"Oh, shucks, she knows as well as us." "She's just stubborn." She who was receiving these criticisms seemed to be somewhat older and larger than her companions. Just now, not deigning to notice the accusation of her friends, she was throwing sticks into the running water and watching them go over the falls at the headgate and dance on the rapids below. Her white party dress was as yet spotless.

Dorian made an effort to rescue them, but Carlia clung so to his arms that he could do nothing but stand and see the package glide over the falls at the headgate and then go dancing over the rapids, even as Carlia's sticks had done.

Perhaps he hoped that also might become classic, but the jury found for manslaughter. It had the effect of discouraging the Greenfields claim, but Amos used to sit on the headgate just the same, as quaint and lone a figure as the sandhill crane watching for water toads below the Tule drop. Every subsequent owner of Greenfields bought it with Amos in full view. The last of these was Diedrick.

The boys and girls played on its banks, and waded and sported in the cool stream. Near the village of Greenstreet was a big headgate, from which the canal branched into two divisions. As Dorian walked along the canal bank that afternoon, he saw a group of children at play near the headgate. They were making a lot of robust noise, and Dorian stopped to watch them.

Along in August of that year came a week of low water. Judson's ditch failed and he went out with his rifle to learn why. There on the headgate sat Diedrick's frau with a long-handled shovel across her lap and all the water turned into Diedrick's ditch; there she sat knitting through the long sun, and the children brought out her dinner.

Perhaps to get into the mood of the waterways one needs to have seen old Amos Judson asquat on the headgate with his gun, guarding his water-right toward the end of a dry summer. Amos owned the half of Tule Creek and the other half pertained to the neighboring Greenfields ranch.

Perhaps to get into the mood of the waterways one needs to have seen old Amos Judson asquat on the headgate with his gun, guarding his water-right toward the end of a dry summer. Amos owned the half of Tule Creek and the other half pertained to the neighboring Greenfields ranch.

Perhaps he hoped that also might become classic, but the jury found for manslaughter. It had the effect of discouraging the Greenfields claim, but Amos used to sit on the headgate just the same, as quaint and lone a figure as the sandhill crane watching for water toads below the Tule drop. Every subsequent owner of Greenfields bought it with Amos in full view. The last of these was Diedrick.

Along in August of that year came a week of low water. Judson's ditch failed and he went out with his rifle to learn why. There on the headgate sat Diedrick's frau with a long-handled shovel across her lap and all the water turned into Diedrick's ditch; there she sat knitting through the long sun, and the children brought out her dinner.