It was a great vision, fitto cover the yearnings of the world. His grandfather had fought for itat Antietam. His father had lost it and had died, bewildered and hungryof soul. Was he himself to lose it, son of vision seekers?

The Elephant beneath him seemed to listen for Jim's reply. "God knows, "he said at last, "I would not deny the vision to all the immigrantworld. All I wish is that we who made the vision had kept it and hadtaught it to these others to whom our heritage must go. You can scoff, old Elephant, but the struggle _is_ worth while. You can say thatnothing matters but Time. I tell you that eternity is made up of soulfights like mine and Pen's!"

Suddenly there came to him the fragment that Pen had quoted to him daysbefore:

 "What though the field be lost? All is not lost--the unconquerable will, And courage never to submit nor yield; And what is else, not to be overcome!"

Jim suddenly rose with his blood quickened. "Not to be overcome! AndGod, what stakes to fight for! To build my father's dream in stone andto make a valley empire out of the tragedy of a woman's soul!"

With renewed strength Jim went down the trail, crossed the canyon andwent up to his house. 

Uncle Denny was waiting for him. It was nearly midnight. He had kindleda fire in the grate and was brewing some tea. "Mrs. Flynn would have ityou'd fallen off a peak but I got her to bed. Have some tea, me boy. "

Uncle Denny's voice was cheerful, though his eyes were red. He watchedJim anxiously. 

"You should have gone to bed yourself, Uncle Denny. I have a letter towrite, then I'm going to turn in. "

Uncle Denny's hand shook as he poured the tea. "I had to see you, Still, because I promised Pen I'd go back over there tonight and tell her whatyour decision was. "

Jim caught up his hat. "I'll go!"

But Uncle Denny laid his hand on Jim's arm. "No, me boy. Pen's had allshe can stand tonight. I'll take her your word. What shall it be, Still?"

Jim brought his fist down on the table. "Tell her, with her help, I'llkeep up the fight!"

Uncle Denny's blue eyes blazed. "I'm prouder of the two of you than I amof me Irish name, " he said, and, seizing his hat, he hurried out. 

While he was gone Jim wrote this note:

"My dear Mr. Secretary:--Some time ago I wrote you that I did not thinkan engineer should be asked to build the dam and at the same time handlethe human problems connected with the Project. Subsequent events lead meto believe that as your letter suggests it is the duty of the governmentto look on these Projects not as engineering problems so much as thebuilding of small democracies that may become the living nuclei for therebirth of all that America once stood for. I do not believe that I ambig enough for such a job, but I am putting up a fight. I have beenasked to resign within a few weeks from now. I think, looking at thematter from the point of view I have just expressed, that I am dismissedwith justice. This letter is to ask you to see that my successor ischosen with the care that you would give to the founder of a colony. "

Uncle Denny returned and waited until Jim had finished his letter. Thenhe said:

"Sara spoke just once after you left. He denied any knowledge of theanonymous letter. "

"I'm going to put it up to Fleckenstein, " said Jim. "The newspaper dope, of course, was Sara's. I can only ignore that except to answer anyquestions the farmers may put to me about it. How is Pen?"

"She cried it out on me shoulder after you left and felt better for thetears. Your message will send her to sleep. Still Jim, if I had a juryof atheists and could put Pen on the stand and make her give herphilosophy as she has sweated it out of her young soul, I could makethem all believe in the eternal God and His mighty plans. To be biggerthan circumstance, that's the acid test for human character. "

Jim nodded and looked into the fire. This suggestion that he might bethe instrument of a mighty plan, he and Pen and Uncle Denny, awed him. Uncle Denny eyed the fine drooping brown head for a moment. 

"Ah, me boy! Me boy!" he said tenderly. "The old house at Exham is not afutile ruin. 'Tis the cocoon that gave birth to the butterfly wings of agreat hope. Look up, Still! You've friends with you till the end of thefight. "

Jim reached for Michael Dennis' hand and held it with both his own, while he said: "Stay with me for a month or two, Uncle Denny. Don't goaway. I need you. I've neither wife nor father and I haven't the gift ofspeech that makes a man friends. "

Jim was off the next morning before daylight. Uncle Denny slept late andwhile he was eating his breakfast, the ex-saloonkeeper, Murphy, came in. 

"The Big Boss sent me up to spend the day with you, Mr. Dennis. He can'tget back till late in the afternoon. He told me to talk Project politicsto you. My name is Murphy. I'm timekeeper down below, but I've left thejob for a while for reasons of my own. "

Uncle Denny pulled a chair out for Murphy and looked at himthoughtfully. 

"Do you know this jackal, Fleckenstein?"

"I do. The Boss showed me that letter. I suppose you know how a man likeMr. Manning would take to a fellow like Fleckenstein?"

"Know!" snorted Uncle Denny. "Why, young fellow, I'd know Jim'sdisembodied soul if I met it in an uninhabited desert. "

Murphy raised his eyebrows. "You're Irish, I take it. "

"You take it right. "

"I was born in Dublin myself. "

The two men shook hands and Murphy went on. "I told the Boss to forgetthat letter. I know Fleckenstein. I know all his secrets just as I doabout every other man's in the valley. I know their shames and theirbusiness grafts. In fact I know everything but the best side of 'em. I've been in the saloon business in this valley for twenty years, Mr. Dennis. "

"Ah!" said Uncle Denny. "I understand now!"

"All I've got to do, " said Murphy, "is to drop in on Fleckenstein andmention this letter and suggest that my own information is what youmight call detailed. 'Twill be enough. "

"Of course, it might not be Fleckenstein, " said Dennis. 

"Never mind! My warning will reach the proper party, if I go toFleckenstein, " said Murphy. He smacked his lips over the cup of coffeeMrs. Flynn set before him. 

"And how came you to be helping the Boss instead of distributing booze?"asked Uncle Denny. 

"I was about ready to quit, anyhow, " said Murphy. "A man gets sick ofcrooked deals if you give him time. And time was when a man could keep asaloon in this section and still be the leading citizen and his wifecould hold up her head with the banker's wife. That time's gone. I'vebeen thinking for a long time of marrying and settling down. Then theBoss cleaned me out. " Murphy chuckled. 

"How was that?" asked Dennis. Mrs. Flynn began to clear the table veryslowly. 

"Well, this is the way of it, " and Murphy told the story of his firstmeeting with Jim. "I've seen him in action, you see, " he concluded, "andI'd be sorry for Fleckenstein if he crosses the Boss's path. "

"Jim'll never trouble himself to kick the jackal!" said Uncle Denny. 

"Huh! You don't know that boy. There was a look in his eye thismorning--God help Fleckenstein if he meets the Big Boss--but he'll avoidthe Boss like poison. "

Uncle Denny shook his head. "What kind is Fleckenstein?"

"What kind of a man would be countenancing a letter like that?" ThenMurphy laughed. "The first time I ever saw Fleckenstein he was riding inthe stage that ran west from Cabillo. Bill Evans was driving andFleckenstein got to knocking this country and telling about the realfolks back East. Bill stood it for an hour, then he turned round andsaid: 'Why, damn your soul, we make better men than you in this countryout of binding wire! What do you say to that?' And Fleckenstein shutup. "

Uncle Denny chuckled. "Have a cigar? Is Jim making any headway in this'silent campaign' I'm hearing about?"

"Thanks, " said Murphy. "Well, he is and he ain't. He's got a greatpersonality and everybody who gets his number will eat sand for him. Hemade a great speech at Cabillo, time of the Hearing. He said the damwas his thumb-print--kind of like the mounds the Injuns left, I guess. People are kind of coupling that speech up now with him when they meethim and they are beginning to have their doubts about his dishonesty. But I don't believe he can get his other idea across on the farmers andrough-necks in time to lick Fleckenstein. "

"And what is his other idea?" asked Dennis. 

Murphy smoked and stared into space for a time before he answered. "Ican best tell you that by giving you an incident. I went with Ames andthe Boss while he called on a farmer named Marshall. Marshall is abright man and no drinker. He has been loud in his howls about the Bossbeing incompetent and kicking about the farmer having to pay thebuilding charges. Marshall was cleaning his buckboard and the Boss, sortof easy like, picks up a brush and starts to brush the cushion. 

"'My father used to make me sweep the chicken coop, ' says the Boss. 'Wewere too poor to keep a horse. If I couldn't build a dam better than Iused to sweep that coop, I'd deserve all you folks say about me. '

"He says this so sort of sad like that Marshall can't help laughing, andhe starts in telling how he used to sojer when he was a kid. And oncestarted, with the Boss looking like his heart would melt out of hiseyes, Marshall kept it up till the whole of his life lay before the Bosslike an illustrated Sunday Supplement. 

"'You've had great experiences, ' says the Boss. 'I've not had muchexperience in dealing with men as you have. I'm wondering if you wouldhelp me get this idea across with the folks round here. I want them tosee this; that America has never made a more magnificent experiment tosee if us folks can handle our own big business and pay a debtcontracted by ourselves. I'd like to see this done, Marshall, ' he sayssad like, 'as a sort of last legacy of the New England spirit, for weold New Englanders are going, Marshall, same as the buffalo and theIndian. '

"Something about the way he said it sort of made your eyes sting andMarshall says, rough-like, 'I'll think it over and I'd just as soon tellwhat you said to the neighbors, ' Then, while the Boss went up to thehouse to get a drink of water, Marshall says to us, 'He's got a goodshaped head. I wouldn't a made so many fool cracks about him if I'dknown he could be so sort of friendly and decent. '"

During this recital, Mrs. Flynn had drawn near and now with eyes onMurphy she was absently polishing the teaspoons with the dustcloth. 

"Why don't you send some of those folks to me?" she cried. "I'd tell 'ema thing or two about the Big Boss. There's a letter over there now onthe desk from the German government, asking him questions and offeringhim a job. Incompetent!"

"How do you know what's in the letter, Mrs. Flynn?" asked Uncle Denny, with a wink at Murphy. 

"Because I read it, " returned Mrs. Flynn, with shameless candor. "Somebody's got to keep track of the respects that's paid that poor boyor nobody'd ever know it. God knows I hate the Dutch, but they know agood man when they hear of one better than the Americans. And I wish youtwo'd get out of here while I set the table for dinner. "

The two men laughed and got their hats. "I'll meet you at the officeshortly, " said Uncle Denny. "I've a call to make. "

Pen was sitting on the doorstep when Uncle Denny came up. She waslooking very tired and her cheeks were flushed. She rose and led himaway from the tent. 

"Sara is very sick, Uncle Denny. I've given him some morphine, but he'llbe coming out of it soon. Will you telephone from the office for thedoctor?"

"Is it the same old pain?" asked Dennis. 

"Yes, only worse. I--I am to blame, in a way. He has been growing worselately and any excitement is dreadful for him. And then, I struck him, Uncle Denny! I shall never forgive myself for that. And yet, thismorning he laughed at it. He said he never had thought so much of me ashe had for that slap. "

Uncle Denny nodded. "He's deserved it a hundred times, Penny! That nevermade him worse. But this is no place for him. When I go back to NewYork, you and he must go with me. "

"Yes, I have felt the same way, about the excitement here. We'll go whenyou say, Uncle Denny. "

"Is the doctor here a good one?"

