“With the unlimited authority I have in bestowing titles,” said Jack, “I have a mind to make you an Emir.  But it’s a pity that you haven’t a camel squatting under your date-tree and placidly chewing his cud.”

“A tempting thought!” declared the Doge unctuously.

“Bob Worther could ride him on the tours of inspection.  I think the jounce would be almost as good a flesh-reducer as pedestrianism.”

“There you go!  You would have the camel wearing bells, with reins of red leather and a purple saddle-cloth hung with spangles, and Bob—­our excellent Bob—­in a turban!  Persiflage, sir!  A very demoralization of the faculties with cataracts of verbiage, sir!” declared the Doge as he started back to the house.  “Little Rivers is a practical town,” he proceeded seriously.  “We indulge in nonsense only after sunset and when a stranger appears riding a horse with a profane name.  Yes, a practical town; and I am surprised at your disloyalty to your own burro by mentioning camels.”

“It rests with you, I believe, to let me have the land and also the water,” said Jack.

“We grow businesslike!” returned the Doge with a change of manner.

“Very!” declared Jack.

“The requirement is that you become a member of the water users’ association and pay your quota of taxes per acre foot; and the price you pay for your land also goes to the association.  But I decide on the eligibility of the applicant.”

They were in front of the house by this time, and again the Doge gave Jack that sharp, quick, knowing glance of scrutiny through his heavy, tufted eyebrows, before he proceeded: 

“The concession for the use of the river for irrigation is mine, administered by the water users’ association as if it were theirs, under the condition that no one who has not my approval can have membership.  That is, it is practically mine, owing to my arrangement with old Mr. Lefferts, who lives upstream.  He is an eccentric, a hermit.  He came here many years ago to get as far away from civilization as he could, I judge.  That gives him an underlying right.  Originally he had two partners, squaw men.  Both are dead.  He had made no improvements beyond drawing enough water for a garden and for his horse and cow.  When I came to make a bargain with him he named an annual sum which should keep him for the rest of his life; and thus he waived his rights.  First, Jim Galway, then other settlers drifted in.  I formed the water users’ association.  All taxes and sums for the sale of land go into keeping the dam and ditches in condition.”

“You take nothing for yourself!”

“A great deal.  The working out of an idea—­an idea in moulding a little community in my old age in a fashion that pleases me; while my own property, of course, increases in value.  At my death the rights go to the community.  But no Utopia; Sir Chaps!  Just hard-working, cheerful men and women in a safe refuge!”