e recollection
of Adele's scandalous interpretation of her most innocent actions and
her sudden and complete revulsion against all that she had previously
admired in that household, to hear this man who had seemed to her a
living protest against their ideas and principles, now expressing them
and holding them up for emulation, almost took her breath away.

"I suppose that means you intend to fix Major Randolph's well for him?"
she said dryly.

"Yes," he returned without noticing her manner; "and I think I can find
that water again. I've been studying it up all night, and do you know
what I'm going to do? I am going to make the earthquake that lost it
help me to find it again." He paused, and looked at her with a smile
and a return of his former enthusiasm. "Do you remember the crack in the
adobe field that stopped you yesterday?"

"Yes," said the girl, with a slight shiver.

"I told you then that the same crack was a split in the rock outcrop
further up the plain, and was deeper. I am satisfied now, from what I
have seen, that it is really a rupture of the whole strata all the way
down. That's the one weak point that the imprisoned water is sure to
find, and that's where the borer will tap it--in the new well that the
earthquake itself has sunk."

It seemed to her now that she understood his explanation perfectly, and
she wondered the more that he had been so mistaken in his estimate of
Adele. She turned away a little impatiently and looked anxiously towards
the point where Dawson had disappeared. Bent followed her eyes.

"He'll be here in a moment, Miss Mallory. He has to drive slowly through
the grain, but I hear the wheels." He stopped, and his voice took up its
previous note of boyish hesitation. "By the way--I'll--I'll be going up
to the Rancho this afternoon to see the major. Have you any message for
Mrs. Randolph--or for--for Miss Adele?"

"No"--said Rose, hesitatingly, "and--and"--

"I see," interrupted Bent, carelessly. "You don't want anything said
about your coming here. I won't."

It struck her that he seemed to have no ulterior meaning in the
suggestion. But before she could make any reply, Dawson reappeared,
driving a handsome mare harnessed to a light, spider-like vehicle. He
had also assumed, evidently in great haste, a black frock coat buttoned
over his waistcoatless and cravatless shirt, and a tall black hat that
already seemed to be cracking in the sunlight. He drove up, at once
assisted he