"Shall we start on?" suggested Helen; "it's a long way yet to the dam."
The road followed along the line of the canal, affording a complete inspection of the work. Only the canal was level, cutting through rolls, bridging arroyos, and boring through rocky hills too deep for cuts. The country grew too rough for wagons as it neared the foot hills of the San Bernardinos, and here the road turned into the bed of the canal. There were occasional stretches where the bed was sandy; these were cemented to prevent loss of water by seepage. On the sides of deep gulches, the canal was cut in the steep banks, walled above and below to hold the stream in place. The work was inspiriting, exhilarating. It was the conquest of Nature, or was it the higher Nature asserting itself, selecting and assimilating that which had hitherto been uncalled into active existence? Perhaps no one of the party asked himself the question, yet each felt that it was a great work, a great idea, a daring one.
At the mouth of the cañon, the canal ended. Across the cañon was built a deflecting dam of solid masonry. Where the canal led into the dam, massive gates were placed by means of which the water from the great reservoir in the mountains could be turned into the canal or cut off from it at will. Apparently there was not a contingency but had been foreseen and provided for.
On a level spot of ground near the gates, a messenger from Winston awaited the party to say that he was unavoidably detained, but that he would expect them the following day. Tents and food were waiting, and the night was pleasantly spent. Only the master of it all was absent.
Early in the morning the camp was astir and breakfast disposed of, horses were saddled and the party under way. Winston was better than his word, for he met them part way down the trail. His welcome was an ovation. Men and women crowded around, each eager to take his hand and pour congratulations into his reluctant ears.
"I accept, by proxy, for the real man," was his reply.
Uncle Sid awaited his turn. His loyal old heart was bursting with pride over all he had seen. There was a suspicious brightness in the old man's eyes as, with Winston's hand clasped in both his own, he looked into his eyes.
"Ralph, my boy," he said, "I have no child of my own, but if I had, an' he'd done what you have, I'd want my heart steel-hooped to keep it from burstin'."
Winston's grip tightened on the knotty fingers.
"Thank you, Uncle Sid." Then withdrawing his hand, he slipped it through the old man's arm.