“‘Water is King,’” he was saying, quoting thus the catchword of this particular concern.  He was talking in a half-joking way, asking one or the other how many inches of rainfall could be expected per annum back where they came from.

“Don’t know, do you?” he answered himself.  “Nobody pays any great and particular amount of attention to that—­you get water enough, except in exceptional years.  Out here it’s different.  Every one knows to the hundredth of an inch just how much rain has fallen, and how much ought to have fallen.  It’s vital.  Water is King.”

He gathered close the attention of his auditors.

“We have the water in California,” he went on; “but it isn’t always in the right place nor does it come at the right time.  You can’t grow crops in the high mountains where most of the precipitation occurs.  But you can bring that water down to the plains.  That’s your answer:  irrigation.”

He looked from one to the other.  Several nodded.

“But a man can’t irrigate by himself.  He can’t build reservoirs, ditches all alone.  That’s where a concern like the Lucky Company makes good.  We’ve brought the water to where you can use it.  Under the influence of cultivation that apparently worthless land can produce—­” he went on at great length detailing statistics of production.  Even to Bob, who had no vital nor practical interest, it was all most novel and convincing.

So absorbed did he become that he was somewhat startled when a man sat down beside him.  He looked, up to meet the steel gray eyes and glittering glasses of the chief.  Again there swept over him a sense of familiarity, the feeling that somewhere, at some time, he had met this man before.  It passed almost as quickly as it came, but left him puzzled.

“Of course your name is not Smith, nor do you come from Reno,” said the man in gray abruptly.  “I’ve seen you somewhere before, but I can’t place you.  Are you a newspaperman?”

“I’ve been thinking the same of you,” returned Bob.  “No, I’m just plain tourist.”

“I don’t imagine you’re particularly interested in Lucky,” said the gray man.  “Why did you come?”

“Just idleness and curiosity,” replied Bob frankly.

“Of course we try to get the most value in return for our expenditures on these excursions by taking men who are at least interested in the country,” suggested the gray man.

“By Jove, I never thought of that!” cried Bob.  “Of course, I’d no business to take that free ticket.  I’ll pay you my fare.”

The gray man had been scrutinizing him intensely and keenly.  At Bob’s comically contrite expression, his own face cleared.

“No, you misunderstand me,” he replied in his crisp fashion.  “We give these excursions as an advertisement of what we have.  The more people to know about Lucky, the better our chances.  We made an offer of which you have taken advantage.  You’re perfectly welcome, and I hope you’ll enjoy yourself.  Here, Selwyn,” he called to one of the salesman, “this is Mr.—­what did you say your name is?”