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The time was to come sooner than either Taylor or Whitney expected. The Chief Engineer had been so busy familiarizing himself with all the details of the outside work that he had spent little time in the office and so had not often seen Bob. Not an activity, from the operation of the railway branch to the pouring of a new batch of concrete on the dam itself, had escaped his inspection. He wanted to know all the foremen of the different gangs, to size them up, and to gain their personal loyalty. The long experience he had had in bossing men, taught him that being human and approachable did not impair discipline. Besides, in times of emergency, the men could be more counted on. They pulled it into the water and watched with bated breath. It leaked badly and Jerry was disgusted. Bob, however, knowing more about boats than his companion, realized that the long time the boat had been out of water had caused the strips to contract and in all probability a few hours’ soaking would make them tight. Bob had insisted on putting the boat into the water before paying for it and as the water came in more slowly after a few minutes, he was satisfied. They paid the man and he went off after wishing them a rather pessimistic farewell. In the tiny bedroom in town Johnny Blossom laid his brown head on the pillow. “Thank you, dear God, thank you, thank you,” he murmured, and said no more, for he was overpowered by sleep. “About twelve years ago,” he said when his pipe was well lighted, “after a great deal of agitation over it, Congress passed a bill which created the thing we call the Reclamation Service. Its object was to increase the number of farms and to increase the total area of productive land. As you no doubt know, almost all the desert land in the United States would be extremely productive provided it could get a sufficient supply of one thing.”.