"Splendid! A Johns Hopkins man here for his health. "

"What else can I do?" asked Uncle Denny. "Shall I come in and sit withhim?"

"No; ask Mrs. Flynn to come over after dinner. You go out and see thedam and be proud of your boy. "

"And of me girl, " said Uncle Denny. He had been standing with his hat inhis hand and now he bent and kissed Pen's cheek. 

"Erin go bragh!" said Pen. "Uncle Denny, I'm tired! I feel as if I wererunning on one cylinder and three punctured tires. I have to talk thatway after my close association with Bill Evans!"

Uncle Denny had a delightful trip over the Project with Murphy. He dinedwith the upper mess so that Mrs. Flynn could devote herself to Pen. After eating, he started down the great road to the tower foot to meetMurphy. 

Before he came to the tower, however, he came on a group of men hoveringover the canyon edge. Uncle Denny gave an exclamation of pity. A mulewith a pack on its back had slipped off the road and hung far below bythe rope halter that had caught around a projecting rock. The hombre whohad been driving the mule had gone for ropes. 

"See how still he keeps, the old cuss, " said Jack Henderson gently. "Ahorse would have kicked himself to death long ago. That mule knows justwhat's holding him. A mule forgets more in a minute than a horse knowsin a year. "

Uncle Denny almost wept. The mule pressed his helpless forelegs againstthe wall and except that he panted with fright and that his ears movedback and forth as he listened for his hombre's voice, he was motionless. His liquid eyes were fastened on the group above with an appeal thattouched every man there. 

"What can you do for the poor brute!" cried Uncle Denny. 

"Wait till the hombre gets back, " said Henderson. "If he can hang onthat long, we can save him. Nothing like this happens to a mule veryoften. You can't get a mule to try a trail that isn't wide enough forhis pack. They can reason, the old fools! Bill Evans' auto shoved thisfellow over. The steering gear broke. "

At this moment a panting hombre arrived with two coils of rope. The menhastily fastened one rope under the Mexican's arms. He seized the otherand they lowered him into the canyon. He talked to the mule in softSpanish all the way down and the great beast began to answer him withdeep groans. With infinite care, the hombre cut the packs loose and theywent crashing into the river bed. Still the mule did not move. Hisdriver carefully made the rope fast round the mule. The waiting men thendrew the little Mexican up, and when he was safe all hands, includingUncle Denny, drew the mule up. When the big gray reached the road, hetried each leg with a gentle shake, walked over to the inside edge ofthe road and lifted his voice in a bray that shook the heavens. 

The men laughed and patted him. "When I was in the Verde river countryone spring, years ago, " said Henderson, in his tender, singing voice, "Ihad a mule train up in the hills. They was none of them broke and theywouldn't cross the river till I took off my clothes and swam with 'em, one at a time. It was fearful cold. The water was just melted snow and Iwas some mad. But I finally got all but one across. He was a big graylike this. I was so cold and so hungry and so mad, I tied his head up atree and swam off and left him to die. 

"I made camp across the river and two or three times in the night I wokeup and thought of that old gray mule. I was still sore at him, but Imade up my mind I wouldn't go off and leave him to starve to death, that I'd shoot him in the morning. But in the morning I got to lookingat him and I was afraid a shot from across the river would just woundhim. I wouldn't risk my gun again in the water, so I takes off myclothes, takes my knife in my teeth and, " Henderson's voice was verysweet as he scratched the mule's ear, "and swims back to cut his throat. When I got up to him I cussed him out good. And I says, 'I'll give youone more chance. Either you swim or I cut your throat. ' I untied him andthat old gray walked down to the water's edge and you'd ought to see himhustle in and swim! He'd reasoned out I was a man of my word!"

Jim had come up in time to hear the story and when Henderson hadfinished he said: "I've always claimed it was the mules that built thegovernment dams. What would we have done with our fearful trails anddistance and heavy freight without the mule? Some day when I get time, I'll write a rhapsody on the mule. "

The men laughed and made way for the doctor on his horse. But the doctorstopped and spoke very gravely to Uncle Denny. 

"Mrs. Saradokis wants you. Her husband is very low. "

CHAPTER XXV

SARA GOES ON A JOURNEY

 "Love is the speaking voice of the Great Hunger. Happy the human who has found one great love. All nature speaks in him profoundly. "

 MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. 

Jim started up the road but Mr. Dennis stopped long enough to say, "Oughtn't you to be there, doctor?"

The doctor nodded. "I'll be back as soon as I can. They've just broughtan hombre with a crushed leg into the hospital. Mrs. Flynn knows what todo and so does his wife. He may go any time. "

Uncle Denny panted after Jim, but before they reached the tent house, Mrs. Flynn stopped them on the trail. 

"It's all over, " she said. "I've taken Mrs. Penelope over to our house. I'll take charge up here. "

"You don't mean Saradokis is dead?" cried Uncle Denny. 

"He is, God rest his poor wicked soul!"

Jim stood white and rigid. "Did I hasten this with my scene last night, I wonder!" he asked huskily. 

Mrs. Flynn shook her head. "The doctor told me a month ago not to go outof reach of the tent house. That this was liable to come any time. Hecame out of the morphine near noon, held Mrs. Pen's hand and said shehad slapped a lot of the bitterness out of his heart last night. Then hewent to sleep and never woke up. Mr. Dennis, you go to Mrs. Penelope. Boss, you go and do the telegraphing that's necessary. "

It was supper time before Jim could leave the business of the dam andget up to his house. He and Uncle Denny had finished supper when Pencame out of Mrs. Flynn's room. She was white and spent, but she had notbeen crying. 

"Still, " she said, "I want you to persuade Uncle Denny not to go backEast with me and poor Sara. I am perfectly well and quite able to makethe trip alone. Uncle Denny is needed here. "

"It's not to be thought of!" cried Dennis. "When the first shock is overI'm looking for you to go to pieces and I propose to be on the job. "

"Uncle Denny, " said Pen quietly, "I shall not go to pieces. I feel thetragedy of Sara's life very deeply and I am very sad over it all. ButI'm not a widow. I'm a nurse and friend whose job is over. It will be apitiful journey to take Sara back to his father. But I shall be withdear Aunt Mary in New York. I shall get no rest unless I know that youare with Jim in this critical moment of his career. "

The two men looked at each other uncertainly. Suddenly Pen's voiceshook: "Oh, don't make me argue!"

Jim spoke slowly: "We never have regretted doing what Pen told us to, Uncle Denny. It looks heartless, but I guess we'll have to obey. "

"Me soul in me is like a whirling Dervish, " said Uncle Denny, "withboth of you needing me so. You'll have to decide betwixt you. "

"Then Uncle Denny will stay here and we will take you over for the fiveo'clock morning train, Pen. Mrs. Flynn has packed your trunk and poorSara is ready for his last trip. When shall we look for your return, little Penelope?"

Pen looked a little bewildered. "Why, there is no excuse for my comingback. I shall stay with your mother until I get rested and then I mustfind something to do. "

Uncle Denny jumped up and stood with his back to the fireplace while Jimleaned on the back of Pen's chair. 

"Listen to me, children, " said Dennis. "Of what use is it to beat aboutthe bush and refuse to speak what's in the heart of each of us? How canwe pretend that poor Sara's death is not God's own relief to him and us?We can weep, as Pen says, over the tragedy of his life, but not that heis gone. Your talk of going to work is nonsense, me sweet Pen. After afew months you will marry Jim and have the happiness you have earned sodearly. "

Jim did not move. Pen's pale face turned scarlet. "Oh, Uncle Denny, " shecried, "don't talk to me of marriage! I love Jim dearly, but now this isall over I have left only a deadly fear of marriage!"

"Pen! Pen!" exclaimed Uncle Denny. "What do you know of marriage? Forevery unhappy marriage we hear of there are three of such sweetcompanionship that its sharers hide it from the world as if 'twere toosacred for the common gaze. The perfect friendship is between man andwoman and when you add to that the sacrament of body and soul, you havethe only heaven humans may know on earth. And 'tis enough. 'Tis fullcompensation for all the ills of life. "

"Jane Ames has been talking to me that way lately, " said Pen, her eyesfull of tears. "But you nor she never really had your dreams destroyedas I have. " She paused and went on as if half to herself: "And yetnothing has come into my life so revivifying and wholesome as Oscar andJane's finding each other after all these years. Perhaps there issomething in marriage I don't know. Jane says there is. But--Oh, I am sotired!"

Jim moved round to Uncle Denny's side. "It's good of Uncle Denny toplead for me, isn't it, Penny? But you are in no state now to listen tohim or me, either. Go back to mother, and don't work, but play. You'veforgotten how to play. I remember that long ago when Uncle Denny wantedmother to marry him he told her that marrying him would give me mychance to play, that I couldn't come to my full strength without play. Grown-ups need play, too, little Pen. Go back for a while and rest andtake up your tennis again and go to Coney Island with mother. Go andplay, Penny. And some day I'll come back and play with you. "

Pen gave a little sigh. Suddenly her tense nerves relaxed and shesettled back in her chair with a little color in her cheeks. 

Uncle Denny cleared his throat. "Tell Mrs. Flynn to fetch her some teaand toast, me boy. Then she must go to bed for a few hours. "

The automobile, with Henderson at the wheel, was at the door beforedawn. Jim had sent poor Sara on before midnight. Uncle Denny put Penand Jim into the tonneau, then climbed up beside Henderson and themachine shot swiftly out on the great road. 

Pen did not speak for some time and Jim did not disturb her. She lookedback at the Elephant as long as she could discern the great meditativeform in the starlight. Then, after they had gotten into the hills andwere winging like night birds up the mountain road, Jim felt a coldlittle hand slip into his lean, warm paw. 

Jim's heart gave a thud. He leaned forward to look into Pen's face. Itwas dim in the starlight, but he saw that she smiled slightly. Jimleaned back, feeling as if he could overturn worlds with this thrill inhis veins. 

The great road curled like a hair among the dim black mountain tops. Themachine flew lightly. Uncle Denny and Henderson talked quietly, and atlast, under cover of their speech and the whirr of the engine, Pen beganto talk softly to Jim. 

"I am hoping that in the years to come I can remember Sara as a collegeboy, so full of life and ambition! He was a beautiful boy, Still, wasn'the?"

"Yes, little Pen, I loved him very much, then. "

"Life was unfair to him to give him a greater burden than he wasdesigned to bear, " said Pen. "I shall miss the care of him. I am goingto miss the demands he made on my best spiritual effort. I'm going tosag like a fiddle string released. If only he has gone on now to abetter chance! Poor, poor tortured Sara!"

Jim rubbed the little twitching fingers and Pen leaned against hisshoulder softly as though she needed his nearness to steady her. Shewent on a little brokenly:

 "'Envy and calumny and hate and pain And that unrest which men miscall delight Can touch him not and torture not again----'

"I guess I won't get over the scarring, Still. I'm so tired. "

"You've the priceless gift of youth, dear Penny, " said Jim softly. "Goand play, sweetheart. "

There was a long silence. Dawn was marching on the mountain tops. Penelope watched the silver glory of the star-studded sky and she saidin a steadier tone:

 "'Life like a dome of many colored glass Stains the white radiance of Eternity Until death tramples it to fragments----'"

A sudden scarlet revealed itself on a far peak. It was like a marveloustranslucent ruby, set in a silver mist. 

