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Updated: September 16, 2025
Lark's ranch was the first one below the head-gates, lying between the river and the ditch, an old homesteader's claim, sub-irrigated by means of rude dams ponding the natural sloughs. The worn-out land, never drained, was foul and sour, lapsing into swamps, the black alkali oozing and spreading from pools in its boggy pastures.
She came back up the ditch and then rode right up to the head-gates and turned on the water. Jim Little saw her cutting across country from the head-gates hell-to-split." "Far as I can make out, all the evidence you've given me ain't against her, but against you. She was out drivin' when it happened, you say, and you expect me to arrest her for it. It ain't against the law to go driving, seh.
"Well, after I have my tunnel driven and the head-gates in and my Pagans have the land, I have only started. The land must be cleared of sage and greasewood, which in turn must be piled and burned.
He knew a good deal, but he was still off the track in the main points. "And who is this partner up at the canal? Have you got him located too?" "I might guess." "Well?" impatiently. "A young lady hailing from this hacienda was out gathering flowers all mo'ning. She was in her runabout. The tracks led straight from here to the head-gates. I followed them through the sands.
There's a little break in one of the rubber tires. You'll find that break mark every eight feet or so in the sand wash." "I opened the head-gates, then, did I?" "It looks that way, doesn't it?" "At a signal from father?" "I reckon." "And that's all the evidence you've got against him and me?" she demanded, still outwardly scornful, but very much afraid at heart. "Oh, no, that ain't all, Miss Lee.
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