Johnny Blossom, cap in hand, tiptoed with unusual care over the highly polished floor. First a gentle knock on Uncle’s door, then a louder one.,
His mind’s eye pictured the network of canals that would run off on each side and which, by bringing that magic thing, water, to the parched earth, would transform it into fruitful acres. Once around a bend from the dam he was alone in the immense country. Not a vestige of human occupancy could be seen. The desert stretched way out on either side, broken here and there by hills, or buttes, as they are called.,
“Heat lightning, I guess,” returned the other, but before the words were out of his mouth the same phenomenon occurred and this time he saw it..
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