, and
there must be some limit to the amount the parched soil would yield.

The brothers found apt counsel in their guest. By the end of the second
week, the fever had run its course, and the sick man, Jack Sargent, was
up and observant of the situation. True to his calling, he felt for the
cattle, and knew the importance of water on the Beaver to the
passing drive.

"You must rest these beaver ponds," said Jack, in meeting the emergency.
"Every time these pools lower an inch, it gives the sun an advantage.
It's absorption that's swallowing up the ponds. You must deepen these
pools, which will keep the water cooler. Rest these ponds a few days, or
only water late at night. You have water for weeks yet, but don't let
the sun rob you. These ponds are living springs compared to some of the
water we used south of Red River. Meet the herds on the divide, and
pilot the early ones to the tanks below, and the late ones in here.
Shifting in your saddle rests a horse, and a little shifting will save
your water."

The advice was acted on. While convalescent, Sargent was installed as
host on the Beaver, and the brothers took to their saddles. The majority
of the herds were met on the Prairie Dog, and after a consultation with
the foremen their cattle were started so as to reach the tanks by day or
the ranch at evening. The month rounded out with the arrival of eighteen
herds, only six of which touched at headquarters, and the fourth week
saw a distinct gain in the water supply at the beaver dams. The boys
barely touched at home, to change horses, living with the trail wagons,
piloting in herds, rich in the reward of relieving the wayfaring, and
content with the crumbs that fell to their range.

The drouth of 1886 left a gruesome record in the pastoral history of the
West. The southern end of the Texas and Montana cattle trail was marked
by the bones of forty thousand cattle that fell, due to the want of
water, during the months of travail on that long march. Some of this
loss was due to man's inhumanity to the cattle of the fields, in
withholding water, but no such charge rested on the owners of the little
ranch on the Beaver.

A short month witnessed the beginning of the end of the year's drive.
Only such herds as were compelled to, and those that had strength in
reserve, dared the plain between the Arkansas and Platte Rivers. The
fifth week only six herds arrived, all of which touched at the ranch;
half of them had been pur