"Not you, young woman," returned Charley, dryly. She still seemed indifferent to Dick but there was no mistaking her warm enthusiasm over Elsa as a sister. "I'm going to cut the first five acres to-morrow," said Dick. "That will solve the most pressing problems. The second field is dead. I'm going to plow it under. But I should worry. That's the best well in a radius of a hundred miles." "Well, I'll assemble my engine." Roger tamped down the tobacco in his pipe. "The Lord send that it goes together right." "Amen to that," said Charley, while the others nodded. Another two weeks passed in unremitting industry, but by the second Saturday night, Roger with a sigh of unutterable satisfaction announced himself ready for a test of the plant on Monday. It was mid-September now, and it seemed as if the heat were a little less intense. The nights, at any rate, were not so parching. In spite of the sadness that would not lift, the little community was experiencing some of the contentment that comes from hard work and sympathetic companionship. Roger was finding that the regular, well cooked meals and the home life of the adobe was making a great difference in his mental as well as his physical condition. In spite of the nerve strain of the past months, he was beginning to feel that life never had been so much worth while as now. On the Sunday afternoon before the test of the rebuilt plant, Ernest, driven by Hackett, jogged up to the corral. After the noisy and excited greetings and after Ernest's delight over the moving of the plant had been expressed, Ernest slapped Roger on the back. They all were talking at once, on the adobe porch. "Here, put your eye on that, you emaciated desert blister!" Ernest pulled a bill case carefully from his inner breast pocket and carefully extracted a check which he handed to Roger. It was for five thousand dollars. Roger stared at it stupidly. "Browning! Who on earth is he?" he ejaculated. "Smithsonian! I had the check made out to me. It was simpler. But I'm going to make it payable to you, right now." He sat down at the table, pulled out his fountain pen and, signing the check, handed it over to Roger. The room was silent for a moment then, "Ernest," faltered Roger, his thin tanned face working. "I can't tell you--why old man, if I'd had a brother he couldn't have done for me what you have done. It's wonderful! How did you do it, Ern?" Ernest beamed. "There's more where that came from. They're crazy about your whole scheme." Roger stood staring at his friend, lost in admiration. "You are a genius, Ernest! Your talents as a salesman are lost on a college professor." "Don't you think it! When I'm made President of the University, it will be because of my talents as a salesman." Everybody laughed. "Ernest, do tell us how you did it," urged Elsa. "Wait a minute!" cried Roger. "What shall I do with the check?" holding it as if it were alive and dangerous to the touch.