ion."

"He'd want to look after the gophers some," yelled Dysart.

"I am astonished that this country is so little appreciated," continued
Brownell, blindly unheeding. "It is no doubt due to the reckless
statements of enthusiasts. It is a wonderful country--wonderful,
wonderful, wonderful!"

There was a diminuendo in the repeated adjective that told Palmerston
the speaker was moving toward the house; and it was from that direction
that he heard Mrs. Dysart, a little later, assuring her visitor, in a
high, depressed voice, that she hadn't found the country yet that would
support anybody without elbow-grease, and she didn't expect to till it
was Gawd's will to take her to her heavenly home.

John Dysart and his visitor returned from their trip in the mountains,
that evening, tired, dusty, and exultant. The professor's linen duster
had acquired several of those triangular rents which have the merit of
being beyond masculine repair, and may therefore be conscientiously
endured. He sat on the camp-chair at Palmerston's tent door, his
finger-tips together and his head thrown back in an ecstasy of content.

"This is certainly the promised land," he said gravely, "a land flowing
with milk and honey. Nature has done her share lavishly: soil, climate,
scenery--everything but water; yes, and water, too, waiting for the
brain, the hand of man, the magic touch of science--the one thing left
to be conquered to give the sense of mastery, of possession. This
country is ours by right of conquest." He waved his hands majestically
toward the valley. "In three months we shall have a stream flowing from
these mountains that will transform every foot of ground before you.
These people seem worthy, though somewhat narrow. It will be a pleasure
to share prosperity with them as freely as they share their poverty with
me."

Palmerston glanced conversationally toward the trumpet, and his
companion raised it to his ear.

"Dysart is a poor man," shouted Palmerston, "but he is the best fellow
in the world. I should hate to see him risk anything on an uncertainty."

Brownell had been nodding his head backward and forward with dreamy
emphasis; he now shook it horizontally, closing his eyes. "There is no
uncertainty," he said, lowering his trumpet; "that is the advantage of
science: you can count upon it with absolute certainty. I am glad the
man is poor--very glad; it heightens the pleasure of helping him."

The young man turned away a trifl