"When gentlemen of a dark and sinister cast of mind deliberately set
out to frustrate one's legitimate efforts under a misapprehension as
to the course to be pursued, the proper diplomacy in such a case is to
foster the delusion circulating in their craniums as long as possible
and thus divert their attention from the real purpose. Don't you agree
with me, David?" Lee Bryant gravely inquired of his young companion,
as they were about to set forth next morning.

"Yes, sir," Dave affirmed, to whom the statement was so much Greek.

"Then since the vote is unanimous, we'll proceed to run a line along
the mountain side where it will collide with these new homesteads."

The engineer shouldered tripod and rod, whistled Mike to heel, and
with Dave started forward. Half way to Bartolo they perceived three
men busy on the hillside, so Bryant swung up to a point a quarter of a
mile off and began surveying. When he approached the workmen, Mexicans
naturally, he saw that they were engaged in setting fence posts, of
which a row was already in line part way up the hill.

The men dropped their tools and confronted him as he drew near.

"This is my land; you keep away," one exclaimed, with waving arms,
while the other backed him up in a show of force.

"How can I build a canal here if you won't let me go through?" Bryant
demanded.

"No go through, no canal on my claim!"