rk, compared the lasting utility of his
work with their own ephemeral and selfish efforts, a wave of
self-reproach swept over him. These were the people whom, in season and
out, he had condemned as greedy, selfish, unprincipled sharks. For the
first time in his life, he began to realize the fact that, even in the
worst of humanity, there is a soul of goodness, a soul that is only
obscured, never extinguished. In deep contrition, he reviewed his
attitude of mind toward Elijah. He saw him in a new light, the light of
kindliness that was radiating from those whose hearts he had condemned
as black with unscrupulous greed. He pictured Elijah, shunning his
fellow men like a hunted animal, the warmth of his good intentions
changed to the biting flame of bitter resentment against those who were
to profit by his success, and who had turned from him at sight of the
first shadow that had fallen upon him. He reproached himself for not
having gone directly to Elijah on the first suspicion of defalcation,
for not having pointed out to him his error, for not having pleaded with
him to face the consequences of his wrong doing, to endeavor to set
himself right. He contrasted his self-righteous conduct with that of
Helen Lonsdale, her readiness to stand by Elijah, to assume her own
share of blame for Elijah's mistaken actions. He had assumed that,
because certain of Elijah's actions had been criminal, Elijah was a
criminal by instinct, and he, a friend, an intimate business associate,
had treated him as one, but made no effort at reclamation.

Winston's was not an emotional nature, but the circumstances in which he
was placed, played upon his calmly balanced mind, until he saw his own
self-righteous errors and condemned himself as sharply as he had
condemned Elijah. He was recalled to himself by the proffered hand of
one of the most successful and as he deemed him, one of the most
heartless of Ysleta's boomers.

"Say, Ralph, old man, I want to do myself the honor of shaking hands
with the real thing. This work," he swept his hand with a comprehensive
gesture which included the dam, the canal, and the waiting hillsides,
"makes us feel like thirty cents Mexican. It don't come with the real
plunk from us, you know, but it's real just the same. Ysleta wasn't
worth whooping for, but we whooped. We whooped for cash. Some of us got
it; but what we got, others lost, and we knew it. But you fellows have
helped us to make good. With this thing in