of all when Lee led him to a horse dealer’s and helped him pick out a pony for trial, a gift from Bryant.  He hadn’t expected all this.  He was too overcome to speak.  “By golly, Lee, I—­I——­” he stammered; and stopped, and furtively wiped the moisture from his eyes.  Finally they visited a savings-bank, where the engineer deposited a check to Dave’s credit, his wages for a month and a half, forty-five dollars, to start an account, and the boy received a small yellow book whose one entry he thereafter studied at frequent intervals, for it was earning according to Bryant’s statement four per cent a year, though Dave had not the remotest idea of how it did the earning.  Then with all this business transacted they returned to the hotel, bathed, dressed in their fresh clothes, and went into luncheon.

“Luncheon, what do they call dinner that for?” Dave whispered to Lee across the table.

Along in the afternoon Bryant, having obtained a set of blue-prints and sent his young companion to a “movie” show, called upon the man that he all the while had had in view, Imogene Martin’s uncle.  A large, strong-bodied man, with a deeply lined, determined face, the latter swept his visitor with a quick, appraising look, invited him to take a seat, and to state his business.

“In five minutes you can tell,” said Lee, “whether or not you wish to listen longer to my proposition.”

“Yes.”

“I now own the Perro Creek ranch, of five thousand acres.  It was originally owned by Mr. Menocal, of Bartolo, but recently by a man named Stevenson, from whom I bought it.”

“I know the place, Mr. Bryant.  Proceed.”

“It’s worth possibly three dollars an acre as it stands, or a total of fifteen thousand dollars,” Lee continued.  “But it has an unused water right of one hundred and twenty-five second feet from the Pinas River, sufficient to water the whole tract.  How much will the ranch be worth when water is actually delivered?”

“A good deal more than fifteen thousand dollars.”

“Rather,” said the engineer, smiling.  “The appropriation was secured from the state by Mr. Menocal thirty years ago; it’s never been cancelled, and is good to-day.  He, however, has been using the water on ranches he owns down the river.  A canal from the Pinas along the mountain sides to Perro Creek would be expensive to construct, possibly prohibitive; it appears the natural line; and I suppose this deterred him.  I’ve located a new and practical course for a ditch on the mesa, have surveyed and mapped it in detail, calculated the cost, and compiled a statement of estimates, and can build the project for sixty thousand dollars.  The tract of five thousand acres can then be sold for fifty dollars an acre, or two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.  Shall I stop, or do you wish to hear more?”

Now it was the banker’s turn to smile.  This visitor knew how to make a point.

“Go ahead,” he said.