the application of knowledge to useful ends. I am not an
educated man myself, but I have known many who are, and they are all
alike--shallow, superficial, visionary. They need to put away their
books and sit down among the everlasting hills and think. You have done
well to come out here, young man. This is good; you will grow."

He stopped at the door of the tent and took off his rusty hat. The
breeze blew his long linen duster about his legs.

"Have you looked much into electrical phenomena?" he asked, putting up
his trumpet.

Palmerston moved a step back, and said: "No; not at all." Then he raised
his hand to possess himself of the ear-piece, and colored as he
remembered that it was not a telephone. His companion seemed equally
oblivious of his confusion and of his reply.

"I have made some discoveries," he went on; "I shall be pleased to talk
them over with you. They will revolutionize this country." He waved his
hand toward the mesa. "Every foot of this land will sometime blossom as
the rose; greasewood and sage-brush will give place to the orange and
the vine. Water is king in California, and there are rivers of water
locked in these mountains. We must find it; yes, yes, my young friend,
we must find it, and we _can_ find it. I have solved that. The solution
is here." He stooped and patted his satchel affectionately. "This little
instrument is California's best friend. There is a future for all these
valleys, wilder than our wildest dreams."

Palmerston nodded with a guilty feeling of having approved statements of
which he intended merely to acknowledge the receipt, and motioned his
guest into the white twilight of the tent.

"Make yourself comfortable, professor," he called. "I want to find
Dysart and get my mail."

As he neared the kitchen door Mrs. Dysart's voice came to him enveloped
in the sizzle of frying meat.

"Well, I don't know, Jawn; he mayn't be just the old-fashioned
water-witch, but it ain't right; it's tamperin' with the secrets of the
Most High, that's what I think."

"Well, now, Emeline, you hadn't ought to be hasty. He don't lay claim to
anything more'n natural; he says it's all based on scientific
principles. He says he can tell me just where to tunnel--Now, here's
Mr. Palmerston; he's educated. I'm going to rely on him."

"Well, I'm goin' to rely on my heavenly Fawther," said Mrs. Dysart
solemnly, from the quaking pantry.

Palmerston stood in the doorway, smiling. John jumped up an