Uncle Denny turned. "Henderson says we are right on the railroad. "

"We are, " replied Jim, "and yonder is the train. "

The automobile drew into the station with the train and Uncle Denny, with Henderson, helped embark poor Sara on his last ride, while Jim putPen aboard the train. Pen followed Jim back onto the train platform. Jimshook hands with her and stood on the lower step waiting for the trainto start. His face in the dawn light was very wistful. Suddenly Pen'slips quivered. Just as the train began to move, "Jim!" she whispered. And she leaned over and caught his face between her hands and kissed himquickly on the lips. Then she slipped into the coach. Jim dropped offthe train and stood staring unseeingly at Uncle Denny and Henderson. Ato-hee sang its morning song from a nearby cactus:

 "O yahee! O yahai! Sweet as arrow weed in spring!"

"Put your hat on, me boy, " said Uncle Denny, who had not seen the littleepisode, "and come on. " He led the way to the machine and climbed inbeside Jim. "Well, Still, she's gone!"

Jim turned and looked at his Uncle Denny. "She's not gone for long. WhenI have finished the Project fight I shall go after her. "

"Did she agree?" asked Uncle Denny eagerly. 

"No, " said Jim serenely. "She's in the frame of mind that's to beexpected after the life she's lived with Sara. She is afraid ofeverything. After the election, I shall go to her. She and I have missedenough of each other. "

Dennis brought his fist down on his knee. "Then that's settled right, thank God!" he said to the dawn at large. 

The next day Mrs. Ames came up to the dam. She was inconsolable that shehad not been sent for, to help Pen and Mrs. Flynn's air of superioritywas not soothing. Uncle Denny took to Mrs. Ames at once. 

"I've done nothing but gad for Mr. Manning, lately, " she said. 

"How are things going?" asked Mrs. Flynn. "Has Bill Evans got all themoney yet?"

"Eh? What's this?" exclaimed Uncle Denny. 

"Mrs. Pen thought it would do a lot of good if we could get thefarmers' wives to working against Fleckenstein, " said Jane. "I've beencalling on a lot of them. Bill Evans takes me in his auto. "

"Who pays Bill?" asked Uncle Denny. "Ames?"

"He does not, though he honestly offered to, " said Jane. "This is awoman's job. Mrs. Flynn is paying for it. And don't you tell Mr. Manning. So far he hasn't asked any questions. Oscar says he's tooworried over other things. "

"Bless us!" cried Uncle Denny. "That won't do! You must let mestraighten it up. "

Mrs. Flynn rapped on the table with the dripping mixing spoon with whichshe had followed Jane in from the kitchen. "Michael Dennis! You willnot! What's me money for if it ain't for him? Ain't he all I've got inthe wide world and you grutch me that? God knows I never thought I'dcome to this to be told I couldn't do for him! If God lets me live tospare my life I hope to spend every cent I've got back on the Boss. "

Uncle Denny nodded. "All right! You're a good woman, Mrs. Flynn. How isyour campaign going, Mrs. Ames?"

Jane shook her head. "You never know which way a woman will jump. Ifonly Fleckenstein can be beaten, it will be Mr. Manning's personalitythat beats him, and after that he can do whatever he wants to with thevalley. But the election is only a little way off and I'm scared todeath. I've talked and visited until I'm ashamed of myself. And there'sonly one woman in the valley I'm sure of. "

"Who is she?" asked Uncle Denny. 

"That's Mrs. Cady, a rich widow who lives near Cabillo. She's theterror of the valley. She's a scold and she holds half the mortgages inthe county. She stopped Mr. Manning a while ago and asked what he meantby running one of the canals the way it was. Then, just because he'salways nice to a woman, Mr. Manning stands and lets her explain hisbusiness to him for half an hour. When she got through he thanked herand said it was always wise to trust a woman's intuition. She thoughtshe'd taught him a real valuable lesson and she said he was the only manshe ever saw that knew good advice when he got it. Well, when I wentround to her the other day and told her what Mr. Manning was up against, she flew round like a wet hen. I've heard she threatened to foreclose onanyone that voted for Fleckenstein. "

Uncle Denny chuckled. "And the boy thinks he has no friends!"

The fight into which Jim had thrown himself was an intangible one. Heknew that he could not save his job for himself, but he believed that ifhe could defeat Fleckenstein, he would have made the farmers assume aresponsibility for the Project that would never be lost. 

Uncle Denny did not tell Jim that he knew that every day lessened Jim'sterm of office on the dam. He asked no embarrassing questions. One day, as they stood looking at the dam slowly emerging from the river bed tolie in the utter beauty of strength at the Elephant's feet, Jim said:

"I wonder if another man will love the dam as I have. There is not astone in it that I don't know and care for. "

But Uncle Denny only nodded and said in reply, "A man must love thething he creates whether it's a dam or a child. " But his heart achedwithin him. 

The Department of Agriculture had responded immediately and half a dozenexperts already were at work on the Project. The older farmers resentedany suggestions that were made regarding their methods, but little bylittle the newcomers were turning to the experts, and Jim believed thateven in a year scientific farming would be a settled fact on theProject. 

Every moment that Jim could spare from hastening the work on the dam hespent in the valley with the farmers. He did not harangue. He had cometo realize that deep within us all dwells a hunger of the soul on which, when roused, the world wings forward. So he induced these men to talk tohim and listened, wondering at the deeps he touched. He did not realizethat often they were ashamed to show him narrowness or selfishness whenthrough his wistful silence they glimpsed his unsatisfied visioning. Nothing in life is so contagious as a great dream. 

As far as the Project was concerned, the story of Jim's allegedinterview with Freet made little impression, after all. Insinuations andaccusations had appeared so often about the engineers of the dam in thelocal papers that they had ceased to be a sensation. In the East, though, Jim knew the story would leave its permanent imprint. Murphyinterviewed Fleckenstein and never would tell what he and the politiciansaid to each other. But the threat of the letter never was carried out. Fleckenstein continued a vigorous campaign, however. Money and whiskeyflowed freely and Fleckenstein saw every man that Jim saw. 

Uncle Denny was only temporarily dismayed by Jim's refusal to allow himto work openly against Fleckenstein. Mrs. Ames, having come to the endof her talking capacity, he hired Bill Evans and his machine for theremaining six weeks of the campaign. Bill was quite willing to let thehogs go hungry while he and his machine were in demand. 

Uncle Denny said: "A twenty-mile ride in Bill's tonneau is better as aflesh reducer than ten hours in a Turkish bath. It is the truth when Itell folks I'm riding for me health. "

Uncle Denny made himself newsgetter-in-chief for Jim. He scoured thevalley for reports on the state of mind of every water user and businessman on the Project. Oscar and Murphy, when not with Jim, devotedthemselves to Uncle Denny. Both the men were frankly giving all theirtime to the Project these days. 

The weeks sped by all too rapidly. One evening Uncle Denny called aconference at Jim's house. Jim, coming home from the office at teno'clock that night, found Murphy and Henderson and Oscar awaiting himwith Uncle Denny as master of ceremonies. 

"Me boy, " said Uncle Denny, "there's going to be a landslide forFleckenstein. "

Jim nodded. "I think so. Well, anyhow, I've made one or two friendsbelow who'll remember after I'm gone some of the things I've wanted forthe Project. "

Uncle Denny, standing before the grate, looked at Jim in a troubled way. The Big Boss, as he loved to call Jim, was looking very tired. 

"Well, " said Murphy, "Fleckenstein can't make much trouble for a year. Even after he takes his seat it will take time to start things even withthe money from the Trust. And in the meantime the Big Boss will be ableto put up a great counter-irritant out here if what he's done the lastfew weeks is any sample. "

Jim lighted his pipe and leaned back in his chair. "I won't be here, boys, " he said. "This is confidential. I have been asked for myresignation and it takes effect the day after election. "

There was utter silence in the room for a moment, then Henderson leanedforward and spat past Uncle Denny into the grate. 

"Hell's fire!" he said gently. 

"How long have you known this, Boss?" asked Murphy. 

"Nearly three months, " answered Jim. 

"Pen told me, " said Dennis. "Suma-theek told her. "

Jim looked up in astonishment, then he shook his head. "I'm sorry Penhas that to bother her, too. "

Murphy jumped to his feet. "And you have known this three months andnever told us! Is that any way to treat your friends? Do you suppose wewant to lie by and see you licked off this dam like a yellow cur? It'sno use for you to ask this to be kept quiet, Boss. I won't do it. "

Jim rose and pointed his pipe at Murphy. "Murphy, if you try to use thisconfidential talk to raise sentiment for me, I'll fire you!"

"You can't fire my friendship!" shouted Murphy. "You can have my job anytime you want it!"

Here Oscar Ames spoke for the first time. "When's Mrs. Penelope comingback?"

"Don't you get her out here, " said Jim. "She can do no good and sheneeds peace and quiet. "

CHAPTER XXVI

THE END OF THE SILENT CAMPAIGN

 "The dream in them of a greater good lifts humans from the level of brutes. Take this dream from them and they are like quenched comets. "

 MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. 

It was Oscar's turn to get to his feet. "Manning, " he said, "ain't youlearned your lesson yet? Who was it kicked me out of the dirty politicalscrape I was getting into and made me see straight? Huh? Who was it?Well, it was my wife. And who woke my wife up? It was Mrs. Pen, wasn'tit? And who, by your own admission, showed you things you'd been seeingcrooked all your life? Huh? 'Twas Mrs. Pen, wasn't it? You're asmoss-bound in lots of ways as a farmer. Now I've learned my lesson. I'mwilling to admit that women folks has got intuitions that beat our fineideas all hollow. She may not do us any good. But I want to know whatshe thinks about things. I'll be yelling votes for women next. Gimme heraddress. I'm going to send her a night message they'll have to use anadding machine to count the words in. "

"What can be done in a week?" asked Jim, with his first show ofirritation. "I won't have her bothered, I tell you. "

"Still Jim, " said Uncle Denny, "do you suppose she's thought of anythingelse but the situation out here, excepting, of course, poor Sara? AndPen's Irish! Even long distance fighting has charms for her. "

Henderson looked at Jim's dark circled eyes and his compressed lips. "Goto bed, Boss, " he said in his tender voice. "See if you can't get somesleep. You have done your best. Is there anyone in the valley you ain'tseen yet?"

"Two or three, " said Jim. 

"See them, " said Henderson. "We are going to put up a fight to keep youhere, Mr. Manning. "

Jim started for his bedroom door, then he came back and said slowly: "Idon't want you fellows to misunderstand me. I'm the least important itemin this matter. I admit that it's crucifying me to leave the dam, butthere is no doubt they can find a better man than I am for the job. Iwoke up too late. You folks must keep on in one last fight againstFleckenstein. For Fleckenstein stands for repudiation. Repudiation meansthe undermining of the basic principle of the Reclamation Service. Andthe loss of that principle means the loss of the Projects as a greatworking ideal for America. It was that principle that was the realkernel of the New England dream in this country. We've got to work notso much for equality in freedom as for equality in responsibility to thenation. Don't waste a moment on keeping me here. Make one last effort todefeat Fleckenstein. "

Then Jim went into his room and closed the door. 

