erything."

"And you can have what you ask!"

"To begin with, I shall want a man here to take my place if I find it
necessary to be away at all. I want Brayley here, and right away."

"Brayley is the best man on the Half Moon. You can have him."

"Thank you. There is one further thing."

"Name it."

"I do not draw a cent of wages until the first day of October. Then if
I have water in the valley I get it in a block. If I do not have
water--I don't touch it!"

A curious little smile flitted across Mr. Crawford's lips.

"You are in a position to dictate, Conniston. Let it be as you say."

"And now, if you have no immediate orders for me, I want to get to
work. I am going to shift the gang under the Lark out yonder, in front
of the others. He's the best pace-maker I've got."

"Go ahead. I'll be here until noon."

Unconsciously squaring his shoulders as he went, Conniston strode away
toward the ditch.

CHAPTER XVII

At noon Mr. Crawford told the men gathered at the long tables that in
the future they were to look to Conniston for all orders, that he was
empowered to act as he saw fit in any crisis, that he would have
absolute command over every part of the reclamation work, here or
elsewhere. And then he gripped Conniston's hand warmly, gave him an
address in Denver where a telegram would find him, and drove away
toward Crawfordsville, promising to telephone to Brayley to report to
the Valley immediately.

Before he was out of sight the new superintendent called his four
overseers aside.

"What wages are you fellows drawing down?" he asked, bluntly.

"Three bones," the Lark told him.

"Now, look here. Do you fellows know that we have got to get this
whole job done by the first of October? That's a lot of work, and
maybe you boys know it. It is up to you four fellows as much as it is
up to anybody to see that the work is done. You've got to get every
inch done every day that you can. You've got to drive your men all
they'll stand for. You know what will happen if you make a mistake and
try to get too much out of them?"

"Dead easy, Mr. Conniston," grinned the Lark. "They'll quit. They say
there is lots of easy graft up in the mountains with a guy named
Swinnerton."

"Then," went on Conniston, quietly, "you've got to be careful not to
drive them too hard. Keep your men good-natured. If you see any signs
of balking let me know. I haven't any kick to make about the way you
have been working, bu