“I believe it,” said Dave.
On all sides were evidences to show that the workers, full of the same enthusiasm that had inspired the early pioneers, would make the Ranger’s prediction come true. Land was being cleared, artesian wells bored, irrigation ditches dug and houses built.
“Yes, sir,” said a man with whom they stopped to talk, “I reckon that within another year thousands of acres will be under cultivation. Nowadays when a town is started it’s started right. Town planning commissions look ahead. They plan so that future generations may be left a heritage which should inspire them to still greater efforts.”
“I don’t believe Sylvester will ever have any narrow, twisting streets like those we see in some of the border towns,” said Sam.
“No, sir, it certainly won’t.”
“This is a good illustration of the way in which the old-time ranchman is being driven farther and farther away,” remarked Dave. “The railroads pushing their way into his territory; the consequent springing up of towns along the route, and the army of home-seekers taking over the tillable lands have made wonderful changes within recent years.”
“Quite right, son,” agreed the man. “But it means only that two things are being done now instead of one.”
“And the ranchers and the live-stock companies are now conducting their business on more scientific principles,” explained Sergeant Howell. “Efficiency and economy are words much in use to-day. Pasture lands are well taken care of and cattle and sheep shipped to market in the best possible condition.”
“Sure, it’s all fine and dandy,” grinned Jim Roland. “But if the time ever comes when they git scientific Rangers I’ll quit the force.”
“I say, Sergeant,” a man mounted on a little sorrel pony came jogging up. “Ketched any o’ them there rustlers yit?”