claim can be irrigated, and it takes in about all
of the valley that is worth taking--enough to control the water rights
for all the land below us. That is the reason why Horton is trying so
hard to dislodge us. He would like to be able to make the ranchmen on
the lower ranches come to his terms about the water."

"But the law regulates the water rights," said Jessie.

"It is supposed to do so, and does it, after a fashion, but no human
laws have ever yet been able to satisfactorily regulate a mean man. It
would be a great misfortune to the ranchmen below if Horton were to
get a title to this place; he likes to make people feel his authority,
and one effective way of doing that would be to worry people about the
water supply, just when they needed it most, of course. I feel now
that our danger of losing the place is past. It has been a hard
struggle to bear up against nearly five years of such sly, petty
persecutions. Horton is careful not to oppose us openly. When he's
found out, as he is occasionally, it always appears that he has been
careful to keep within the letter of the law. Well, as Leslie says,
we'll get our title clear, and then the wind will be out of Mr.
Horton's sails. I've been afraid to make a move, or to do anything
except curl down and study the homestead laws all this time. If I had
come to an open rupture with him he might have gone down to the land
office and told some story of his own invention to the agent that
would injure me greatly, for land agents are only too ready to believe
evil of land claimants, it seems to me. Now my notice for offering
final proof is in one of the papers; it must be published three times,
and the period of publication must not range over more than three
months at the outside, so you see, at the farthest, if our proof is
accepted, we shall have a deed to this place within three months. I do
not see how we can fail to get it; we have complied with all the
requirements."

"Yes," Jessie assented, gravely. "We have two cows, two horses, a cat,
a dog, a clock, some chairs, some dishes, a table, a stove, and some
poultry."

Father smiled, the slow, serious smile that had replaced his cheery
laugh since mother's death two years before. "You are well posted on
homestead laws, daughter," he said, rising from the table. "Where's my
coat, Leslie, did you get it mended?"

For answer I took down a worn, light, gray coat from a nail behind the
kitchen door.

"Look at that!" I