ts accustomed place over the kitchen fireplace, and, as
a last precaution, I took it down, and, after ascertaining that it was
properly loaded, put it near the head of the bed, within reach of my
hand. To be expert with firearms is almost a matter of course for
girls on Western ranches, and I was an unusually good marksman. As it
would, to my fancy, but intensify the emptiness and loneliness of the
house if I were to light a lamp, I decided to go straight to bed
without a light, and, if possible, forget my troubles in sleep. But I
had hardly reached this sensible conclusion when I became convinced
that I was thirsty. It is not in the least probable that I should have
even thought of needing a drink if it had not suddenly occurred to me
that there was no water in the house. I had used it all, and had
neglected to fill the pail again. There is no surer provocative of
thirst than the knowledge that there is no water to be had, and, as I
thought the matter over, my lips grew dry and my throat parched. It
was unendurable. In desperation I slipped on the shoes that I had just
taken off, and, taking the empty pail from the kitchen sink, unlocked
the door and made a hurried trip to the spring, a few rods west of the
house.

Returning with a brimming pailful, and disdaining to acknowledge, even
to myself, that my knees were shaking, I set the pail on a chair by
the bed-room window. I was determined to have water close at hand, in
case my thirst became torturing during the night. The cat was mewing
plaintively on the kitchen doorstep. I re-opened the door and let her
in, then re-locked the door and, disrobing, crept quickly into bed.
Curled down snugly under the blankets I was almost dozing when a
sudden recollection caused me to laugh softly to myself, there in the
darkness. In spite of my terrible thirst I had entirely forgotten to
take a drink after the water was at hand. "I'll get up after a while
if I find that I can't get along without it," I told myself, sleepily,
and with the sense of amusement still upon me, I was far away into
dreamland.

I suppose that very few people have escaped the unpleasant, breathless
sensation of awakening suddenly and completely under the spell of some
unknown challenge, a warning of some impending danger passed by the
alert mind to the slumbering senses of the body. I had slept far into
the night when I awoke, seemingly without cause, to find myself
sitting upright in bed, listening intently