sun rays pierced down into the very
depths to warm their drenched bodies and lighten their heavy spirits.

Ashton had long since lost all count of time. His watch had been
smashed in his first fall of the day. But Blake seemed to have an
intuitive sense of time. At fairly regular intervals he fired a shot
to tell the watchers above the extent of their progress. Sometimes the
answering flag-signal could be seen waving from the rim of the canyon.
But in many places those above could not come near the brink to look
over.

The approach of midday found the bruised and weary fighters
struggling through one of the narrowest reaches of the canyon. The
precipices jutted out so far that the lower depths seemed more
cavern than chasm, and the river swirled deep and swift between
sheer, narrow walls. Twice Ashton was swept past what should have
been the next turning-point, and Blake, unable to see the figures on
the rod, had to guess at his readings.

At last the precipices swung apart and showed the sky at a twist in
the canyon's course that was the sharpest of all the turns the
explorers had as yet encountered. As Blake came wading down past
Ashton, along the inner curve of the bend, he stopped and pointed
skywards. Ashton raised his drooping head and peered up at the rim of
the opposite wall. From the brink a dense column of green-wood smoke
was rising into the indigo sky.

"One more set-up," shouted Blake.

Three minutes later he took a reading on the water and on a point of
rock at the angle of the canyon-side around which the river swung in
its sharp curve. Three more minutes, and the two battered fighters
stood together on the last bench of that tremendous line of levels,
with torn and rent clothing, sodden, gaping boots, bodies bruised from
head to foot--bleeding, weary, but victorious! They had finished the
work that Blake had set out to do.

He held up the now-soaked notebook for Ashton to see the last penciled
elevation on the wet paper.

"Two thousand, forty-five!" he shouted. "Over five hundred feet above
that bench in Dry Greek Gulch! Water, electricity!--Dry Mesa shall be
a garden!"

Ashton stared moodily into the exultant face of the engineer.

"Are you sure of that?" he asked. "How do you know that God will let
you climb up out of this hell of stone and water?"

"There's the saying, 'God helps those who help themselves,'" replied
Blake. "I'm going to put up the best fight I can. If that doesn't win
o