“We all agree with you so far, Mr. Secretary,” said the chair-man of the delegation.

“I thought you would!” Enoch’s beautiful voice had a curious dignity for all its geniality.  “Now my policy aims to embody the idea that the men who develop the water power of America shall not develop for themselves and their associates a water power monopoly.”

“We fear that as much as you do, Mr. Secretary,” said one of the delegates.  “But let the state control that.  We fear too much bureaucracy and centralization of authority here in Washington.  And don’t forget, if it came to a scratch, we could say to Uncle Sam, you own the stream, but you shan’t use a street or a town facility reaching it.”

Enoch raised his eyebrows.  “Uncle Sam doesn’t want more power.  If the states had not been so careless and so corrupt in regard to their public lands and their waters, there would be no need now for the Department of the Interior to assert its authority.  Show me, Mr. Delegate, that there are neither politics nor monopolistic dreams in Idaho’s attitude toward her Water Power problem and I’d begin to de-centralize our policy toward your state.”

Abbott opened the door and tip-toed to Enoch’s desk.  “I’m sorry, Mr. Secretary,” he said softly, “but Senator Far has been waiting five minutes.”

“I’m sorry too,” replied Enoch.  “Gentlemen, we have used up the time allotted.  Will you make arrangements with Mr. Abbott for a longer conference, to-morrow?  Come back with the proofs!” He smiled, and the gentlemen from Idaho smiled in return, but a little ruefully.  The last one had not turned his back when Enoch began an attack on the pile of letters.

A ruddy-faced, much wrinkled man appeared in the door.

“Senator Far, Mr. Secretary,” announced Abbott.  Enoch rose and held out his hand.  “Senator, you look warm.  Oh, Abbott, tell Jonas to turn on the fan.  What can I do for Arkansas, Senator?”

Jonas came in hurriedly.  “Mr. Secretary, that fan’s laid down on me.  How come it to do it, I haven’t found out yet.  I tried to borrow one from a friend of mine, but—­”

“Never mind, Jonas,” said Enoch.  “I don’t expect you to be an electrician.  Perhaps the power’s still off in the building.  I noticed there were no lights when I came in.”

Jonas’ eyes grew as big as saucers.  “It sure takes brains to be a Secretary,” he muttered, as he turned to hurry from the room.

The two men grinned at each other.  “What I wanted was an appointment for a friend of mine,” said Senator Far.  “He’s done a lot for the party and I want to get him into the Reclamation Service.”

“He’s an engineer?” asked Enoch, lighting the cigar the Senator gave him.

“I don’t think so.  He’s been playing politics ever since I knew him.  He has a good following in the state.”

“Why the Reclamation Service then!  By the eternal, Senator, can’t you fellows leave one department clear of the spoils system?  I’m here to tell you, I’m proud of the Service.  It’s made up of men with brains.  They get their jobs on pure ability.  And you fellows—­”