The Concrete Truck

Such wealth as the country enjoyed was largely derived from the fertile
soil, but the district about Santa Brigida was less productive than the
rest and had been long neglected. There was rain enough all round, but
much of the moisture condensed on the opposite side of the range and left
the slopes behind the town comparatively arid. To remedy this an
irrigation scheme was being carried out by American capitalists, and the
narrow-gage railroad formed part of the undertaking.

A man dressed in rather baggy, gray clothes and a big, soft hat sat in
the shadow of the rock. His thin face had been recently browned by the
sun, for the paler color where his hat shaded it showed that he was used
to a northern climate. Though his pose was relaxed and he had a cigar in
his mouth, there was a hint of energy about him and he was following the
curves of the railroad with keenly observant eyes. A girl in white dress
of fashionable cut sat near him, holding a green-lined sunshade, for
although they were in the shadow the light was strong. The likeness
between them indicated they were father and daughter.

"I expect you're feeling it pretty hot," Fuller remarked.

"It is not oppressive and I rather like the brightness," the girl
replied. "Besides, it's cool enough about the tent after the sun goes
behind the range. Of course, you are used to the climate."

"I was, but that was twenty-four years ago and before you were born. Got
my first lift with the ten thousand dollars I made in the next state down
this coast, besides the ague and shivers that have never quite left me.
However, it's pretty healthy up here, and I guess it ought to suit Jake
all right."