"Yes—if you can get it on the land."
"But surely that sort of thing was looked into long ago, when the record was made."
Angus shook his head. "A water record isn't a guarantee of water. It's merely a right to take it if you can get it. Water is one thing you can't take for granted. We have time to run a line to the creek, and see where we come out. As for the spring here, it wouldn't water more than ten acres or so."
There is nothing more deceptive, even to the trained eye, than levels in a broken country. The unaided eye can tell nothing about them. To all appearances, in many places, water runs up hill. Nothing but the level can prove whether it can be brought upon any given area.
Starting from the upper end of the block they began to take sights. The distance to the creek was further than Angus had supposed. They ran into a broken country where the ground was rocky and less adapted to ditching. There were sidehills, which are dangerous because they have an annoying habit of sliding when water-soaked, and gulches which would necessitate fluming. All the time they drew nearer and nearer to the base of the round mountain. Unless the line could run around the lower foot of it the way was barred to water. And finally the line ran into the base of the hill. There was no going around it. It definitely settled the question of water. The land, then, was non-irrigable.
"I wonder if that old blighter, Braden, knew this?" Chetwood speculated.
"He might not," Angus replied, though he had his own ideas on the subject.
"And then again he might," Chetwood grinned. "Caveat emptor, and all that sort of thing. I'm awfully obliged to you, you know."
"That is all right."
"Left to myself I might have bought." He hesitated. "I wish there were some way for me to show my appreciation."