“Then he was stung,” Charlie averred.

“Wait, you don’t know all, my son.  He plans to build a dam and a canal and use that old water right out of the Pinas, taking the water with which we irrigate the farms down at Rosita.  It will leave them dry; the alfalfa will die; no more grain or peas or beans will be raised on them; they won’t have even good pasturage; they will go back to sagebrush and cactus—­all those farms, all those beautiful ranches!  Altogether four or five thousand acres!  They are worth two hundred thousand dollars now—­to-morrow worth nothing!  Half my winter hay comes from them; half my peas for fattening lambs.  I shall have to sell part of my sheep.  I’m a millionaire now, but I’ll be reduced, I’ll be less than a millionaire, and so almost poor again.  It’s very bad; it mustn’t be; I must stop him using the water.”

Even Charlie became solemn at the prospect of losing two hundred thousand dollars and being less than a millionaire.

“The right hasn’t been used; we’ll have it cancelled,” he said, with sudden confidence.

“He refused to sell the place to me for ten thousand dollars cash,” the father stated.  “He’s no fool—­and he’s a bad customer, Charlie; he said he would send me to prison for perjury if I tried to cancel the right.”

“Perjury, pouf!” Charlie sneered.

“He couldn’t send me to prison, of course, for I have too much money, but he might make it unpleasant for me, very unpleasant.  Politics are to be considered; I mustn’t get a bad name in the party and in the state.  I must be careful.  The records show that the ranch has had the water, and while in my possession.  As he says, that would be difficult for me to explain if I entered court against him.  The matter mustn’t get into court or into the land office.  Later we can have the water right cancelled and reappropriated—­later, when he has gone away, when no dust can be raised about it.”

“Is he going away?”

“Don’t be stupid, Charlie.  He must go away; that is necessary:  I’m considering plans.  He must be pursuaded—­or——­”

“Or forced,” said his son, with reckless bright eyes.

“Men generally depart from a locality when public opinion is brought to bear on them,” the elder remarked.  “He can be made unpopular until he desires to leave.”

“We’ll run him out, just leave that part to me.”

“Charlie, nothing rash must be done, remember that, and nothing illegal.  I shall think of some plan soon.”

“Nothing rash, but nothing uncertain, father.  Two hundred thousand is a lot of money.  I, too, shall plan.”