r fields and drink up all
our water. The herds were so big."

"Suppose the cattle would drink the water," replied Forrest, "the owner
would pay for it, which would be better than letting it go to waste. One
day's hot winds would absorb more water than the biggest herd of cattle
could drink. This ain't no farming country."

"That's so," admitted Dell; "we only had one mess of peas this season,
and our potatoes aren't bigger than marbles. Now, let me rub your knee,
there where the bullet skipped, between the bandages."

The rubbing over, Forrest pressed home the idea of abandoning farming
for cattle ranching. "What your father ought to have done," said he,
"was to have made friends with the Texas drovers; given them the water,
with or without price, and bought any cripples or sore-footed cattle.
Nearly every herd abandons more or less cattle on these long drives, and
he could have bought them for a song and sung it himself. The buffalo
grass on the divides and among these sand hills is the finest winter
grazing in the country. This water that you are wasting would have
yearly earned you one hundred head of cripples. A month's rest on this
creek and they would kick up their heels and play like calves. After
one winter on this range, they would get as fat as plover. Your father
missed his chance by not making friends with the Texas trail men."

"Do you think so?" earnestly said Dell.

"I know it," emphatically asserted the wounded man. "Hereafter, you and
Joel want to be friendly with these drovers and their men. Cast your
bread upon the waters."

"Mother used to read that to us," frankly admitted Dell. There was a
marked silence, only broken by a clatter of hoofs, and the trail boss
cantered up to the tent.

"That wagon track," said he, dismounting, "is little more than a dim
trail. Sorry I didn't think about it sooner, but we ought to have built
a smudge fire where this road intersects the cattle trail. In case the
doctor doesn't reach there by noon, I sent orders to fly a flag at the
junction, and Joel to return home. But if the doctor doesn't reach there
until after darkness, he'll never see the flag, and couldn't follow the
trail if he did. We'll have to send Joel back."

"It's my turn," said Dell. "I know how to build a smudge fire; build it
in a circle, out of cattle chips, in the middle of the road."

"You're a willing boy," said Priest, handing the bridle reins to Dell,
"but we'll wait until Joel returns.