A flat-roofed dugout, fronted with stone, was built into the base of a boulder-piled hill; the door was open.

Midnight perked his black head jauntily and slanted an ear.
High overhead, a thicket of hackberry and arrow-weed overhung the little valley.

From this green tangle a pipe line on stilts broke away and straddled down a headlong hill.

Frost was unknown; the pipe was supported by forked posts of height assorted to need, an expedient easier than ditching that iron hillside.

The water discharged into a fenced and foursquare earthen reservoir; below it was a small corral of cedar stakes; through the open gate, as he rode by, Pete saw a long watering-trough with a float valve.