law requiring delivery of the water on this ground than to have a man
drive around pouring a bucketful out of a barrel upon each quarter
section."

"Some pretty shady transactions were put across in those early days,"
Bryant commented.

"Well, ain't matters just as bad now?" Stevenson asked, quickly. "He
still has the appropriation, or rather I'm supposed to have it with
this ranch. Because Menocal controls the Mexican vote hereabouts,
which is about all the vote there is, why, nobody has ever disturbed
him about that water right. And he's using that water, belonging to
me, to irrigate a lot of bottom farms along the river, for which no
water can be appropriated, the Pinas not carrying enough. I rode over
one day and looked at those farms--all grain and alfalfa. Well, he'll
get this ranch back, anyway. The mortgage he holds on it is due next
week and I can't pay it. Wouldn't even if I had the money. We're going
to pull up stakes and leave."

Bryant silently regarded the other's haggard face and stooped figure,
whose expression and resigned attitude revealed clearly Stevenson's
surrender. He was a man discouraged, disheartened, whipped.

"What's wrong with the sheep?" he questioned, at length.

"Not much that isn't wrong. When I started five years ago, I invested
in three thousand head. One time I had them increased to fifty-five
hundred--three bands. Thought I was doing first rate; and I was then.
But everything began to go against me. It seemed as if I always got
the worst herders; and not having any water to raise alfalfa I had to