ed on his face; then the hope died out to the dumb,
patient waiting; the dumb, patient suffering of an animal that endures
without question, without resentment. Through the long days that
followed, she did her best to draw him from himself, from the fires that
were consuming him. It was in vain. In vain, when she found him seated
with his eyes fastened on the dusty trail from Ysleta, she slipped her
hand in his and nestled close to him, inviting confidences that were
never given, tendering sympathy that was not accepted, assuring him of
unswerving confidence that nothing and no one could destroy.

He let no opportunity pass to send other appeals to Helen, but these too
were unanswered. One day a messenger came. Elijah did not wait, but
rushed to meet him. The message was not from Helen. Instead, a telegram.
Mechanically he signed the receipt which the messenger held out; then he
opened the envelope. The message was in cipher, but he knew each symbol.
The messenger looked at him inquiringly. Elijah shook his head, "No
answer," and the messenger rode away.

It did not matter to Elijah that the message was over a week old; the
message itself was sufficient. "Have failed to raise the money. I start
for California tomorrow."

Elijah felt that his return to Ysleta was hopelessly barred. Mrs.
MacGregor was there now, Seymour was there, Helen was there. Like
sneaking jackals, they were ready to fall upon him, wounded to the
death. They would not leave him in peace. They would not leave him in
peace even with what was his own. Nothing was left him but vengeance;
how could he compass it?

Like the white flash of a thunderbolt, the transaction with Mellin came
to him. Its sinister condition--"within three months after the water
shall have been turned into the main canal of the Las Graces"--danced
before his eyes. The words were clear and minatory, but there was a
hidden meaning that he could not catch, that was pointing the way of
deliverance. He strained forward as if to listen more clearly. The
swollen veins on his forehead throbbed and beat; then he sprang to his
feet--

"As God lives, that water shall not be turned on!"

The sun had set and darkness was falling, but day and night were alike
to Elijah now. He was at the gates of the canal at the mouth of the
canyon. The roar of the Sangre de Cristo was gone, only a trickle of
water slipped by blackened boulders and gurgled as it fell into tiny
pools, then wimpled and sli