orlorn River?"

"I don't know, Nell," replied Belding, thoughtfully. "It worries me.
It looks good for Forlorn River, but bad for Dick's plan to irrigate
the valley. Lord, I'd hate to have some one forestall Dick on that!"

"No, no, we won't let anybody have Dick's rights," declared Nell.

"Where have I been keeping myself not to know about these surveyors?"
muttered Belding. "They must have just come."

"Go see Mrs. Cater. She told me there were strangers in town,
Americans, who had mining interests in Sonora, and were run out by
Orozco. Find out what they're doing, Dad."

Belding discovered that he was, indeed, the last man of consequence in
Forlorn River to learn of the arrival of Ben Chase and son, mineowners
and operators in Sonora. They, with a force of miners, had been
besieged by rebels and finally driven off their property. This property
was not destroyed, but held for ransom. And the Chases, pending
developments, had packed outfits and struck for the border. Casita had
been their objective point, but, for some reason which Belding did not
learn, they had arrived instead at Forlorn River. It had taken Ben
Chase just one day to see the possibilities of Altar Valley, and in
three days he had men at work.

Belding returned home without going to see the Chases and their
operations. He wanted to think over the situation. Next morning he
went out to the valley to see for himself. Mexicans were hastily
erecting adobe houses upon Ladd's one hundred and sixty acres, upon
Dick Gale's, upon Jim Lash's and Thorne's. There were men staking the
valley floor and the river bed. That was sufficient for Belding. He
turned back toward town and headed for the camp of these intruders.

In fact, the surroundings of Forlorn River, except on the river side,
reminded Belding of the mushroom growth of a newly discovered mining
camp. Tents were everywhere; adobe shacks were in all stages of
construction; rough clapboard houses were going up. The latest of this
work was new and surprising to Belding, all because he was a busy man,
with no chance to hear village gossip. When he was directed to the
headquarters of the Chase Mining Company he went thither in
slow-growing wrath.

He came to a big tent with a huge canvas fly stretched in front, under
which sat several men in their shirt sleeves. They were talking and
smoking.

"My name's Belding. I want to see this Mr. Chase," said Belding,
gruffly.

Slow-witted