uice, for Blackwater was as hot as
Jail Canyon. He was riding a horse now, and, in addition to Old Walker,
he had a third mule, heavily packed; and he was headed for the hills to
hide still more food and water against the chase that was sure to come.
Sooner or later they would follow on his trail, those petty, hateful
souls who now sat in the barrooms and gasped like fish for breath; but
they were waiting, forsooth, for the weather to cool down and the
cloudbursts to finish their destruction. And that was the very reason
why they would never find his mine--they were afraid to take his
chances.

Mrs. Campbell and Wilhelmina were out on the back porch, which had been
sprinkled until it was almost cool; and when Wunpost had unpacked and
put his mules in the corral he came up the hill and joined them.
Wilhelmina had returned to her proper sphere, being clothed in the
filmiest of gowns; and poor Mrs. Campbell, who was nearly prostrated by
the heat, allowed her to entertain the company. They sat in the dense
shade of the umbrella trees and creepers, within easy reach of a
dripping olla; and after taking a huge drink, which started the sweat
again, Wunpost sank down on the cool dirt floor.

"It ain't so hot here!" he began encouragingly; "you ought to be down in
Blackwater. Say, the wind off that Sink would make your hair curl. I
scared a lizard out of the shade and he hadn't run ten feet till he
disappeared in a puff of smoke. His pardner turned over and started to
lick his toes----"

"Yes, it does look like rain," observed Billy with a twinkle. "How long
since _you_ started to herd lizards?"

"Who--me?" inquired Wunpost. "W'y, I'm telling you the truth. But say,
it does look like rain. If they'd only spread it out, instead of dumping
it all in one place, it'd suit me better, personally. There was a
cloudburst last week hit into the canyon above me and I just made my
getaway in time, and where that water landed you'd think a hydraulic
sluice had been washing down the hill for a year. It all struck in one
place and gouged clean down to bedrock, and when she came by me there
was so much brush pushed ahead that it looked like a big, moving dam.
Where's your father--up getting out ore?"

"Yes, he's up at the mine," spoke up Mrs. Campbell, "although I've
begged him not to work so hard. The heat is almost killing him, but he's
so thankful to have his road done that he won't delay a minute. He's
used up all his sacks, but he's