ly. "Well, Selwyn," said he, "this is Mr.
Orde--of Michigan--and I want you to show him around."

He moved down the aisle to take a seat, distant, but facing the two
young men. Bob felt himself the object of a furtive but minute scrutiny
which lasted until the train slowed down at the outskirts of Lucky.

Selwyn proved to be an agreeable young man, keen-faced, clean-cut, full
of energy and enthusiasm. He soon discovered that Bob did not
contemplate going into ranching, and at once admitted that young man to
his confidence.

"You just nail a seat in that surrey over there, while I chase out my
two 'prospects.' We sell on commission and I've got to rustle."

They drove out of the sleepy little village on which had been grafted
showy samples of the Company's progress. The day was beautiful with
sunshine, with the mellow calls of meadow larks, with warmth and sweet
odours. As the surrey took its zigzag way through the brush, as the
quail paced away to right and left, as the delicate aroma of the sage
rose to his nostrils, Bob began to be very glad he had come. Here and
there the brush had been cleared, small shacks built, fences of wire
strung, and the land ploughed over. At such places the surrey paused
while Selwyn held forth to his two stolid "prospects" on how long these
newcomers had been there and how well they were getting on. The country
rose in a gradual slope to the slate-blue mountains. Ditches ran here
and there. Everywhere were small square stakes painted white, indicating
the boundaries of tracts yet unsold.

They visited the reservoir, which looked to Bob uncommonly like a muddy
duck pond, but whose value Selwyn soon made very clear. They wandered
through the Chiquito ranch, whence came the exhibition fruit and other
products, and which formed the basis of most Lucky arguments. The owner
had taken many medals for his fruit, and had spent twenty-five years in
making the Chiquito a model.

"Any man can do likewise in this land of promise," said Selwyn.

They ended finally in a beautiful little canon among the foothills. It
was grown thick with twisted, mottled sycamores just budding into leaf,
with vines and greenery of the luxurious California varieties. Birds
sang everywhere and a brook babbled and bubbled down a stony bed.

Under the largest of the sycamores a tent had been pitched and a table
spread. Affairs seemed to be in charge of a very competent countrywoman
whose fuzzy horse and ramshackle bug