Savine laughed. "You did not see how he lived. The good things in his tent were part of his business property, handy when some mining manager, who may want work done, comes along—or perhaps brought in by mounted messenger for Miss Savine's special benefit. Thurston lives on pork and potatoes, and eats them with his men. The fellow you pitied was a lazy tramp. It mayn't greatly matter to you or me, but Thurston will do great things some day."
"It is perhaps possible," assented Helen. "The men who are hard and cruel are usually successful. You have rather a weakness, father, for growing enthusiastic over what you call a live assistant. You have sometimes been mistaken, remember."
CHAPTER XI
AN INSPIRATION
More than twelve months had passed since Thurston's first visit to High Maples, when he stood one morning gazing abstractedly down a misty valley. Below him a small army of men toiled upon the huge earth embankments, which, half-hidden by thin haze, divided the river from the broad swamps behind it. But Geoffrey scarcely saw the men. He was looking back upon the events of the past year, and was oblivious to the present. He had made rapid progress in his profession and had won the esteem of Julius Savine; but he felt uncertain as to how far he had succeeded in placating Miss Savine. On some of his brief visits to High Maples, Helen had treated him with a kindliness which sent him away exultant. At other times, however, she appeared to avoid his company. Presently dismissing the recollection of the girl with a sigh, Geoffrey glanced at the strip of paper in his hand. It was a telegraphic message from Savine, and ran:
"Want you and all the ideas you can bring along at the chalet to-morrow. Expect deputation and interesting evening."
Savine had undertaken the drainage of the wide valley, which the rising waters periodically turned into a morass, and had sublet to Geoffrey a part of the work. Each of the neighboring ranchers who would benefit by the undertaking had promised a pro-rata payment, and the Crown authorities had conditionally granted to Savine a percentage of all the unoccupied land he could reclaim. Previous operations had not, however, proved successful, for the snow-fed river breached the dykes, and the leaders of a syndicate with an opposition scheme were not only sowing distrust among Savine's supporters, but striving to stir up political controversy over the concession.
Geoffrey did not agree with the contractor on several important points, but deferred to the older man's judgment. He had, however, already made his mark, and could have obtained profitable commissions from both mining companies and the smaller municipalities, had he desired them.
While Geoffrey was meditating, the mists began to melt before a warm breeze from the Pacific. Sliding in filmy wisps athwart the climbing pines, they rolled clear of the river, leaving bare two huge parallel mounds, between which the turbid waters ran. Geoffrey, surveying the waste of tall marsh grasses stretching back to the forest, knew that a rich reward awaited the man who could reclaim the swamp. He was reminded of his first venture, which was insignificant compared to this greater one, and as suddenly as the mists had melted, the uncertainty in his own mind concerning Savine's plan vanished too, and he saw that the contractor was wrong. What he had done for Bransome on a minute scale must be done here on a gigantic one. A bold man, backed with capital, might blast a pathway for the waters through the converging rocks of the cañon, and, without the need of costly dykes, both swamp and the wide blue lake at the end of the valley would be left dry land. He stood rigidly still for ten minutes while his heart beat fast. Then he strode hurriedly towards the gap in the ranges. There was much to do before he could obey Savine's summons.