Nash slept little the remainder of the night, for the smashing of the water main and the total destruction of the newly built conduit worried him. Things had been running so smoothly for the past few months that this interruption came as a shock. He did not like to suspect any of his own men of the outrage, yet it seemed impossible that an outsider could elude the watchmen and perpetrate such an act.
Early the following morning he called together all his subforemen, warning them not to allow a stranger within the camp limits unless he showed the proper credentials.
“Without water,” he told them, “our construction work cannot go on. We must guard it as we would our lives. Use as many watchmen at night as you think best—better too many than not enough. Now, let’s see if we can’t nip this thing in the bud. I’m willing to pay a substantial reward for the capture of these culprits.”
The men responded eagerly, and Nash felt confident that they would do all in their power to prevent another such outrage.
Late that same afternoon, while at work in his office, Nash was interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Come in!” he shouted.
The door was opened, and the girl of the previous day’s adventure stood before him. She was dressed in a khaki riding habit, brown boots, and a wide-brimmed sombrero.
“Oh!” Nash said, smiling. “Pardon my shouting, won’t you? I thought it was one of the men. Come right in and sit down.”
She thanked him, drawing off her riding gloves, and sinking into the chair he had hurriedly placed for her. “You see, I’ve kept my promise. Your pony is outside. He’s a little beauty—sure-footed as a deer. And mine——”
“I found yours halfway to camp,” he answered. “It’s in the barn. I’ll give orders to have it brought around. Your saddle is here.” He pointed to the corner. “I thought it would be safer. Is it your own saddle?” he asked.