dians can climb the hosses
out of thet hole an' find water an' grass enough."

"Mebbe," replied Van, doubtfully. "Sure them Piutes could if there's a
chance. But there ain't any grass."

"It won't take much grass travelin' by night."

"So lots of the boys say. But the Navajos they shook their heads. An'
Farlane an' Holley, why, they jest held up their hands."

"With them Indians Creech has a chance to get his hosses out," declared
Bostil. He was sure of his sincerity, but he was not certain that his
sincerity was not the birth of a strange, sudden hope. And then he was
able to meet the eyes of his daughter. That was his supreme test.

"Oh, Dad, why, why didn't you hurry Creech's horses over?" said Lucy,
with her tears falling.

Something tight within Bostil's breast seemed to ease and lessen. "Why
didn't I? ... Wal, Lucy, I reckon I wasn't in no hurry to oblige
Creech. I'm sorry now."

"It won't be so terrible if he doesn't lose the horses," murmured Lucy.

"Where's young Joel Creech?" asked Bostil.

"He stayed on this side last night," replied Van. "Fact is, Joel's the
one who first knew the flood was on. Some one said he said he slept in
the canyon last night. Anyway, he's ravin' crazy now. An' if he doesn't
do harm to some one or hisself I'll miss my guess."

"A-huh!" grunted Bostil. "Right you are."

"Dad, can't anything be done to help Creech now?" appealed Lucy, going
close to her father.

Bostil put his arm around her and felt immeasurably relieved to have
the golden head press close to his shoulder. "Child, we can't fly
acrost the river. Now don't you cry about Creech's hosses. They ain't
starved yet. It's hard luck. But mebbe it'll turn out so Creech'll lose
only the race. An', Lucy, it was a dead sure bet he'd have lost thet
anyway."

Bostil fondled his daughter a moment, the first time in many a day, and
then he turned to his rider at the door. "Van, how's the King?"

"Wild to run, Bostil, jest plumb wild. There won't be any hoss with the
ghost of a show to-morrow."

Lucy raised her drooping head. "Is THAT so, Van Sickle? ... Listen
here. If you and Sage King don't get more wild running to-morrow than
you ever had I'll never ride again!" With this retort Lucy left the
room.

Van stared at the door and then at Bostil. "What'd I say, Bostil?" he
asked, plaintively. "I'm always r'ilin' her."

"Cheer up, Van. You didn't say much. Lucy is fiery these days. She's
got a hoss somewhere an' she's