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“I guess he thinks the Gringo got mixed up with a charge of dynamite!” was the boy’s reflection as he scuttled up to his room. “What have you been up to this afternoon, Jerry?” asked the Chief, when they had found their table. "If that is all that troubles you, madam, I can easily put an end to your sorrow.".

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Then under his feet he saw the snake-like line of fuse. Reaching down, he grabbed it. It was necessary to take the chance that this sudden disturbance of the dynamite might set it off. With a leap, he pulled the whole thing over the bank with him and dropped with it into the water of the Rio Grande. He did not hear the sizzling sound that told that the fuse was dead. As he sank into the water, Bob was only conscious that he had done his best. “It is this little gentleman who has given me my eyes again, friends. What a blessed miracle it is that I can see!” “This is the plan. You go back home and say you are sick of engineering—that riding range is good enough for you. If you do that your father will be likely to take you back, won’t he?” “Yes,” he said, “it is wonderful. Centuries of primitive irrigation have furnished the knowledge which has made this dam possible. It is the greatest irrigation scheme ever attempted and I am proud that it is to be my lot to finish it—mighty proud.” His eyes were on the swarming crowd of men, the cable wires humming, the derricks shifting their burdens, all the myriad activities that went to the building of his dam. “It will be a dream fulfilled,” he said almost to himself. Then, suddenly, he knocked the ashes from his pipe and got up. “Come, Bob,” he said. “We must get on the job. We’re not bringing the finish along any quicker by sitting here dreaming of it.”.