When he had gone, Murphy said in a low voice: "It's too late to lickFleckenstein. Are we going to lie down on the Boss losing his job, boys?"

"Not till I've beaten the face off Fleckenstein, " said Henderson, softly. 

"I want to get in touch with Mrs. Pen, " said Oscar Ames. 

"Aw, forget it, Ames!" said Murphy. "I don't doubt she's a smart girl, but this is no suffragette meeting. "

"Don't try to start anything, " said Oscar. "Wait till you're married forthirty years like me and maybe you'll have learned a thing or two. "

"Don't quarrel, boys, " said Uncle Denny. "Me heart is like lead withinme. How can I think of Jim as anywhere but with the Service?"

"If he goes, I go, " said Henderson. "The only reason I stayed up on theMakon was because of him. What's the matter with the wooden heads inthis country? I'd like to be fool killer for a year. "

Murphy was chewing his cigar. "You'd have to commit suicide if you was, "he said. "I've tried everything against Fleckenstein except the one wayto swing votes in America and that's with whiskey or dollars. Under thecircumstance we can't use either. I'm going to turn in. I'm at the endof my rope. "

Henderson followed Murphy to the door. Oscar Ames forgot to lower hisvoice. He squared his big shoulders and shouted: "You blame quitters! Iain't ashamed to ask women for ideas if you are. The women got me intothis fight and I'll bet they get me out. "

He nodded belligerently at Uncle Denny and strode out into the night. Uncle Denny, left alone in the living room, stood long on the hearthrug, talking to himself and now and again shaking his head despondently. 

"I mind how after he found himself, he was always making trails in frontof the old fireplace in the brownstone front. I mind how he first heardof the Reclamation Service. 'How'd you like that, Uncle Denny, ' he said, 'James Manning, U. S. R. S. ' What'll he do now, poor lad?

"Thank God his father's dead, for if he felt worse than I do he'd killhimself. No! No! I'll not say that! He'd have felt like meself that'twas worth all the sorrow to hear Still put his idea ahead of himselfas he did tonight. That's the test of a man's sincerity. And in herheart, his mother'll be glad. She's always worried lest he get killed onone of his dams, bless her heart. "

Uncle Denny moved about the room, closing the door and putting away thecigars. He picked Jim's hat off the floor and patted it softly as hehung it up. 

"What'll he do now, poor boy?" he murmured. Then he turned out the lightand went to bed. 

Jim received a message the next morning, saying that a certain HerrGluck would reach the dam that afternoon. 

"And who is he?" asked Uncle Denny. 

"He's an engineer the German government is sending over to see some ofthe stunts I've been doing on the dam, " said Jim. "I'll show him round, then I'll turn him over to you for the hour before supper. I want to seeold Miguel, who is coming up to the dam. "

"I'm itching to lay hands on him. Does he speak English?"

Jim laughed. "Better than I do. He's written me a couple of times. "

Jim brought Herr Gluck in over the great road. The German was full ofenthusiasm. "Blasted from solid rock! How not like America! This wasbuilt for the future! How did you come to do it?"

Jim smiled and shrugged his shoulders. 

"You belong not to this country, " Herr Gluck went on, "you belong to theold world where they build for their descendants. "

Jim thoroughly enjoyed the long afternoon on the dam with the German. Herr Gluck's questions were searching and invigorating. They took Jimout of himself and he showed Herr Gluck a scientific knowledge andenthusiasm that few people were fitted to appreciate. 

At five o'clock Jim took Herr Gluck up to his house and turned him overto Uncle Denny. The rotund, flaxen-haired German and the rotund, gray-haired Irishman took stock of each other. Uncle Denny moved twochairs before the open door. 

Herr Gluck sat down. "Himmel! What beauty!" he exclaimed, as the faintlavender distances with the far mountains flashing sunset gold met hisgaze. "Not strange that Mr. Manning has enthusiasm. "

Uncle Denny sighed in a relieved way as if he had catalogued thenewcomer. 

"They say, " said Dennis, "that a man must close his soul to the BigCountry or else he will become great or go mad. And do you think me boyhas done good work here, Herr Gluck?"

The German made some extraordinary rings of smoke and nodded his headslowly. "He has done some daring things well that may not be great inthemselves, but they show imagination. That is the point. He hasimagination. Many are the engineers who are accurate, who aretrustworthy, but imagination, creative ability, no! You observe theshape of his head, his jaw, his hands--the dreamer, urged into action. And the impudence of his sand-cement idea! In my country we dare makeour concrete only very rich. He shows me this afternoon that dilutedrightly with sand, cement can be made stronger. " Herr Gluck chuckleddelightedly. 

Uncle Denny almost purred. "He was so as a lad. He was captain of hisschool football teams because he could think of more wild tactics thanall the rest of them put together. And always got away with them, looking sad and never an unnecessary word. "

Herr Gluck nodded. "He is so valuable here that I think it not possibleI get him to come to Germany yet?"

Michael Dennis got red in the face and took a long breath. "But theydon't appreciate him here. He's been asked to resign in a few days now. "

The German's round eyes grew rounder. "Nein! And why? Has he got intofoolishness? He is young, they must remember. "

"It's a long tale, " said Uncle Denny, "but I'll tell it to you, " and heplunged into the story of the Project. 

Herr Gluck listened breathlessly. 

"And so you see, " Dennis ended, "that for all he has done he feels he'sfailed, for everything the dam has stood for in his mind has come tonaught. And that's a bad feeling for a man as young as Jim. He'll neverreadjust himself, Jim won't. He can get another job but his life's bigdream will have gone to smash. His inspiration will be gone. And whatwill he do then, poor boy?"

"But it's impossible, " persisted Herr Gluck. "He's a valuable man. It isnot possible they would dismiss him. Some day when he is older he willdo great things your country can't afford to lose. What is the matterwith your Head of the Service?"

"Impossible!" snorted Uncle Denny. "Impossible! The word is not in thevocabulary of the American politician. The Director is all right, a fineclean fellow. But he can't help himself. It's either Jim or the Projectto be smirched. They won't be satisfied, the politicians, till they getthe Service attached to the Spoils system. What do they care forscientific achievement? Soul of me soul! I'd like to be Secretary of theInterior for fifteen minutes. I'd discharge everyone in the Department, ending with meself. "

Herr Gluck was visibly excited. "I tell you it is not possible! He's agreat engineer in the making? They cannot know it or they would not sodo. "

Uncle Denny lost patience. "I'm telling you it is so! Don't you knowthat nothing is impossible to ignorant men?" he shouted. "Didn'tignorance crucify Christ? Didn't the ignorant make Galileo deny hisworld was round? Didn't ignorance burn Joan of Arc at the stake? Everyadvance the world has made has been with bloody footsteps. Don't wealways kill the man in the vanguard and use his body as a bridge tocross the gulf of our own fear and ignorance? I tell you, I fearignorance!"

Herr Gluck rose and shook his plump fist in Uncle Denny's face. "Thoseare days gone by in my country, " he roared. "They may be true in thisraw land or in besotted Ireland, but in the Fatherland we worship brain. Do not include the Fatherland in your recriminations! Once in a whileyou accomplish great things in your foolish country here with itshysteria and frothing and bubbling. But come to my country if you wouldsee the quiet patient advance of noble science with scientists reveredlike kings. "

"There were colleges in Ireland, " shouted Uncle Denny, "when yourancestors were wearing fur breech clouts and using cairns for books!"

Jim came slowly up the trail and Uncle Denny and Herr Gluck sat down alittle sheepishly. Herr Gluck did not waste any time in preliminaries asJim came in the door. 

"Your Uncle tells me of the trouble here on the dam, " he said. "Mygovernment is undertaking some great work which I will describe to you. We will make you a formal offer if you will it consider. "

Jim sat down in the doorway, pulled off his hat and looked up into theGerman's face. Herr Gluck concisely and clearly outlined the work. Jimlistened intently, then as Herr Gluck finished and waited for Jim'sanswer, the young engineer looked away. 

He saw the Elephant dominating the river and desert, guarding andwaiting--for what? Jim wondered. He saw the far road that he had built, winding into the dim mountains. For a long time he sat battling withhimself in the flood of emotion that rose within him. It really hadcome, he realized, with Herr Gluck's offer. He actually was to turn hiswork over to another man to finish. The two older men watched himintently. 

Finally Jim said: "The New England stock in this country isdisappearing, Herr Gluck. Perhaps we are no longer needed. At any ratewe haven't been strong enough to stay. This dam has been more than a damto me. It has meant something like, 'Anglo-Saxons; their mark; by JimManning. ' Some other man will finish the dam quite as well as I, but Idon't think he will have my dream about it. "

Herr Gluck leaned forward and said: "We all are Teutons, one family. That is why we always have quarreled. But we understand each other. Cometo Germany and build for other Teutons, since they will not have youhere. "

"An expatriate! Poor dad!" muttered Jim. Then he said, in his quietdrawl, "I'll come, but you'll be getting only half a man. "

The German looked away. He was a scientist, yet he was of a nation thathad produced Goethe as well as Weismann and his heart was quick torespond to truth, shot with the rainbow tints of vision. 

"I know!" he said. "I know! Man needs the impulse of national pride andhonor behind his mind. There are those that claim that they achieve forhuman kind and not for their own race alone. But I doubt it. After all, Goethe spoke for Deutschland, Darwin spoke for England. Therefrom cametheir greatness. And yet if they will not have you here, dearfriend--Ach Himmel, I cannot urge thee! Come if thou wilt!"

Herr Gluck broke off abruptly to turn to Uncle Denny. "Who is thehighest authority in this Service?"

"The Secretary of the Interior, " said Uncle Denny. "Come, we must eatsupper or Mrs. Flynn will be using force on us. "

Jim took Herr Gluck over to the midnight train. The German was veryquiet, but Jim was even more so. As Jim left him Herr Gluck said: "Keepa good heart, dear friend. I shall say a few truths myself before I havefinished. "

Jim shook hands heartily. "There is nothing to be done, Herr Gluck, butI'm grateful for your sympathy. You will hear from me about the newwork, " and he drove off in the darkness, leaving Herr Gluck in the handsof the ranchers Marshall and Miguel, who had spent the afternoon andevening at the dam, and were going to Cabillo by train. 

Jim had received no answer from the Secretary of the Interior to hislast letter. He was a little puzzled and hurt. There had been oneflashing look pass between himself and the Secretary at the May hearingthat had stayed with Jim as though it had declared a friendship thatneeded neither words nor personal association to give it permanence. Jimhad counted on that friendship, not to save him his job, but to save hisidea. No answer had come to his letter. Jim believed that the story ofthe interview with Freet had finally destroyed the Secretary's faith inhis integrity. 

Pen had written a long letter jointly to Jim and Uncle Denny some twoweeks after leaving the dam. It was the first word they had had exceptthrough telegrams. Sara's will had been read. He had left Pen all hisproperty, which was enough to yield a living income for her. Penenclosed a copy of the note Sara had left her with his papers. 

