Northward, fringing the edge of the plain that began at the foothills
and stretched many miles, were other mountains; eastward the butte
extended far, receding, irregular, its jagged walls forming a barrier;
southwestward stretched the basin, in a gentle slope that was more
noticeable to Sanderson now than it had been while he had been riding
during the morning.

The land around the buildings was fertile, for here was water which
could be utilized. The land over which Sanderson had been riding all
morning, though, was not so fertile; it needed the water that the
stream splashing out of the gorge could give it, with proper human
manipulation.

All morning Sanderson's thoughts had dwelt upon the serious lack of
water in the basin. Now his thoughts grew definitely troubled.

"There's goin' to be hell here--if this thing ain't handled right. The
Double A has got lots of water. The other fellows will be wantin' it.
They've got to have it."

Sanderson finished his inspection of the place. Then he spoke to
Streak, and the big brown horse descended the slope of the hill, struck
the level, and cantered slowly toward the ranch buildings near the
river.

Sanderson urged the brown horse toward the largest building of the
group, and as he rode he straightened in the saddle, rearranged his
neckerchief and brushed some of the dust from his clothing--for at this
minute his thoughts went to the girl--whom he now knew he had come to