. "Yes, from him," he mumbled.

"Oh, you mean Mr. Blake, I suppose," she replied. Lightly as she
spoke, she could not suppress the quiver of eagerness in her voice.
"If you will kindly give it to me now."

He drew out a letter, not from among the other mail in his pouch, but
from his pocket. Her look of surprise showed that she was struck with
the oddness of this. She was too excited, however, to consider what
might be its meaning. She tore open the letter and read it swiftly.
Her sparkling eyes and glowing cheeks when she looked up served only
to increase Ashton's gloom.

"So the fellow is coming," he groaned. "What else could I have
expected?"

The girl held out the open letter to him. It was in typewriting,
addressed from Chicago, and read:--

Dear Madam:

In reply to your letter of inquiry regarding an inspection to
determine the feasibility of irrigating certain lands in your
vicinity--my fee for personal inspection and opinion would be
$50. per day and expenses, if I came as consulting engineer.
However, I am about to make a trip to Colorado. If you can
furnish good ranch fare for my wife, son, and self as guests,
will look over your situation without charge. Wife wishes to
rough-it, but must have milk and eggs. Will leave servants in
car at Stockchute, where we shall expect a conveyance to meet us
Thursday, the 25th inst., if terms agreeable.

Respectfully yours,
THOMAS BLAKE.

Ashton crumpled the letter in his clenched hand as he had crumpled the
letter from his father's lawyers.

"He is coming! he really is coming!" he gasped. "Thursday--only three
days! Genevieve too!"

"And his son!" cried Isobel, too excited to heed the dismay in her
companion's look and tone. "He and his family, too, as my guests!"

"Yes," said Ashton bitterly. "And what of it when he floods you off
your cattle range? By another year or two, the irrigation farmers will
be settling all over this mesa, thick as flies."

"Oh, no; it is probable that Mr. Blake will find there is no chance to
water Dry Mesa," she replied, in a tone strangely nonchalant
considering her former expressions of apprehension. She drew the
crumpled letter from his relaxing fingers, and smoothed it out for a
second reading.

"'Wife, son, and self,'" she quoted. "Son? How old is he?"

"I don't know. They've been married nearly two years," mut