"Why, you talk as if you didn't want the dam, either."
"It is no use discussing my views; the dam will be a great thing. Very possibly there will be no more Falls, but the high banks will remain—until commercial interests demand their quarrying—and all we can do is to go with the tide and remember that while man is destroying in one place, Nature is building in another. There will always be plenty of wild grandeur somewhere for those who have the money and leisure to seek it."
"But Alva says that Mr. Ledge is trying to save this for those who love beautiful spots, and haven't time or money to go far."
"America isn't made for such people," said Ingram, simply.
Lassie thought seriously for a moment, until a glance from her companion hurried her on to say: "I suppose that we are too progressive to let anything just go to waste, and that's what it would be if we let all this water-power flow unused."
"Of course," said Ingram; "here would be this great tract of woodland, which might be making eight or ten men millionaires, and instead of that one man tries to save it for thousands who never can by any chance become well-to-do. No wonder the one man has spent most of his life investigating insane asylums; he is evidently more than slightly sympathetic with the weak-minded."
"Are you being sarcastic?"
"No, not at all. I like to look at the Falls, but then I like to look at a big dam, too; and sluice gates always did seem to me the most interesting wonder in nature."
They were deep in the quiet peace of Ledge Park by this time, and only the squirrels had eyes and ears there. (They didn't know about Joey Beall.)
"Oh, how still and lovely!" Lassie exclaimed; "how almost churchlike."