undis had ceased
to ring.

He hurried on across the Los Muertos ranch, almost running, even putting
his hands over his ears till he was out of hearing distance of that
all but human distress. Not until he was beyond ear-shot did he pause,
looking back, listening. The night had shut down again. For a moment the
silence was profound, unbroken.

Then, faint and prolonged, across the levels of the ranch, he heard the
engine whistling for Bonneville. Again and again, at rapid intervals in
its flying course, it whistled for road crossings, for sharp curves, for
trestles; ominous notes, hoarse, bellowing, ringing with the accents of
menace and defiance; and abruptly Presley saw again, in his imagination,
the galloping monster, the terror of steel and steam, with its single
eye, cyclopean, red, shooting from horizon to horizon; but saw it now
as the symbol of a vast power, huge, terrible, flinging the echo of
its thunder over all the reaches of the valley, leaving blood and
destruction in its path; the leviathan, with tentacles of steel
clutching into the soil, the soulless Force, the iron-hearted Power, the
monster, the Colossus, the Octopus.

CHAPTER II

On the following morning, Harran Derrick was up and about by a little
after six o'clock, and a quarter of an hour later had breakfast in the
kitchen of the ranch house, preferring not to wait until the Chinese
cook laid the table in the regular dining-room. He scented a hard
day's work ahead of him, and was anxious to be at it betimes. He was
practically the manager of Los Muertos, and, with the aid of his foreman
and three division superintendents, carried forward nearly the entire
direction of the ranch, occupying himself with the details of his
father's plans, executing his orders, signing contracts, paying bills,
and keeping the books.

For the last three weeks little had been done. The crop--such as
it was--had been harvested and sold, and there had been a general
relaxation of activity for upwards of a month. Now, however, the fall
was coming on, the dry season was about at its end; any time after the
twentieth of the month the first rains might be expected, softening the
ground, putting it into condition for the plough. Two days before this,
Harran had notified his superintendents on Three and Four to send in
such grain as they had reserved for seed. On Two the wheat had not even
shown itself above the ground, while on One, the Home ranch, which was
unde