"You have always felt bitter at my stinginess. But I knew that I couldnot live long and I wanted to repay you for your care of me. I did notspend an unnecessary cent nor did I let you. I have been ugly but itdidn't matter to you. I knew you didn't care for me and so I didn't tryto be decent. "

Uncle Denny shook his head over this note. "No human soul but has itswhite side, and there you are! I hope I'll never sit in judgment onanother human being. "

"Has she any comment on Sara's note?" asked Jim, who was resting on thecouch while Uncle Denny read the letter to him. 

Uncle Denny looked on the reverse side of the sheet. Pen had written:"This touches me very much. But when I consider the sources of poorSara's money I can't bear to touch it. I am arranging to give it to thehome for paralytic children. I hope that both of you will approve of mydoing so. "

The two men stared at each other and Jim said nothing. He was consumedby such a longing for Pen that he scarcely dared speak her name. ButUncle Denny nodded complacently and said:

"You can always bet on Pen!"

The day after Herr Gluck's visit there was to be a political rally ofthe Fleckenstein forces at Cabillo. To the great relief of Dennis andhis two henchmen, Jim made no move to attend the meeting. The firstconcrete pouring on the last section of the foundation was to be madethat day and Jim was engrossed with it. Fleckenstein was late in gettingto the meeting. This, too, was better luck than the three conspiratorshad hoped for. The meeting was made up almost entirely of farmers whowanted to hear Fleckenstein's last statement of his pledges. 

Before the chairman called the meeting to order, Oscar Ames mounted theplatform and asked permission to say a few words while the audiencewaited for Fleckenstein. Oscar then put forth the great effort of hislife. 

He squared his great shoulders and threw back his tawny head. 

"Fellow citizens, there is a great disgrace coming onto this community. You all know the Project engineer, James Manning. Well, there ain't beenanyone who's fought him harder or made him more trouble till lately thanI have. But lately, fellow citizens, I've got to know him. I tell youright now that he's the smartest fellow that ever come into these parts. He's got some ideas that I'm not smart enough myself to understand, butI do know enough to realize that if he gets a chance to carry them outhe'll make this Project the center of America!"

Oscar paused and someone called, "Go it, Oscar! Throw her in to low andyou'll make it!"

"Well, fellow citizens, Fleckenstein and his crowd and all the rest ofus, helping with kicks, have worked it so that Jim Manning has beenasked to resign. They tell him that he's so unpopular here that theService can't afford to keep him. Understand that? In other words, wefarmers are such fools that we can't appreciate a good man just becausehis ideas differ from ours. But we can go crazy over a man likeFleckenstein because he'll take the trouble to jolly us. Fellowcitizens, I ask you, are you going to sit by while the man that wouldmake this Project into a valley empire is kicked out?"

Oscar stood for a moment glaring at his grinning hearers. Murphy climbedup beside him and shoved him aside. 

"Down with the Irish!" yelled someone. 

"You never paid me the fifty dollars you ran up for whiskey in mysaloon, Henry, " replied Murphy. 

There was a roar of laughter and Murphy followed it quickly. "You allknow me. I was in the saloon business in this valley for twenty years. But not one of you can say I wasn't on the straight all that time. Thenearest I ever come to doing a man dirt was up in the dam. I was runninga saloon just off the Reserve and Big Boss Manning jumped me and made meclean out my own joint. I was mad and I went up to the Greek there, whosince is dead, for I heard the Greek was backed by Big Money with whichhe backed Fleckenstein to do the Service. Says I to myself, I'll helpthe Greek to do Manning. 

"But the Greek cursed me out as I'll stand from no man. Then they tookme to Manning and he treated me like a gentleman and asked me for myword of honor to keep off the Project. I know men. And I saw that thefellow I'd set out to do was a real man, carrying a load that was toobig for the likes of me to sabez and that it made him sad and lonely. Iwas sick of the saloon business, anyhow, and when I got his number, Iwas proud to have been licked by him. Do you get me? Proud! And I says, I'm his friend for life and I'll just keep an eye on the pikers who aretrying to do him. 

"And I have. You know me, boys. You know that after the priest and thedoctor it's the saloonkeeper that knows a man's number. Let me tell youthat Fleckenstein is a crook. He'll steal anything from a woman's honorto a water power site. He's playing you folks for suckers. He's havingeverything his own way. Charlie Ives is the only fellow who's had thenerve to run against Fleckenstein and he's a dead one. 

"And now Fleckenstein has done the Big Boss. He's made monkeys of youfarmers. He's got you to roasting Manning till you've ruined him. Andthey ain't one of us fit to black his boots. This Project is his life'sblood to him. There isn't anything he would[n't] sacrifice to itswelfare. And you're throwing him out. Ain't a man's sacrifice worthanything to you? Will you take his best and give him the Judas kiss inreturn? Are ye hogs or men?"

There was an angry buzz in the room. Just as Uncle Denny started uponthe platform, a tall lank farmer whom the man next him had been nudgingviolently, rose. 

"My name's Marshall, " he said, "and my friend Miguel here says I gottaget up and say the few things he and I agreed on last night. I'm mightysick of hearing us farmers called fools. And now even the women folkshave begun it. When our wives won't give us any peace maybe it's time wereformed our judgments. I'm willing to say that I think I've beenmistaken about Manning. He came over to my place for the first time afew weeks back. I never talked with him before or got a good look athim. Boys, a man don't get the look that that young fella has on hisface unless he's full of ideas that folks will kick him for. I felt kindof worked up about him then, but I didn't do anything. 

"Last night I rode down to Cabillo with a Dutchman, some big bug who'dbeen up at the dam. I'd just been up there with Miguel. He told us thatJim Manning is attracting notice in the old country by the work he'sdoing on this dam. And he roasted us as samples of fat cattle who'd leta man like Manning go. At least that's what I made out, for he was somad he talked Dutch a lot. Miguel and I made up our minds then that we'dgot in wrong. What has this fellow Fleckenstein ever done for us? Is hegoing to get us branded over the country as a bunch that'll jump anhonest debt? It looks to me as if Manning had done more for us than weknew. I'm willing to give Manning a new chance. I move we turn thismeeting into a Manning meeting and I move we send a petition to theSecretary of the Interior to keep Manning on the job. "

CHAPTER XXVII

THE THUMB PRINT

 "I have been buffeted by the ages until I dominate the desert. So do the ages buffet one another until they produce a dominating man. "

 MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT. 

Uncle Denny was on the platform before Marshall had ceased speaking. 

"Friends, Mr. Marshall has said the thing we had in mind to present tothis meeting. It was to be me share to ask you for a petition. 'Twill bethe pride of Still Jim's life that the request came from a farmer andnot from me. If all here will sign and if every man here will makehimself responsible for the signatures of his neighbors, the thing canbe done in a few days and we will wire the matter to the Secretary ofthe Interior. Friends, I'd rather see the tide turn for Jim than to seeHome Rule in Ireland!"

The tide had turned. One of those marvelous changes of sentiment thatsometimes sweep a community began in the wild applause that greeted thetender little closing of Uncle Denny's speech. When Fleckenstein arrivedan hour late, he found an empty hall. His audience had dispersed toscour the valleys for signatures for Jim. 

Uncle Denny came home to the dam, tired but with the first ray of hopein his heart that he had had for a long time. The petition might notinfluence the authorities and yet the sentiment it raised might defeatFleckenstein at the last. At any rate, it was something to work forthese last hard days of Jim's régime. 

Jim had seen the last farmer and was devoting the final days of his stayon the dam to urging the work forward that he might leave as full arecord behind him as his broken term permitted. Wrapped in his work andhis grief, Jim did not hear of the existence of the petition. Hendersonhad spread word among the workmen of Jim's intended departure. No onecared to speak of the matter to Jim. Something in his stern, sad youngface forbade it. But there was not a man on the job from associateengineer to mule driver who did not throw himself into his work with anabandon of energy that drove the work forward with unbelievablerapidity. All that his men could do to help Jim's record was to be done. 

For three days before the election Henderson scarcely slept. He tried tobe on all three shifts. "I even eat my meals from a nose bag, " he toldUncle Denny sadly. 

"And what's a nose bag?" asked Uncle Denny. 

"A nose bag is the thing you tie on a horse for him to get his grubfrom. Also it's the long yellow bag the cook puts the night shift'slunch in. But I'd starve if 'twould keep the Boss on the job. I'd evendrink one of Babe's cocktails. "

Henderson waited for Uncle Denny's "Go ahead with the story, " then hebegan sadly:

"Algernon Dove was Babe's real name. He was an English remittance-manhere in the early days. The Smithsonian folks came down here and wantedto get someone to go out with them to collect desert specimens, rattlers, Gila monsters, hydrophobia skunks and such trash. Babe andAlkali Ike, his running mate, went with them. They took a good outfit, the Smithsonian folks did, and in one wagon they took a barrel ofalcohol and dumped the reptiles into it as fast as they found them. Theygot a good bunch, little by little, snakes and horned toads andhydrophobia skunks. In about two weeks they was ready to come back. Thenthey noticed the bad smell. "

Henderson paused. "What was the matter?" asked Uncle Denny. 

"Babe and Ike had been drinking the alcohol, day by day, " he answered inhis musical voice. "The barrel just did 'em two weeks. Just because Italk foolish talk, Mr. Dennis, ain't a sign that I don't feel bad. Idon't want the Boss to speak to me or I'll cry. "

The day of the election was a long one for Jim. He packed his trunk andhis personal papers and Mrs. Flynn began to wrap the legs of the chairsin newspapers. Her tears threatened to reduce each wrapping to pulpbefore she completed it. In the afternoon, Jim started for a last tourof the dam. He covered the work slowly, looking his last at the detailsover which he had toiled and dreamed so long. He walked slowly up fromthe lower town. The men who passed him glanced away as if they would notintrude on his trouble. 

The work on the dam was going forward as though life and death dependedon the amount accomplished by this particular shift. Jim wasinexpressibly touched by this display of the men's good will, but hecould think of no way to show his feeling. 

Just at sunset he climbed the Elephant's back. But he was not to havethis last call alone. Old Suma-theek was sitting on the edge of thecrater, his fine face turned hawklike toward the distance. Jim nodded tohis friend, then sat down in his favorite spot where, far across thecanyon, he could see the flag, rippling before the office. 

After a time, the old Indian came over to sit beside him. He followedJim's gaze and said softly:

"That flag it heap pretty but wherever Injun see it he see sorrow anddeath for Injun. "

Jim answered slowly: "Perhaps we're being paid for what we've done toyou, Suma-theek. The white tribe that made the flag is going, just as wehave made you go. The flag will always look the same, but the dream itwas made to tell will go. "

"Who sabez the way of the Great Spirit? He make you go. He make Injungo. He make nigger and Chinamans stay. Perhaps they right, you and Injunwrong. Who sabez?"

