two or three sundays after they had come to the dam, bob and jerry found themselves with a day on their hands.
“come on, bob, let’s get a couple of horses and ride up into the range country. i hear there are some wonderful ranches farther up country.”
“no,” said bob. “i’ll stick to the water. i found a canoe and i am just aching to do some paddling. come on with me.”
“didn’t you get enough water in the labyrinth?” laughed jerry.
“i don’t think i’ll ever get enough water,” returned bob. “are you coming?”
“no, i reckon i’ll let you go alone. me for the high places!”
so the two boys spent their sunday apart. the canoe had belonged to one of the engineers who had left for another project, and the storekeeper who had bought it was willing to rent it out. bob decided to go down stream the first day and take a look at the land which would be irrigated by the water stored up by the dam when it was finished. he took his lunch with him as he expected to make an all day trip of it.
soon after leaving civilization the river broadened out into a shallow slow-moving stream. bob lay back in the canoe and merely paddled sufficiently to steer it, letting the lazy current carry him slowly along. close to the river bank everything was green and fresh looking, but this vegetation did not extend so far that bob could not see where the green left off and the desert began.
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.
therefore, when he saw in the distance a figure seated on a rock fishing, it came as a great surprise. he pointed the canoe’s nose toward the fisherman. when he got close he saw that it was a boy of perhaps his own age.
“hello,” said the stranger as he grew nearer. “where you from? the dam?”
“yep,” answered bob.
“but what are you doing down here?”
“just out on a little jaunt. where did you come from?”
“i live over the hill there,” answered the other boy. “dad’s a stock raiser. you can see the house from the river after you get down a little further. i sneaked away from my old man this morning to see if i could get a few fish. they aren’t biting very good here, though,” he concluded. “i wish i had a boat, because i know of a peach of a place—”
“come along with me then,” suggested bob. “i would be tickled to death to have company, especially if you’ve got another line and plenty of bait.”
“sure mike!” said the other boy. “i’m with you.” and he stepped gingerly into the canoe. the newcomer did not seem particularly familiar with the easily capsized craft, yet bob noted with satisfaction that he had sense enough to keep very quiet once he was aboard.
as bob shot out into the stream he asked the newcomer, “want to paddle?”
“don’t know much about it, to tell you the truth. all the boatin’ i’ve done was in a flat bottomed scow i had up to the last flood. the high water swiped it on me and i reckon the mexicans have got it by now,” he grinned. “i felt pretty sore about losing it, but my dad figured it was good business. said i spent too much time on the river anyhow; that i ought to be out riding range for him.”
“cowboy?” said bob, at once interested by the two magic words “riding range.” he had met them in many books of adventure. they brought up thoughts of bucking bronchos, fights with indians, and all the rest of the romance of the west. that this boy of about his own age could be a cowboy was really exciting. but he missed the woolly chaps and the sombrero. the boy was simply dressed in overalls, went barefooted and wore a heavy slouch hat.
“nope,” said the other. “dad don’t want me to be a cowboy. i wouldn’t mind that much. he wants me to be a farm hand! nix on that! i wish i could go up to the dam. that’s regular work. reckon i could get a job up there?”
bob did not know what to say. mr. whitney had given him the feeling that for anyone who was really enthusiastic about the service, the service had room. but he thought he had better not be too encouraging. “why don’t you come up and try? i’ll introduce you to the boss.”
the other boy laughed. “my old man would whale the tar out of me if he caught me monkeying around up there.”
“doesn’t your father believe in the project?”
“he’s a cattleman,” said the boy, as if that explained everything.
“but what difference does that make?” insisted bob. “he ought to be glad to see the dam built!”
“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 see,” said bob. “then he’s got a real reason for not liking the irrigating scheme. but you don’t seem to think the way he does about it.”
“you bet i don’t train along with him. i’m so sick of cows that i never want to see a long horn again. i’d like to be an engineer. i sneaked up once or twice to the dam. it must be fun to help built it. but i reckon it’s not for me.” the boys were silent, each busy with his own thoughts. then the newcomer exclaimed, “but here’s the place we want to do some fishing. grab a line and bait up!”
for several hours the boys fished with more or less success, and during this time bob learned a lot about his new friend. his name was ted hoyt and he had never been farther away from home than las cruces. he had had some schooling and the coming of the reclamation service had fired him with an ambition to rise higher in the world than was promised by the education he had received. the boys grew very chummy and it was when they were eating their lunches that bob finally made up his mind to side actively with his new-found friend.
“i think it’s a rotten shame. i don’t think your father ought to stand in the way of what you want to do.”
“i don’t reckon he ought myself,” was the laconic answer. “but he does and that’s about all there’s to it as far as i can figure.”
“don’t you think it might help if i got my boss, mr. whitney, to come down and talk to him about it?”
“gee whiz, no!” the other cried. “i reckon dad would set the dogs on the chief engineer from the dam. he hates him worse than poison.”
“but my boss has only been here two or three weeks. i don’t see how your father has had time to quarrel with him.”
“that makes no never mind. the man he is laying for is the feller bossing the dam. dad don’t care if they change them every two days. he can shift a grudge as fast as they can shift men!”
but when they finally parted they had come to the arrangement that bob was to keep his eyes open for a possible job for ted. ted on his side promised that he would make one more effort to get his father to let him do as he wished. they planned to meet the following sunday at the same place and compare notes.
once back at the dam bob took his share of the fish he had caught up to mr. whitney’s cottage. “brought you some fish, chief,” he said. “but i think i’ve hooked a much bigger fish. i met a young chap down the river who seems to be the right stuff for the service. he’s crazy about it.”
“i can always make use of a fellow like that,” said the chief when bob had finished his story. “tell him for me that he can have a job whenever he can take it.”
