"You are nearly through?" she asked.
"Yes. Two other weeks, with no bad luck, will see us ready to turn on the water."
She was looking straight ahead again.
"You know what that means to us at Castle 'Cadia?—but of course you do."
"I know I'd rather be a 'mucker' with a pick and shovel out yonder in the ditch than to be the boss here when the spillway gates are closed at the head of the cut-off tunnel. And that is the pure truth."
"This time I believe you without reservation, Breckenridge—my friend." Then: "Will Mr. Pelham come out to the formal and triumphal opening of the Arcadian Irrigation District?"
"Oh, you can count on that—with all the trimmings. There is to be a demonstration in force, as Major Blacklock would say; special trains from Denver to bring the crowd, a barbecue dinner, speeches, a land-viewing excursion over the completed portion of the railroad, and fireworks in the evening while the band plays 'America.' You can trust Mr. Pelham to beat the big drum and to clash the cymbals vigorously and man-fashion at the psychological instant."
"For purely commercial reasons, of course? I could go a step further and tell you something else that will happen. There will be a good many transfers of the Arcadia Company's stock at the triumphal climax."
He was standing with one foot on the car step and his hands buried in the pockets of his short working-coat. His eyes narrowed to regard her thoughtfully.
"What do you know about such things?" he demurred. "You know altogether too much for one small bachelor maid. It's uncanny."