The land over which Sanderson had been riding all morning, though, was not so fertile; it needed the water that the stream splashing out of the gorge could give it, with proper human manipulation.
All morning Sanderson's thoughts had dwelt upon the serious lack of water in the basin.

Now his thoughts grew definitely troubled.
"There's goin' to be hell here--if this thing ain't handled right.

The Double A has got lots of water.

The other fellows will be wantin' it.
They've got to have it." Sanderson finished his inspection of the place.

Then he spoke to Streak, and the big brown horse descended the slope of the hill, struck the level, and cantered slowly toward the ranch buildings near the river.
Sanderson urged the brown horse toward the largest building of the group, and as he rode he straightened in the saddle, rearranged his neckerchief and brushed some of the dust from his clothing--for at this minute his thoughts went to the girl--whom he now knew he had come to see.
Sanderson no longer tried to delude himself.