After his coat, Bob ripped off his flannel shirt and tore it down a seam. Then, with the greatest care, he began to unravel the threads that made up the fabric. The loose threads would burn when the cloth itself would only go out. Before he had a pile of threads that he felt would be sufficient for his purpose, his fingers ached and his nails were bleeding.,
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.,
“Oh, yes. You may know we were wet, sopping wet. We were almost upset in the sea, you understand; we were nearly drowned.”.
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