distinguish good land from bad. Besides, near Phoenix he had inspected
a gigantic irrigation project, and had talked long with the engineer in
charge, and he had learned many things that would not have interested
the average cowpuncher.

There was a break in the wall of the butte south of the group of
buildings, and out of the break Sanderson could see water tumbling and
splashing from one rock ledge to another until it rushed down, forming
quite a large stream as it struck the level and swirled hurriedly
between two sloping banks near the buildings.

From where Sanderson sat on Streak he could look far back into the
break in the butte. The break made a sort of gorge, which widened as
it receded, and Sanderson suspected the presence of another basin
beyond the butte--in fact, the Drifter had told him of the presence of
another basin.

"She'd make some lake, if she was bottled up!" was Sanderson's mental
comment after a long examination.

His gaze became centered upon the buildings and the level surrounding
them.

The buildings were ordinary, but the country was rugged and picturesque.

Some foothills--which Sanderson had seen from the far side of the basin
that morning--rose from the level toward the south, their pine-clad
slopes sweeping sharply upward--a series of gigantic land waves that
seemed to leap upward and upward toward the higher peaks of some
mountains behind them.