Bent--that clever young engineer at the wheat ranch, who was always
studying up these things with his inventions--and that was his opinion.
No, Tom was not a well-digger, but it was generally known that he had
"located" one or two, and had long ago advised the tapping of that flow
by a second boring, in case of just such an emergency. He was coming
again to-morrow. By the way, he had asked how the young lady visitor
was, and hoped she had not been alarmed by the earthquake!

Rose felt herself again blushing, and, what was more singular, with an
unexpected and it seemed to her ridiculous pleasure, although outwardly
she appeared to ignore the civility completely. And she had no
intention of being so easily placated. If this young man thought by mere
perfunctory civilities to her HOST to make up for his clownishness to
HER, he was mistaken. She would let him see it when he called to-morrow.
She quickly turned the subject by assuring the major of her sympathy and
her intention of sending for her father. For the rest of the afternoon
and during their al fresco dinner she solved the difficulty of her
strained relations with Mrs. Randolph and Emile by conversing chiefly
with the major, tacitly avoiding, however, any allusion to this Mr.
Bent. But Mrs. Randolph was less careful.

"You don't really mean to say, major," she began in her dryest,
grittiest manner, "that instead of sending to San Francisco for some
skilled master-mechanic, you are going to listen to the vagaries of a
conceited, half-educated farm-laborer, and employ him? You might as well
call in some of those wizards or water-witches at once." But the major,
like many other well-managed husbands who are good-humoredly content
to suffer in the sunshine of prosperity, had no idea of doing so in
adversity, and the prospect of being obliged to go back to youthful
struggles had recalled some of the independence of that period. He