“It must be a great satisfaction to a man to know that his brain and his hands are helping this dream of a city to become a reality,” Miss Breen remarked, after a pause. “Yes,” said Nash. “We forget it is work. Wasn’t it Kipling who said the highest pleasure that could come to a man was in the realization of a task well done?” “‘Each for the joy of the working,’” the girl quoted softly. “I think that’s the verse.” For a little time they were silent, wrapped in their own thoughts. The girl was idly fingering her pony’s mane; Nash was watching the white plumes of steam that arose from the big dredges, far in the distance. Then he swept his eyes to an opposite part of the valley. “Over there,” he said quietly, but with a touch of pride, “I’m starting a ‘coyote.’” The girl looked to where his finger pointed. She could barely make out a black hole a few yards below the summit of a hill. “What’s that?” she asked. “A coyote is the name we use for that little tunnel. You can barely make out the mouth of it from here. We’ve got to level off the top of that hill. To accomplish it, we send in a drift; then, at the end of it, we hollow out a big chamber. This is filled with dynamite--a half a hundred boxes probably. Wires are laid from it across the valley and to the top of another hill. At the proper time, an electric battery is attached to the wires, a button is pressed--and bang! The top of the hill goes up in the air.” “Oh!” she exclaimed, gripping her hands. “It must be a wonderful sight. May I watch it?” “It won’t be ready for another week yet,” he answered. “But when we touch off the battery you’ll see the prettiest exhibition of fireworks this side of Manhattan Beach.” In a little while they rode down the slope once more and along the busy line of operations. He explained everything to her, in the simplest terms; she appeared deeply interested, and asked a hundred questions, some of which puzzled Nash, not because of their difficulty, but rather because they were so unexpected. It seemed strange to him that a girl like Miss Breen, apparently in this part of the country for health and recreation, should manifest such a keen desire for technical knowledge. She betrayed immediate interest in the humanlike electric shovels, and at the grinding, growling, dust-hidden cement mixers, and at the spiderlike derricks that picked up tons of steel with the ease of a man lifting a sheet of paper. Finally he took her to where the first siphon was being erected.