"I'd like to have finished my dam, " Jim muttered. "Somehow we areinadequate. I woke up too late. " And suddenly a deeper significance cameto him of Pen's verse--

 "Too late for love, too late for joy; Too late! Too late! You loitered on the road too long, You trifled at the gate----"

"When you old like Suma-theek, " said the Indian, "you sabez then nothingmatter except man make his tribe live. Have children or die! That theGreat Spirit's law for tribes. "

Jim said no more. The daily miracle of the sunset was taking place. Anearly snow had capped the far mountain peaks and these now flashed anunearthly silver radiance against the crimson heavens. Old Jezebelwandered remotely, a black scratch across a desert of blood red. Distance indefinable, beauty indescribable, once more these quickenedJim's pulse. Almost, almost he seemed to catch the key to the MasterDream and then--the scarlet glow changed to purple, and night began itsmarch across the sands. 

Jim made his way down the trail and up to his house. Waiting at his doorwere three of his workmen. They were young fellows, fresh shaved andwearing white collars. Jim invited them in and they followed awkwardly. They took the cigars he offered and then shifted uneasily while Jimstood on the hearth rug regarding them with his wistful smile. He wasnot so very many years older than they. 

"Boss, " finally began one of the men, "us fellows heard a few days agothat you were going to leave. We wanted to do something to show we likedyou and what a--d--doggone shame it is you're going and--and we didn'thave time to buy anything, but we made up a purse. Every rough-neck onthe job contributes, Boss; they wanted to. Here's about two hundreddollars. We'd like to have you buy something you can remember us by. "

The spokesman stopped, perspiring and breathless. His two companionscame forward and one of them laid on the table a cigar box which, whenopened, showed a pile of bills and coins. Jim's face worked. 

"Boys, " said Jim huskily, "boys--I'm no speaker! What can I say to youexcept that this kindness takes away some of the sting of going. I'llbuy something I can take with me wherever I go. "

"Don't try to say nothing, Boss, " said the spokesman. "I know what itis. I laid awake all night fixing up what I just said. "

"It was a darned good speech, " replied Jim. "Don't forget me, boys. Whenyou finish the dam remember it was my pipe dream to have finished itwith you. "

The three shook hands with Jim and made for the door. Jim stood staringat the money, smiling but with wet eyes, when Bill Evans' automobileexploded up to the house. Uncle Denny was sitting in the tonneau withtwo other men. Jim walked slowly out to the road. One of the men was theSecretary of the Interior; the other, a slender, keen-faced young man, was his private secretary. Jim's face was white in the dusk. 

"Well, young man, " said the Secretary, "you have been having somestrenuous times since the Hearing. And for a man reputed to beunpopular, you have some good friends. "

Bill Evans, almost bursting with importance, undid the binding wire thatfastened the door of the tonneau and the Secretary arose. 

"If you had telegraphed me, Mr. Secretary, " Jim began with a reproachfulglance at Uncle Denny. 

"On me soul, Jimmy, " said Uncle Denny, "I didn't know. I went over withBill to meet someone else and----"

The Secretary laughed as he followed Jim. As Jim held open the door hesaid: "I didn't want to wire you, Mr. Manning. I wanted to find you onthe ground, steeped in your iniquities. You have nice quarters, " headded, sitting down comfortably before the grate fire. Then his eye fellon the cigar box full of money. "Ah, is that a part of the loot I hearyou've been getting?"

Jim looked at the Secretary uncertainly. He was a large man with thekeen blue eyes and the firm mouth in a smooth-shaven face that Jimremembered was like a fine set mask. Jim got nothing from staring intohis distinguished guest's quiet eyes. 

"This is a gift from the workmen on the dam, " said Jim. "I am to buysomething to remember them by. There are about two hundred dollarsthere, they tell me. "

The Secretary nodded. "I am glad to hear that the men like you, Mr. Manning. What have you--Come in, madam!" The Secretary nodded to Mrs. Flynn, who had paused in the door with a tray load of dishes. She pausedand looked uncertainly at Jim. 

"Supper for four tonight, Mrs. Flynn, " said Jim. "We have the Secretaryof the Interior with us. "

"My heavens!" gasped Mrs. Flynn. "God knows I never meant to intrude. "

The Secretary laughed so richly and so heartily that all but Mrs. Flynnjoined him. She gave the group of men a look of utter scorn, and said:

"I suppose if the Lord and the twelve disciples had dropped inunexpected, you men would think it funny and me with me legs all wrappedup in newspapers!" Then she bolted for the kitchen. 

The Secretary wiped his eyes. "I hope I haven't seriously upset yourhousehold, " he said to Jim. 

Jim shook his head. "Your coming will be one of the great events of herlife. Supper will be late but it will be well worth eating. "

"Then, " said the Secretary, "let us continue our private hearing. Whathave you been trying to do here on the dam, Mr. Manning?"

Jim stood on the hearth rug and glanced at each of the three men seatedbefore him, his gaze finally resting on the Secretary's face. 

"At first, " he said, "I merely wanted to build the dam. I called it theThumb-print that I would leave on the map, that should be emblematic ofthe old trail-making Puritan. But by a persistent indifference to theirprejudices and to their personal wishes and welfare, I antagonized allthe farmers on the Project. "

Jim paused, hesitated and then went on. "The woman whom I shall one daymarry pointed out to me that my attitude here was typical of the generalattitude of the so-called Old Stock here in America. She said that I waswilling to build the dam but unwilling to sacrifice time or effort toadministering it, to showing the farmer how to handle the fine, essentially democratic, idea that was in the Reclamation idea. She saidthat we had formed the government in America and left it to others toadminister and that of this we were dying. "

Jim stopped and the Secretary said, "She seems intelligent, this youngwoman. "

Jim's smile was flashing and tender as he said, "She is!" Then he wenton, "You wrote me that the human element was the important matter hereon the dam. This--friend--of----" Jim hesitated for a name for Pen. 

"--of your heart, " suggested the Secretary. 

"Thank you, " replied Jim gravely, "--of my heart said that I was doingonly half a man's part and that that was what was losing me my job. So Ihave been trying to enlarge my Thumb-print. I want to leave it not onlyin concrete but in the idea that the Project shall embody the rebirth ofthe old New England ideal of equality not in freedom alone, but inresponsibility. I hoped I might make every individual here feelresponsible for the building of the dam, for the payment of the debt, and for the development of the Project for the best good of every humanbeing on it. "

Jim stopped, and the Secretary said, "Well?"

Again Jim's wistful smile. "I woke too late to get my idea across. Mysuccessor comes tomorrow. "

The Secretary shook his head. "I had no idea you were to leave so soon, though I will admit that after I read of your interview with Freet Irather lost interest in your doings. You know, I suppose, that Freet wasasked for his resignation at the same time you were? Last week, however, just before we started on a tour of the Projects, a young lady called onme. She was very good looking and my secretary is not ah--impervious--toexternals, so he allowed her quite a long interview with me. "

The Secretary's eyes twinkled and young Allen laughed. "You see, thatthe Secretary took note of her personal appearance himself!"

Jim's face was flushed and amazed. The Secretary went on: "This younglady told me the details of the Freet visit and a good many otherdetails that I'll not take time to mention. She was so clear and cool, yet so in earnest that I decided that I would leave my party at Cabilloand come on up for a talk with you, incognito, as it were, before theygot here. To cap the climax, at Chicago I had a most remarkable telegramfrom a man named Gluck. I knew that a German engineer was looking overour Projects. "

The Secretary smiled at the helpless expression on Jim's face. "Gluck, in about a thousand words, for which I hope his government will pay, told me that I was an enfeebled idiot or what amounted to that to let anengineering treasure like you leave the dam. I liked you, Mr. Manning, when I saw you at Washington. I thought, then, though, that you were onthe wrong track and I hoped you could be lured onto the right one. Iadmit that I was much disappointed with your answer to my first letterand delighted with your second. I might have known that a woman had hadher hand in so radical a change!" The Secretary's smile was very humanas he said this. 

"I don't know that I agree with you in your feeling of sadness about thegoing of the Old Stock. I am an enthusiast over the Melting Pot ideamyself. But whatever the motive power within you, I heartily endorseyour ideals for the Projects. But I am still not convinced that you arethe man for your job, in spite of your engineering ability. Engineeringability is not rare. A great many engineers could build a dam. But a manto do the work you have outlined must have several rare qualities andnot the least among these is the capacity for making many friendseasily, of getting his ideas to the other man. "

Jim's jaw set a little, but he answered frankly, "I know it, Mr. Secretary, and that is just what I lack. "

This was too much for Uncle Denny. "Mr. Secretary, those that know Jimare bound to him by ribs of steel. They----"

"Uncle Denny! Uncle Denny!" interrupted Jim, sadly, "even your faithfullove cannot make a popular man of me! You must not try to influence theSecretary by your personal prejudice!"

Uncle Denny, with obvious effort, closed his lips, then opened them tosay, "Still! Still! You break me old heart!"

The Secretary looked from the handsome old Irishman to the tall youngengineer, whose face was too sad for his years and something a littlemisty softened the Secretary's keen blue eyes. 

"You agree with me, Mr. Manning, " he said gently, "that the capacity youseem to lack is essential for so heavy a task as you have outlined. Itis a great pity to lose you to the Service, yet I cannot see how you canbring the Project to its best. I am considering how it will be possibleto find men who have your engineering ability, your idealism, and thislast rare, marvelous capacity for popularity. "

Jim flushed under his tan. For the first time he spoke tensely. "Mr. Secretary, it's crucifying me to think I've fallen down on this. "

"Don't let it break you, " said the Secretary, looking at Jim with eyesthat had looked long and understandingly on human nature. "Make up yourmind to turn your forces into other channels. I want you to understandmy position, Mr. Manning. Personally, I would do anything for you, for Ilike you. I hope always to count you as a friend. But as Secretary ofthe Interior, I must be a man of iron, always looking ahead to thefuture of our country. I dare not let myself show partiality here, lestour children's children suffer from my weakness. "

Jim answered steadily, "Do you suppose I would hold my job as a favor, Mr. Secretary?"

"I know you wouldn't, " replied the Secretary. "That is why I took thetrouble to come to you personally. I told you that I was proud to feelmyself your friend. And if you have lost, you have lost as a man mustprefer to lose, Mr. Manning, in full flight, with the heat of battlethick upon you and not dragging out your days in a slow paralysis offutile endeavor. "

"I thank you, Mr. Secretary, " said Jim huskily. 

"Can I put supper on now, Mr. Dennis?" asked Mrs. Flynn, in a stagewhisper. 

"You may, " said the Secretary emphatically. "I don't like to seemimpatient, Mrs. Flynn, but I'm famished. "

Mrs. Flynn beamed, though eyes and nose were red from weeping. "I'llhave it on in three minutes, your honor. Just hold your hand on yourstomach, that always helps me, your honor. Boss, " in another stagewhisper, "I laid a clean shirt on your bed for you and you had betterask his honor if he don't want to wash up. "

The Secretary was charmed. He rose with alacrity. "Mrs. Flynn, if youever leave Mr. Manning, come straight to me. You are a woman after myown heart. "

Mrs. Flynn curtseyed with the sugar bowl in her hand. "I thank you, yourhonor, but if God lets me live to spare my life, I'll never leave theBig Boss. He's my family! I'd rather rub my hand over that silky brownhead of his than over a king's. God knows when I'll see him next, though----" and Mrs. Flynn's face worked and she dashed from the room. 

