It was Fogg who planned and Fogg who executed. This was new business to him, but no one would have guessed it. Over his oily, scheming face hovered perpetual sunshine. His manner and his arguments subdued even intractable men. It was said of him that he could get blood out of a grindstone. What he said of himself was, “Whenever I see that the props are kicked out from under me, I plan to have some kind of a good cushion to land on.” The cushion in this case was the exploitation of the inevitable, the irrigation of Paradise Valley, for the benefit of the exploiters. Many new settlers were drawn in by attractively-worded advertisements. Then one of the things Justin had feared came to pass. Fogg sold more water than he could deliver, trouble arose, and this trouble descended, in great measure, on the head of the ditch rider. In spite of all he could do to distribute the water fairly complaints and protests were made. Fogg had planned for this condition, and he was iron. He claimed that an unusually dry year had worked against the success of the company; and as there was a clause in the water notes covering such a failure to supply water, the farmers were forced, sometimes under the sheriff’s hammer, to pay the notes they had given. Buying sometimes from the sheriff, and sometimes through second parties from the farmers themselves, for numbers of them, in disgust, were willing to sell and leave the country, before the end of the first year Fogg and Davison had greatly increased their land holdings, by “perfectly legitimate” methods. CHAPTER XIV THE DOWNWARD WAY Making the rounds of the house one night before retiring, Lucy came upon Ben Davison rummaging through the desk in his father’s room. The drawers of the desk had been pulled out, the small safe had been opened, and papers littered the chairs and floor. Surprised thus, Ben faced her with an angry oath. She saw that he had been drinking. Instead of putting color into his pale face, intoxication always made it unnaturally white and set a glassy stare in his eyes. “What are you doing here, Ben?” she demanded. “I’m looking for money,” he declared surlily. “Is it any of your business?” “I think it is, when you begin to look for it in this way. Uncle Philip doesn’t know you’re up here.” “I’m going to have money, that’s what!” he snarled. “Let him give me the money I need, instead of driving me to tricks like this.” “He gave you money only the other day; I saw him.” “How much? A hundred dollars! There’s money in this room, or there was, and I know it; and I’m going to have it. I’m going to have as much as I want, too, when I get my hands on it.” “I shall have to report you, Ben!” He caught her fiercely by the shoulders, with a clutch that made her wince and cry out in pain. “You have hurt me, Ben!” she sobbed. “I’ll kill you, if you come meddling with my affairs!”