A Lost Son

Time passed. The population of Forlorn River grew apace. Belding, who
had once been the head of the community, found himself a person of
little consequence. Even had he desired it he would not have had any
voice in the selection of postmaster, sheriff, and a few other
officials. The Chases divided their labors between Forlorn River and
their Mexican gold mine, which had been restored to them. The desert
trips between these two places were taken in automobiles. A month's
time made the motor cars almost as familiar a sight in Forlorn River as
they had been in Casita before the revolution.

Belding was not so busy as he had been formerly. As he lost ambition
he began to find less work to do. His wrath at the usurping Chases
increased as he slowly realized his powerlessness to cope with such
men. They were promoters, men of big interests and wide influence in
the Southwest. The more they did for Forlorn River the less reason
there seemed to be for his own grievance. He had to admit that it was
personal; that he and Gale and the rangers would never have been able
to develop the resources of the valley as these men were doing it.

All day long he heard the heavy booming blasts and the rumble of
avalanches up in the gorge. Chase's men were dynamiting the cliffs in
the narrow box canyon. They were making the dam just as Gale had
planned to make it. When this work of blasting was over Belding
experienced a relief. He would not now be continually reminded of his
and Gale's loss. Resignation finally came to him. But he could not
reconcile himself to misfortune for Gale.