In two or three days the new-comer knew everyone in town; but though he addressed the men by their first names they always addressed him as “Mr. Prather.”  In another respect besides his features he was like Jack:  he was much given to smiling.

“The difference between his smile and Jack’s,” said Mrs. Galway, who was at one with Mary in not liking him, “is that his is sort of a drawing-in kind of smile and Jack’s sort of radiates.”

The children developed no interest in him.  It was evident that he could not tell stories, except with an effort.  In his goings and comings, ever asking pleasant questions and passing compliments, he was usually accompanied by the Doge, and his attitude toward the old man was the admiring deference of disciple for master.

“I am sorry I don’t understand that,” he would say when the Doge fell into a scholastic allusion to explain a point.  “I was hard at work when lots of my friends were in college.”

“Learning may be ruination,” responded the Doge, “though it wouldn’t have been in your case.  It’s the man that counts.  See what you have made of yourself!”

“Ah, yes, but I feel that I have missed something.  When I am settled here I shall be able to make up for lost time, with your help, sir.”

“Every pigeonhole in my mind will be open at your call!” said the Doge, glowing at the prospect.

The favor that Prather found in the eyes of Jasper Ewold partly accounted for what favor he found in Little Rivers’ eyes.

“Prather has certainly made a hit with the Doge!” quoth Bob Worther.  “As the Doge gets older I reckon he will like compliments better than persiflage.  But Jack could pay a compliment, too—­only he never used the ladle.”

It was Bob, as inspector of ditches and dams, who provided a horse for Prather to inspect the source of the water supply.  In keeping with a characteristic thoroughness, Prather wanted to go up the river into the canyon.  He made himself a very enjoyable companion on the way, drawing out all of Bob’s best stories.  When they stopped in sight of the streak of blue sky through the breach in the mighty wall that had once imprisoned the ancient lake, he was silent for some time, while he surveyed this grandeur of the heights with smiling contemplation, at intervals rubbing the palms of his hands together in a manner habitual with him when he was particularly pleased.

“I guess the same idea has struck you that strikes everybody at sight of that, seh!” said Bob.

“Yes, a dam might be practical,” Prather answered.  “But it would take a lot of capital—­a lot of capital!”

On the way back they stopped before a dilapidated shanty near the foothills.  In the midst of a littered yard old man Lefferts, half dozing, occupied a broken chair.

“Since the Doge came old man Lefferts has had to do no work at all.  A Mexican looks after him.  But it hasn’t made him any happier,” Bob explained as they approached.