The next day they began work on the well. The ultimate success of the plant rested on the premise that not too far below the surface of the valley there was water. Dick was pessimistic on the subject. He came down one evening to view progress when, after three days of toil, the boys had dug to the depth of about ten feet. The three men lighted their pipes and squatted in the sand by the well hole.
"I don't see why you don't establish your plant up in the range and use your power for mining," said Dick. "You'll never strike water here."
"Unless we can develop irrigation plants, the idea would be just a toy here," replied Roger. "There's bound to be water here, if we go deep enough. You tell me the lower levels of the mines up in the ranges on both sides are wet."
"Yes, they are," agreed Dick. "Why don't you fellows get an Indian to help you on this kind of work?"
"Where would we get one?" asked Ernest doubtfully.
"Oh, one is liable to mooch along the desert any time."
"Are they good workmen?" Roger's voice was absentminded as he scowled at the well.
"Some of them are wonders, but they are no good, unless you get a bunch of them under a chief. Then they're O. K."
Roger groaned. Ernest laughed. "Remember, Rog," he said, "what Austin told us about the unexpected problems in the building of a desert plant."
"You'll get plenty of those," agreed Dick. "Well, I'll be going back. If I see an Indian, I'll send him to you. In the meantime, remember that I'm your first purchaser of water, though my well's a regular gusher and will take care of more than the twenty-five acres I can get in this winter."