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“You must be a tenderfoot,” the other said pityingly. “It’s this way. My father raises cattle. For cattle, you need the range on which they feed and which has been free to all. About all the range there is around here is along the banks of the river. Now this irrigation business comes along and the Government won’t let anybody have more than 160 acres of land. Then my Dad has got to get rid of all his cattle and go to farmin’—which is pretty nigh as disgraceful for a cattleman as sheep-keeping. That is, of course, if he wants to stay around this part of the country.” “I don’t reckon it would be as bad as that,” answered Whitney. “When Uncle Sam once starts something, he is pretty likely to carry it through. But we’d have a rough time of it all right. If I could only find out who’s behind ’em—they are not capable of stirring it up amongst themselves—I’d be able to nip the trouble before it got started. If they do strike and we are delayed, the Water Users Association will start on the rampage again.” “Rather an involved story,” thought Mother. But she said: “Well, now you must say your prayers and go to sleep.”.

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Johnny Blossom was nearly out of the grounds on his way home when the servant came running after him to tell him that his uncle wanted him. Johnny turned back with great delight. He had known well enough that Uncle Isaac would wish to see him after receiving such a beautiful present. “You’ve—you’ve fixed it for me to go there?” said Bob, realizing that by letting him go to that particular institution, where only engineering was taught, his father had given up all hope of his ever being a lawyer. “That’s bully of you, Dad!” “Gee, that’s tough!” commented Bob, happy that Mr. Whitney had enough confidence to tell him all these things. “But about the Mexicans; you don’t suspect anyone around the job is the trouble maker, do you?” Bob was rather elated that his plan had worked so far and they started off mounted on a couple of bronchos that the stable in the lower camp provided..