ad-high to them as they
rode. They paused on the high bridge between the desert and the sown.
Behind lay the broad and level clearings, orchard, kempt steading and
alfalfa; a step beyond was the raw wilderness, the yucca and the sand,
dark mesquite in hummocks and mottes and clumps, a brown winding belt
between the mother ditch and the first low bench land. The air came
brisk and sweet; it rippled the fields to undulant shimmer of flashing
purple and green and gold.

"Your _'cequia madre_ is sure brimful this evenin'," remarked the
guest.

"Always is--when we don't need it. In dry weather she gets pretty low
enough," said Hobby. "Colorado people get the first whack at the
water, and New Mexico takes what is left. Never high water here except
at flood time. Fix that different some day. We got to fight flood and
drought now, one down, another come on. Some day we'll save the flood
water. Sure! No floods, no drought. Easy as lying! _Vamonos!_"

The road followed the curving ditch; their voices were tuned to
lipping water and the drone of bees. Lull pointed out the lines where
his high ditch was to run at the base of the bench land, with flume at
gully and canyon steeps. As eye and mapping hand turned toward Redgate
a man came down Redgate road to meet them; a man on a Maltese horse.
He rode briskly, poised, sure-swaying as ever bird on bough. Charlie
See warmed to the lithe youth of him.

"There, fellow citizens," he said, "there is what I'd call a good
rider!"

As the good rider came abreast he swept off his hat. His eyes were
merry; he nodded greeting and shook back a mop of blackest hair. The
sun had looked upon him. He checked the blue horse in his stride--not
to stop, but to slow him; he spoke to Lull in passing.

"Garfield post office?" He jerked a thumb toward the bridge; for
indeed, seen across the ramparts of the ditch, there was small
distinction between visible Garfield and the scattered farmsteads.
"This way?"

"Yes."

"Just across the bridge," added Lyn. The story scorns to suppress the
truth--she smiled her dimpliest.

"Thanks," said the stranger; and then, as he came abreast of Charlie
See: "And the road to Hillsboro? Back this way--or straight on?"

"Straight through. Take the right hand at the post office--straight to
the ford. You'll have to swim, I reckon."

"Yes," said the stranger indifferently. He was well beyond See and
Edith Harkey now, and the blue horse came back into the road and i