“Who is he?”

Bryant shook his head.

“Don’t ask me.  No friend, at any rate.”

She regarded him steadily for a moment.

“Probably a man put forward by Mr. Menocal.”

“I suppose so,” said he.

“But the idea of expecting you to build all those miles of ditch in ninety days and in the winter time!  I wonder that you can be so calm.”

“Why shouldn’t I be calm?  My mind’s made up.  I’m going to complete the project on time.”

The words were uttered in a matter-of-fact tone that impressed Louise Graham far more than would any vehement assertion.  As he had stated, his mind was made up, quite made up on the point.  Others might think what they pleased:  it carried no weight with him.  The thing was certain.

She examined the engineer with a new interest.  There was a difference in him, what would be hard to say.  One couldn’t exactly put finger on it.  Something in his gray eyes, perhaps; something in the sharper stamp of his aquiline nose, of his lips, of his bronzed jaw; something in his whole bearing.  It went deeper than features, too; she sensed a change in the spirit of the man from what it had been that day of his going down to Kennard, when he strolled with her in her garden.  He was less bouyant, less manifest, less elated, but more poised and sure.  A change, yes.

Then her thoughts reverted to his tremendous undertaking.

“How long have you known this?” she inquired.

“Since the day before yesterday.  Pat Carrigan, my contractor, and I came to the capital at once to discuss the affair with the Board.  The news was—­well, a good deal of a facer.”

She nodded.

“It would be,” were her words.  “You’ll need more workmen and horses, of course.”

“All I can get.  Pat went to Denver last night, and the labour agencies there and at Pueblo, Colorado Springs, Santa Fe, El Paso, and places farther east doubtless by now are rounding up men.  We picked up an idle grading outfit yesterday in Santa Fe; it will be loaded and started by to-night.”

Her face became a little rueful.

“That all sounds so big that I hesitate to make the offer I had in mind when I asked,” she said.

“What was it, Miss Graham?”

“Father has twelve or fifteen teams and some scrapers used on the ranch.  The horses aren’t working at this season.  He would be glad to let you have them, I know, if he thought they would be of any aid.  But with what you’ll have, perhaps you——­”

“I want them; I’ll be more than grateful for them.  I need every man and horse available.  I can’t get too many.  Each labourer and each horse counts just that much more.  It’s a great kindness on your part to suggest their use to me, and I’ll stop on the way to camp to see your father.”

“He’ll consent to your employing them,” said she, confidently.  “Dad likes a man who puts up a good fight, and you’re doing that.  A fight against great odds.”