After the wonderful supper which Mrs. Flynn at last produced, Jimexerted himself, with Uncle Denny's help, to entertain the Secretary. Young Mr. Allen went to call on the cement engineer, who was an oldfriend. It was not difficult to amuse the Secretary. He was asinterested in details of the life on the Project as a boy of fifteen. Uncle Denny sent him into peals of laughter with an Irish version ofHenderson's stories, and Jim's story of Iron Skull moved him deeply. 

It was drawing toward nine o'clock when once more Bill Evans' rattle ofgasolene artillery sounded before the door. A familiar voice called, "Good-night, Bill!" and Penelope came into the room. 

The men jumped to their feet and Uncle Denny hurried to take her bag. Jim did not seem able to speak. Pen shook hands with the Secretary. 

"You are here, Mr. Secretary, " she said. "I'm so glad!"

"So am I, " said the Secretary, smiling appreciatively at Pen. In hertraveling suit of brown, with her shining hair and her great eyesbrilliant while her color came and went, Pen was very beautiful. Sheturned from the Secretary to Jim and shook hands with him, withdeepening flush. 

"Hello, Still!" she said. 

"Hello, Penelope!" replied Jim. 

"Pen!" cried Uncle Denny breathlessly. "What's the news? As I promised, I've not been near the telephone, nor have I said a word here, thoughit's most suffocated me. "

"Fleckenstein is defeated, " said Pen. 

"Oh, thank God for that!" cried Jim. 

"How did it happen?" asked the Secretary. 

Uncle Denny began to walk the floor. Pen answered. "A week ago, Mr. Secretary, a farmer named Marshall at a Fleckenstein meeting suggestedthat a petition be sent you to keep Mr. Manning here. "

Uncle Denny interrupted. "Mrs. Saradokis here already had telegraphed usto do that same thing, Mr. Secretary, but we were glad to have thefarmers get the same idea. "

"That isn't important, Uncle Denny, " said Pen. "Marshall himself wrotethe petition. The farmers' wives caught the idea as eagerly as theirhusbands and you will find in many cases the signatures of wholefamilies. Of course no man was going to petition for Mr. Manning, andthen vote for Fleckenstein. So he was defeated. Here is the petition, Mr. Secretary. "

Pen drew from her suitcase a fold of legal cap papers which she openedand passed to the Secretary. Her voice vibrated as she said: "It issigned by nearly every farmer on the Project, Mr. Secretary. Even theMexicans wanted Jim to stay. "

The Secretary put on his glasses and unfolded the numerous sheets. Helooked them through very deliberately, then without a word, passed themto Jim. 

The petition was a short one: "We the undersigned residents of theCabillo Project petition that James Manning be retained as engineer incharge of the Project. We ask this because we like him and trust himand believe he will do more than any other man could do for the farmers'good. Signed----"

There was no sound in the room save the crackling of the papers as Jim'strembling fingers turned them. He was white to the lips. The Secretarylooked from Jim to Pen, who was standing with close-clasped fingers, herdeep eyes shining as she watched Jim. From Pen he looked at Uncle Denny, who was walking round and round the dining room table as though on awager. Then the Secretary looked back at Jim. 

"This petition pleases me greatly, Mr. Manning, and it will please theDirector. He has grieved very much over the seeming necessity of lettingyou go. Of course this petition disproves all our statements about yourcapacity for making friends and for making your friends get your ideas. "The Secretary chuckled. "Mrs. Flynn can remove the newspapers from allher legs tomorrow!"

Jim could not speak. He looked from face to face and his lips moved, butonly his wistful smile came forth. 

"Mr. Dennis, " said the Secretary, "supposing you and I have a quietsmoke here while the Project engineer allows this young lady to take himout and explain to him how she came here. "

"Mr. Secretary, you must have a drop of Irish blood in you!" cried UncleDenny. 

He pushed Pen and Jim toward the door. And Jim took Pen's hand and wentout into the night. 

They walked silently under the stars to the edge of the canyon and stoodthere looking across at the black outline of the Elephant. 

"I went down to see the Secretary in Washington, " said Pen, "and he wasvery kind, but I couldn't move him from his decision about yourdismissal. Then when I wired Oscar about the petition, I decided that Iwas going to be in at the finish and present it to the Secretary myself. We came up from Cabillo on the same train. I made Bill drop me at theHendersons' because I wanted to surprise you. Good old Bill! He wentdown to Cabillo and brought the petition up to me. "

Jim held Pen's hand close in his own. "I can't seem to understand itall, " he said. "I don't deserve it. Think of the farmers doing this!Aren't they a fine lot of fellows, though! Gee, Penny, there is going tobe some great team work on this Project from now on! The water powertrust won't be able to get in here with a hydraulic ram! What can theydo with a prosperous and responsible group of farmers like these!"

"Jim, " cried Penelope, "there is no limit to what I want you to do! Thisis just the beginning. After you have finished here, you must go toother Projects and after that, you must go to Congress and it will bewar to the knife all the time. It's a wonderful future you are going tohave, Still Jim. "

Jim laughed happily. "And where will you be all this time, Penny? Iunderstand that you are quite, quite through with marriage, and it willbe very improper for you to keep on taking such an active interest in abachelor's affairs. And yet this bachelor just can't go on without you!"

Pen answered evasively. "That's open to discussion. Jimmy, some day, youwill buy back the old house at Exham. "

"It would never be the same, with dad gone, " said Jim. 

"Even if your father were alive, Jimmy, it couldn't be the same, "answered Pen. "It's just that the thought of the old house will alwaysrenew your old instincts, Still. You can't return Exham's old sweet daysto it. But Exham has done its work, I believe, out here on thisProject. "

Pen's smile was very sweet in the starlight. Jim put both his hands onher shoulders. 

"Do you love me, dear?" he asked. 

Pen looked up into his eyes long and earnestly. 

"I always have, Still Jim, " she said. 

"Do you want to know how I love you? Oh, sweetheart, I have so little tooffer you!" he went on, brokenly, without waiting for Pen's answer, "except abiding love and passionate love and adoring love! And you areso very beautiful, Penelope. I've hungered for you for a long, longtime, dear. Bitter, bitter nights and days up on the Makon and hopelessnights and days here on the Cabillo. " His hands tightened on hershoulders. "Did you come back to me, sweetheart?"

"Still, " whispered Pen, "I missed you so! I had to come back. "

Then Jim drew Pen to him and folded her close in his strong arms andlaid his lips to hers in a long kiss. 

And the flag fluttered lightly behind them and the desert wind whisperedabove their heads:

 "O yahee! O yahai! Sweet as arrow weed in spring!"

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~Affinities, and Other Stories. ~ By Mary Roberts Rinehart. 

~After House, The. ~ By Mary Roberts Rinehart. 

~Against the Winds. ~ By Kate Jordan. 

~Ailsa Paige. ~ By Robert W. Chambers. 

~Also Ran. ~ By Mrs. Baillie Reynolds. 

~Amateur Gentleman, The. ~ By Jeffery Farnol. 

~Anderson Crow, Detective. ~ By George Barr McCutcheon. 

~Anna, the Adventuress. ~ By E. Phillips Oppenheim. 

~Anne's House of Dreams. ~ By L. M. Montgomery. 

~Anybody But Anne. ~ By Carolyn Wells. 

~Are All Men Alike, and The Lost Titian. ~ By Arthur Stringer. 

~Around Old Chester. ~ By Margaret Deland. 

~Ashton-Kirk, Criminologist. ~ By John T. McIntyre. 

~Ashton-Kirk, Investigator. ~ By John T. McIntyre. 

~Ashton-Kirk, Secret Agent. ~ By John T. McIntyre. 

~Ashton-Kirk, Special Detective. ~ By John T. McIntyre. 

~Athalie. ~ By Robert W. Chambers. 

~At the Mercy of Tiberius. ~ By Augusta Evans Wilson. 

~Auction Block, The. ~ By Rex Beach. 

~Aunt Jane of Kentucky. ~ By Eliza C. Hall. 

~Awakening of Helena Richie. ~ By Margaret Deland. 

~Bab: a Sub-Deb. ~ By Mary Roberts Rinehart. 

~Bambi. ~ By Marjorie Benton Cooke. 

~Barbarians. ~ By Robert W. Chambers. 

~Bar 20. ~ By Clarence E. Mulford. 

~Bar 20 Days. ~ By Clarence E. Mulford. 

~Barrier, The. ~ By Rex Beach. 

~Bars of Iron, The. ~ By Ethel M. Dell. 

~Beasts of Tarzan, The. ~ By Edgar Rice Burroughs. 

~Beckoning Roads. ~ By Jeanne Judson. 

~Belonging. ~ By Olive Wadsley. 

~Beloved Traitor, The. ~ By Frank L. Packard. 

~Beloved Vagabond, The. ~ By Wm. J. Locke. 

~Beltane the Smith. ~ By Jeffery Farnol. 

~Betrayal, The. ~ By E. Phillips Oppenheim. 

~Beulah. ~ (Ill. Ed. ) By Augusta J. Evans. 

~Beyond the Frontier. ~ By Randall Parrish. 

~Big Timber. ~ By Bertrand W. Sinclair. 

~Black Bartlemy's Treasure. ~ By Jeffery Farnol. 

~Black Is White. ~ By George Barr McCutcheon. 

~Blacksheep! Blacksheep!~ By Meredith Nicholson. 

~Blind Man's Eyes, The. ~ By Wm. Mac Harg and Edwin Balmer. 

~Boardwalk, The. ~ By Margaret Widdemer. 

~Bob Hampton of Placer. ~ By Randall Parrish. 

~Bob, Son of Battle. ~ By Alfred Olivant. 

~Box With Broken Seals, The. ~ By E. Phillips Oppenheim. 

~Boy With Wings, The. ~ By Berta Ruck. 

~Brandon of the Engineers. ~ By Harold Bindloss. 

~Bridge of Kisses, The. ~ By Berta Ruck. 

~Broad Highway, The. ~ By Jeffery Farnol. 

~Broadway Bab. ~ By Johnston McCulley. 

~Brown Study, The. ~ By Grace S. Richmond. 

~Bruce of the Circle A. ~ By Harold Titus. 

~Buccaneer Farmer, The. ~ By Harold Bindloss. 

~Buck Peters, Ranchman. ~ By Clarence E. Mulford. 

~Builders, The. ~ By Ellen Glasgow. 

~Business of Life, The. ~ By Robert W. Chambers. 

~Cab of the Sleeping Horse, The. ~ By John Reed Scott. 

~Cabbage and Kings. ~ By O. Henry. 

~Cabin Fever. ~ By B. M. Bower. 

~Calling of Dan Matthews, The. ~ By Harold Bell Wright. 

~Cape Cod Stories. ~ By Joseph C. Lincoln. 

~Cap'n Abe, Storekeeper. ~ By James A. Cooper. 

~Cap'n Dan's Daughter. ~ By Joseph C. Lincoln. 

~Cap'n Erl. ~ By Joseph C. Lincoln. 

~Cap'n Jonah's Fortune. ~ By James A. Cooper. 

~Cap'n Warren's Wards. ~ By Joseph C. Lincoln. 

~Chinese Label, The. ~ By J. Frank Davis. 

~Christine of the Young Heart. ~ By Louise Breintenbach Clancy. 

~Cinderella Jane. ~ By Marjorie B. Cooke. 

