There
were acres and acres of potatoes in rows of endless and varying
succession; there were miles of wild oats and barley, which overtopped
them as they drove in narrow lanes of dry and dusty monotony; there were
orchards of pears, apricots, peaches, and nectarines, and vineyards of
grapes, so comparatively dwarfed in height that they scarcely reached
to the level of their eyes, yet laden and breaking beneath the weight of
their ludicrously disproportionate fruit. What seemed to be a vast green
plateau covered with tiny patches, that headed the northern edge of
the prospect, was an enormous bed of strawberry plants. But everywhere,
crossing the track, bounding the fields, orchards, and vineyards,
intersecting the paths of the whole domain, were narrow irrigating ducts
and channels of running water.
"Those," said the major, poetically, "are the veins and arteries of
the ranch. Come with me now, and I'll show you its pulsating heart."
Descending from the wagon into pedestrian prose again, he led Rose a
hundred yards further to a shed that covered a wonderful artesian well.
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