“Still they were official.  I’m simply pointing out to you, Mr. Menocal, why it will be unwise for you to endeavour to have this water appropriation cancelled.  You sold it to Stevenson as a live right—­the deed proves that; and now that I have the property I shall make it such in fact.  You’ve been using the water for other land, which possibly will suffer afterward, but that doesn’t affect the case in the least.  That water is a valuable property; when it’s delivered on my ranch, the land will be worth fifty dollars an acre.  You may have calculated that no one who got hold of the Perro Creek ranch ever would or could use the water, but in that you were in error:  I can and will use it, and you must understand that fact.”

Menocal fell into consideration.  He folded his hands across his stomach and remained thus, pondering, occasionally lifting his lids for a scrutiny of Bryant’s face.

“I’ll give you ten thousand cash for the place as it stands and hand you my check now,” he said, at length.

“Not to-day, thank you,” the engineer replied.

“What is your price?”

“The ranch isn’t for sale.  It’ll be worth a quarter of a million when it’s watered.  No, it’s not on the market at present.”

A deep sigh issued from the banker’s lips; he blinked slowly several times before speaking, with a resigned countenance.

“I see you’ve some capitalists behind you,” said he, “for it will take money to build a dam and a canal.  If they saw a reasonable profit without the trouble of construction, no doubt they would be willing to sell.”

“Put your mind at rest, Mr. Menocal; you have only me to deal with; there are no capitalists running this show yet.  But the water system will be built, never fear.”

Menocal’s eyebrows went up.  “Ah, so?” he asked, softly.

Then his face smoothed itself out; and Bryant realized that he had been led into a betrayal of importance.

“You would do well to name a price, Mr. Bryant.”

“No; I propose to develop the ranch,” the engineer answered, curtly.  “Is the release made out?  If it is, I’ll be on my way.”

“It’s too bad you refuse, too bad,” Menocal said, with a lugubrious shake of his head.

He called Isidro.  The clerk placed a card before Bryant for his signature and gave him a check book.  Then he laid the mortgage release in front of Menocal, who signed and passed it to the engineer.

“You’ll find it correct,” the Mexican stated.  “Isidro is a notary and has filled out the acknowledgment.”

Nevertheless, the visitor took care to read the paper and compare it with his deed before he rose.

“Well, that ends my business for the afternoon,” said he, “and I’ll take no more of your time.  You understand where I stand, Mr. Menocal.”

The latter gave a number of slow nods saying, “I understand, I understand.  Good day, Mr. Bryant.  And remember that you have an account with us and that the bank will be pleased to render you any service possible.”