“The officials would have to be deceived to gain their consent to such a change,” Lee said, patiently.  “But the real point at issue is the permanency of the water system, Ruth.  The poor devils who buy the land and who toil for years to pay for it are to be considered.  If the canal is too cheaply constructed, they’ll probably lose their crops; and losing their crops means ruin.  As far as possible an engineer must insure against this danger when he builds the canal; then if any accident happens later, his conscience, at any rate, is clear.”

“But he says you over-estimate the risk, that wood is perfectly safe.  And he’s an expert engineer, too.  More experienced than you, Lee.”

“You seem to have discussed this thing with him at great length,” Bryant remarked, dryly.

“I have, indeed I have, because I have your success so greatly at heart, dear.  I want to see you receive every penny that you earn and all the credit you deserve; I want you to go ahead in your profession and become both wealthy and famous; but sometimes I think that you’re so absorbed in the engineering part of the work that you’re careless of the future.  One has to be practical, too.  One has to look out for one’s own interests.  And I don’t see why your responsibility for the project doesn’t end when you’ve built the canal, sold the land, and turned the system over to the farmers.  You can’t go on looking out for them after that; you’re not answerable to the ‘hay-seeds’ who settle here for what may or may not happen.  And we shall need the money that would be saved by using wood instead of concrete, Lee.  When you’re through here, we shall want to live in New York at least part of the time.  With Mr. Gretzinger’s friendship you could perhaps form a connection so that you could be there all the while, and make a big fortune.  You will do this for me, won’t you, Lee?  It means just that much more happiness for us.”

She slipped her arms about his neck and kissed him impulsively, eagerly.  Lee felt himself tremble at that clasp, at that kiss.  Words seemed futile.  His anxiety over the fate of his project gave way to a profound sickness of soul.  That Ruth should thus reveal such a cloudiness of spiritual vision, such an inability to distinguish between moral values, such a ready acceptance of Gretzinger’s vicious philosophy, was the final drop in his bitter cup this day.

“It’s not a question of either wood or concrete just at present,” he said, rising.  “It’s whether I’m to have a project at all.  I’ll not go with you, Ruth, to your friends; I must think over what I’m to do and say at Santa Fe to-morrow.”

As he rode thither with Carrigan that night it seemed as if he now was at grapple with forces, invisible, powerful, malevolent, that strove to dispossess him of everything that was dear.  His project!  What means, what help, what law was there of which he could make use to ward off this deadly assault on it?  And Ruth!  How should he save her—­save her from herself, clear the mist from her eyes, arouse her drowsing soul?  All that he had aimed at and all that he had striven for hung on finding answers to those questions.