attracted by the
sight of water, came surging round the trough, savagely jostling one
another. The lad worked hard with the windlass, but he could not keep
them supplied, and they crowded on the low platform covering the well,
with heads stretched out eagerly toward the dripping bucket. After
being flung against the windlass by a thirsty beast, Edgar called to
his companion.

"They'll break through if you're not quick! It's my opinion they're
bent on getting down the well!"

George came to his assistance with his riding quirt, but when they were
supplying the last two or three unsatisfied animals, a man ran out of
the bluff.

"What in thunder are you doing with our water?" he cried.

"He looks angry," Edgar commented. "When that rancher fellow told us
about the well, he didn't mention the necessity of asking Mr. Baxter's
permission." Then he waved his hand to the stranger.

"Come here and have a talk!"

The man came on at a quicker run. His face was hot with indignation,
and on reaching them he broke into breathless and pointed
expostulations.

"When you're quite through, we'll assess the damages," George quietly
told him.

The farmer's anger began to dissipate.

"No," he said; "that would be taking a pretty mean pull on you; but
water's scarce, and you can't have any more."

"Well," requested George, "have you a paddock or corral you could let
me put this bunch of cattle into until the morning? I'm willing to pay
for the accommodation."

"I can't do it," replied the other. "I want all the fenced grass I've
got. Take them right along, and you'll strike a creek about six miles
ahead. Then you ought to make the river to-morrow night."

It was obvious that he desired to be rid of them; and as it was getting
cooler George resumed his journey. He found the creek early the next
morning, and as the day promised to be unusually hot he delayed only
until he had watered the stock. In an hour or two the sun was hidden
by banks of leaden cloud, but the temperature did not fall and there
was an oppressive heaviness in the air. The prairie had faded to a
sweep of lifeless gray, obscured above its verge. The men made
progress, however; and late in the afternoon a winding line of timber
that marked the river's course appeared ahead. Shortly afterward,
Edgar looked around.

"That's a curious streak of haze in the distance," he remarked.

"It's smoke," said George. "Grass fires are not uncommon in hot