ld ditches and dams? You do know it, Argyl? You do know that as
hard as I have worked for reclamation I have worked for regeneration!
And I have not failed altogether."

His tone was suddenly firm, suddenly stern. He was a man weighing
himself and his work, and he was speaking with a voice which rang with
simple frankness and deep sincerity.

"There is the work to say that I have not failed utterly. There it is,
ditch and dam, to say that I have done a part of the thing I have set
my hand to. I am not boasting of it, for what many men could have done
I should have been able to do. But I am proud of it. And, Argyl, while
I am not a man yet as I would be, not a man full grown as your father
is, while I can never hope to be the man your father is, yet I have
done what I could to be less of a fop, less of a drone in the world.
Do you understand me, Argyl?"

"Yes, Greek." She answered him softly, her face turned up to his, her
eyes frankly filled with love and pride for what he had done, what he
was. "I understand."

"Then, Argyl Crawford, just so sure as I have done a little thing or a
big thing in working the reclamation of this desert, just so certainly
have you done a big thing or a little thing in making less barren the
waste places in my own soul. Don't you see what you have done, Argyl?
It is not I who have done anything; it is you who have done
everything. If I am in any way responsible for success to our work,
then are you responsible for every bit of it. That dam, that ditch,
everything, all of it belongs to you! The success belongs to you!"

"Greek"--she smiled at him through a sudden gathering of tears--"you
mustn't say such things--"

"And so," he went on, quietly, "since the whole work has been your
work, I want the completion of the work to be yours. Look here,
Argyl."

He touched a long, slender lever reaching from the flume to the bank
where they stood.

"When the sun comes up it is going to bring a new day for all of us,"
he continued, slowly. "A new day which, for me, you have made
possible. And just as the sun comes up will you put your hand to this
lever and press it down?"

She looked up at him quickly. "Oh," she cried, her hand clutching at
his arm, her voice quivering, "you mean--"

He laughed happily. "I mean that when you press that lever it will
throw open the water-gates. I mean that it will be your hand which
turns the first mad current down into the flume. I mean that it will
be yo