~Cinema Murder, The. ~ By E. Phillips Oppenheim. 

~City of Masks, The. ~ By George Barr McCutcheon. 

~Cleek of Scotland Yard. ~ By T. W. Hanshew. 

~Cleek, The Man of Forty Faces. ~ By Thomas W. Hanshew. 

~Cleek's Government Cases. ~ By Thomas W. Hanshew. 

~Clipped Wings. ~ By Rupert Hughes. 

~Clutch of Circumstance, The. ~ By Marjorie Benton Cooke. 

~Coast of Adventure, The. ~ By Harold Bindloss. 

~Come-Back, The. ~ By Carolyn Wells. 

~Coming of Cassidy, The. ~ By Clarence E. Mulford. 

~Coming of the Law, The. ~ By Charles A. Seltzer. 

~Comrades of Peril. ~ By Randall Parrish. 

~Conquest of Canaan, The. ~ By Booth Tarkington. 

~Conspirators, The. ~ By Robert W. Chambers. 

~Contraband. ~ By Randall Parrish. 

~Cottage of Delight, The. ~ By Will N. Harben. 

~Court of Inquiry, A. ~ By Grace S. Richmond. 

~Cricket, The. ~ By Marjorie Benton Cooke. 

~Crimson Gardenia, The, and Other Tales of Adventure. ~ By Rex Beach. 

~Crimson Tide, The. ~ By Robert W. Chambers. 

~Cross Currents. ~ By Author of "Pollyanna. "

~Cross Pull, The. ~ By Hal. G. Evarts. 

~Cry in the Wilderness, A. ~ By Mary E. Waller. 

~Cry of Youth, A. ~ By Cynthia Lombardi. 

~Cup of Fury, The. ~ By Rupert Hughes. 

~Curious Quest, The. ~ By E. Phillips Oppenheim. 

~Danger and Other Stories. ~ By A. Conan Doyle. 

~Dark Hollow, The. ~ By Anna Katharine Green. 

~Dark Star, The. ~ By Robert W. Chambers. 

~Daughter Pays, The. ~ By Mrs. Baillie Reynolds. 

~Day of Days, The. ~ By Louis Joseph Vance. 

~Depot Master, The. ~ By Joseph C. Lincoln. 

~Destroying Angel, The. ~ By Louis Joseph Vance. 

~Devil's Own, The. ~ By Randall Parrish. 

~Devil's Paw, The. ~ By E. Phillips Oppenheim. 

~Disturbing Charm, The. ~ By Berta Ruck. 

~Door of Dread, The. ~ By Arthur Stringer. 

~Dope. ~ By Sax Rohmer. 

~Double Traitor, The. ~ By E. Phillips Oppenheim. 

~Duds. ~ By Henry C. Rowland. 

~Empty Pockets. ~ By Rupert Hughes. 

~Erskine Dale Pioneer. ~ By John Fox, Jr. 

~Everyman's Land. ~ By C. N. & A. M. Williamson. 

~Extricating Obadiah. ~ By Joseph C. Lincoln. 

~Eyes of the Blind, The. ~ By Arthur Somers Roche. 

~Eyes of the World, The. ~ By Harold Bell Wright. 

~Fairfax and His Pride. ~ By Marie Van Vorst. 

~Felix O'Day. ~ By F. Hopkinson Smith. 

~54-40 or Fight. ~ By Emerson Hough. 

~Fighting Chance, The. ~ By Robert W. Chambers. 

~Fighting Fool, The. ~ By Dane Coolidge. 

~Fighting Shepherdess, The. ~ By Caroline Lockhart. 

~Financier, The. ~ By Theodore Dreiser. 

~Find the Woman. ~ By Arthur Somers Roche. 

~First Sir Percy, The. ~ By The Baroness Orczy. 

~Flame, The. ~ By Olive Wadsley. 

~For Better, for Worse. ~ By W. B. Maxwell. 

~Forbidden Trail, The. ~ By Honoré Willsie. 

~Forfeit, The. ~ By Ridgwell Cullum. 

~Fortieth Door, The. ~ By Mary Hastings Bradley. 

~Four Million, The. ~ By O. Henry. 

~From Now On. ~ By Frank L. Packard. 

~Fur Bringers, The. ~ By Hulbert Footner. 

~Further Adventures of Jimmie Dale. ~ By Frank L. Packard

~Get Your Man. ~ By Ethel and James Dorrance. 

~Girl in the Mirror, The. ~ By Elizabeth Jordan. 

~Girl of O. K. Valley, The. ~ By Robert Watson. 

~Girl of the Blue Ridge, A. ~ By Payne Erskine. 

~Girl from Keller's, The. ~ By Harold Bindloss. 

~Girl Philippa, The. ~ By Robert W. Chambers. 

~Girls at His Billet, The. ~ By Berta Ruck. 

~Glory Rides the Range. ~ By Ethel and James Dorrance. 

~Gloved Hand, The. ~ By Burton E. Stevenson. 

~God's Country and the Woman. ~ By James Oliver Curwood. 

~God's Good Man. ~ By Marie Corelli. 

~Going Some. ~ By Rex Beach. 

~Gold Girl, The. ~ By James B. Hendryx. 

~Golden Scorpion, The. ~ By Sax Rohmer. 

~Golden Slipper, The. ~ By Anna Katharine Green. 

~Golden Woman, The. ~ By Ridgwell Cullum. 

~Good References. ~ By E. J. Rath. 

~Gorgeous Girl, The. ~ By Nalbro Bartley. 

~Gray Angels, The. ~ By Nalbro Bartley. 

~Great Impersonation, The. ~ By E. Phillips Oppenheim. 

~Greater Love Hath No Man. ~ By Frank L. Packard. 

~Green Eyes of Bast, The. ~ By Sax Rohmer. 

~Greyfriars Bobby. ~ By Eleanor Atkinson. 

~Gun Brand, The. ~ By James B. Hendryx. 

~Hand of Fu-Manchu, The. ~ By Sax Rohmer. 

~Happy House. ~ By Baroness Von Hutten. 

~Harbor Road, The. ~ By Sara Ware Bassett. 

~Havoc. ~ By E. Phillips Oppenheim. 

~Heart of the Desert, The. ~ By Honoré Willsie. 

~Heart of the Hills, The. ~ By John Fox, Jr. 

~Heart of the Sunset. ~ By Rex Beach. 

~Heart of Thunder Mountain, The. ~ By Edfrid A. Bingham. 

~Heart of Unaga, The. ~ By Ridgwell Cullum. 

~Hidden Children, The. ~ By Robert W. Chambers. 

~Hidden Trails. ~ By William Patterson White. 

~Highflyers, The. ~ By Clarence B. Kelland. 

~Hillman, The. ~ By E. Phillips Oppenheim. 

~Hills of Refuge, The. ~ By Will N. Harben. 

~His Last Bow. ~ By A. Conan Doyle. 

~His Official Fiancee. ~ By Berta Ruck. 

~Honor of the Big Snows. ~ By James Oliver Curwood. 

~Hopalong Cassidy. ~ By Clarence E. Mulford. 

~Hound from the North, The. ~ By Ridgwell Cullum. 

~House of the Whispering Pines, The. ~ By Anna Katharine Green. 

~Hugh Wynne, Free Quaker. ~ By S. Weir Mitchell, M. D. 

~Humoresque. ~ By Fannie Hurst. 

~I Conquered. ~ By Harold Titus. 

~Illustrious Prince, The. ~ By E. Phillips Oppenheim. 

~In Another Girl's Shoes. ~ By Berta Ruck. 

~Indifference of Juliet, The. ~ By Grace S. Richmond. 

~Inez. ~ (Ill. Ed. ) By Augusta J. Evans. 

~Infelice. ~ By Augusta Evans Wilson. 

~Initials Only. ~ By Anna Katharine Green. 

~Inner Law, The. ~ By Will N. Harben. 

~Innocent. ~ By Marie Corelli. 

~In Red and Gold. ~ By Samuel Merwin. 

~Insidious Dr. Fu-Manchu, The. ~ By Sax Rohmer. 

~In the Brooding Wild. ~ By Ridgwell Cullum. 

~Intriguers, The. ~ By William Le Queux. 

~Iron Furrow, The. ~ By George C. Shedd. 

~Iron Trail, The. ~ By Rex Beach. 

~Iron Woman, The. ~ By Margaret Deland. 

~Ishmael. ~ (Ill. ) By Mrs. Southworth. 

~Island of Surprise. ~ By Cyrus Townsend Brady. 

~I Spy. ~ By Natalie Sumner Lincoln. 

~It Pays to Smile. ~ By Nina Wilcox Putnam. 

~I've Married Marjorie. ~ By Margaret Widdemer. 

~Jean of the Lazy A. ~ By B. M. Bower. 

~Jeanne of the Marshes. ~ By E. Phillips Oppenheim. 

~Jennie Gerhardt. ~ By Theodore Dreiser. 

~Johnny Nelson. ~ By Clarence E. Mulford. 

~Judgment House, The. ~ By Gilbert Parker. 

~Keeper of the Door, The. ~ By Ethel M. Dell. 

~Keith of the Border. ~ By Randall Parrish. 

~Kent Knowles: Quahaug. ~ By Joseph C. Lincoln. 

~Kingdom of the Blind, The. ~ By E. Phillips Oppenheim. 

~King Spruce. ~ By Holman Day. 

~Knave of Diamonds, The. ~ By Ethel M. Dell. 

~La Chance Mine Mystery, The. ~ By S. Carleton. 

~Lady Doc, The. ~ By Caroline Lockhart. 

~Land-Girl's Love Story, A. ~ By Berta Ruck. 

~Land of Strong Men, The. ~ By A. M. Chisholm. 

~Last Straw, The. ~ By Harold Titus. 

~Last Trail, The. ~ By Zane Grey. 

~Laughing Bill Hyde. ~ By Rex Beach. 

~Laughing Girl, The. ~ By Robert W. Chambers. 

~Law Breakers, The. ~ By Ridgwell Cullum. 

~Law of the Gun, The. ~ By Ridgwell Cullum. 

 * * * * *

TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:

Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully aspossible, including obsolete and variant spellings and otherinconsistencies. Corrections in the text are noted below, withcorrections inside the brackets:

page 189: space added within word:

 curiosity, the machine left the road and plunged madly across the desert, through cactus thickets and yucca clumps, through draws and oversand[over sand] drifts. 

page 190: typo corrected

 "_Caramba!_" he said. "That was a fine ride! I've been wanting to get a look at that country and a talk with you, Bill, for a month. I fell[feel] well rested. "

page 324: typo corrected

 pack. They can reason, the old fools! Bill Evans' auto shoved this fellow over. The stearing[steering] gear broke. "

page 351: probable typo fixed for sense:

 ain't one of us fit to black his boots. This Project is his life's blood to him. There isn't anything he would[n't] sacrifice to its welfare. And you're throwing him out. 

In the advertisement: accents and typo fixed:

 ~Forbidden Trail, The. ~ By Honorè[é] Willsie. 

 ~Heart of the Desert, The. ~ By Honorè[é] Willsie. 

 ~I Spy. ~ By Natalie Sumner Linclon. [Lincoln]