Four days in camp had made old-timers out of the company gathered under the awning before their tent, waiting for the meal which Mrs. Reed and her assistants were even then spreading on the trestle-built table. There had been a shower that afternoon, one of those gusty, blustery, desert demonstrations which had wrenched the tents and torn hundreds of them from their slack anchoring in the loose soil. After the storm, with its splash of big drops and charge of blinding dust, a cool serenity had fallen over the land. The milk had been washed out of the distances, and in the far southwest snowy peaks gleamed solemnly in the setting sun, the barrier on the uttermost edge of the desert leagues which so many thousand men and women were hungry to share. "Yes, it's a desperate gamble for all of us," Dr. Slavens admitted. "I don't see any more show of anybody in this party drawing a low number than I see hope for a man who stands up to one of the swindles in the gambling-tents over there." "Still," argued Milo Strong, the Iowa teacher, "we've got just the same chance as anybody out of the forty thousand. I don't suppose there's any question that the drawing will be fair?" "It will be under the personal management of the United States Land Commissioner at Meander," said Horace Bentley. "How do they work it?" asked June, perking up her head in quick interest from her task of hammering together the seams of a leaky new tin cup. She had it over a projecting end of one of the trestles, and was going about it like a mechanic. "Where did you learn that trick?" inquired the toolmaker, a look in his eyes which was pretty close kin to amazement. "Huh!" said June, hammering away. "What do you suppose a college education's good for, anyway? But how do they manage the drawing?" she pressed. "Did they teach you the game of policy at Molly Bawn?" the lawyer asked. "The idea!" sniffed Mrs. Reed. Miss Horton smiled into her handkerchief, and June shook her head in vigorous denial. "I don't even know what it is," said she. "Is it some kind of insurance?" "It beats insurance for the man that runs the game," said Strong, reminiscently. "All of the names of those who register will be taken to Meander when the registration closes," explained Horace. "There are half a dozen clerks in the little office here transcribing the names on to small cards, with the addresses and all necessary information for notifying a winner. On the day of the drawing the forty thousand-odd names will be put into a big hollow drum, fitted with a crank. They'll whirl it, and then a blindfolded child will put his hand into the drum and draw out Number One. Another child will then draw Number Two, and so on until eight thousand names have come out of the wheel. As there are only eight thousand parcels of land, that will end the lottery. What do you think of your chance by now, Miss Horton?"