s--his month's wage. Conniston asked for some change, and for one
of the gold pieces received ten silver dollars. He knew that Mr.
Crawford and Argyl had gone into Crawfordsville, so he gave one dollar
to Brayley, saying: "Will you hand that to Mr. Crawford for me? I owe
it to him for telegraph service on the first day I spent here." And
then he made a little roll of the indispensable articles from his
suit-case, tied it to the strings behind his saddle, and rode away
across the fields toward Rattlesnake Valley.

He was to report immediately at the office of the reclamation work in
Valley City. Following the trail he and Argyl had taken the other day,
he rode into the depression, or sink, about the middle of that long,
low hollow between the southern end and the clutter of uniform square
buildings which was planned to grow into a thriving town in the heart
of the desert.

Every foot of ground here now had a new personal interest for him. He
studied the long, flat sweep of level land with nodding approval,
trying to see just where the main canal should run, just how its
course could be shaped most rapidly, most cheaply, most
advantageously. For the mounds, the ridges where the winds had swept
the sand into long winnows, he had a quick frown. After all, he
realized suddenly, this desert was not the flat, even floor he had
imagined it to be. A mile, two miles to his right as he rode into the
"valley" he could see a slow-moving mass of men and horses, could
catch the glint of the sun upon jerking scrapers and plows. There the
front ranks of Mr. Crawford's little army was pushing the war against
the desert. There was where the brunt of Bat Truxton's responsibility
lay.

To his left, still several miles away, was Valley City. He swung his
horse toward the camp, which as yet was scarcely more than a man's
dream of a town, and rode on at a swift gallop. Now more than ever he
saw what some of the difficulties were in front of the handful of men
scarring the breast of this Western Sahara. For a moment he could see
the houses before him, even down to their doorsteps, and a moment
later only the roofs peered at him over the crest of a gently swelling
rise. Here the water, when it was brought this far, must be swung in a
wide sweep to right or left, or else many days, perhaps many weeks,
must be sacrificed to the leveling of a great sand-pile. He began to
wonder if there was enough water in the mountains for so mammoth a
project