sisterly
directness. "I'm quite able to look after my own affairs. Mr. Farwell
is sorry. You be white enough to let it go that way."

"It's up to you, if you want it," Sandy replied. "If you can stand for
a thing like that once I can. But not twice."

"There won't be any twice. Shall we go to the house, Mr. Farwell?"

Farwell, amazed, fell into step with her. He had expected to be
overwhelmed with reproaches, to face a storm of feminine anger. Still,
he could not think that she was palliating his offence; and he was
quite aware that she had saved his life. Young McCrae, in offended
dignity, stalked in front.

"I want you to know," said Farwell, "that I'm utterly ashamed of
myself. To prove it I'm going to do the best I can. I'm going to wire
in my resignation, and I'm going away."

"Don't."

"What?" he exclaimed incredulously.

"Don't. You are sorry, and that's the main thing. We won't mention it
again. And neither will Sandy. But for a while you must not come here."

"I'll do anything," he said. "I think you are the best girl on earth."

Sheila did not reply; but she did not reprove him.

Mrs. McCrae, looking somewhat anxious, met them at the house.

"I heard a shot," she said. "Was it you, Sandy?"

"Yes," her son replied.

"What did you shoot at?"

The young man glanced at Farwell from the corner of his eye.

"A skunk," he replied. "I missed him."

Sheila bit her lip angrily. Farwell took his medicine in silence.

CHAPTER XXI

A week sufficed to put the ranchers' ditches and dams in condition to
take care of water; but at the end of that time there was little water
to take care of. It was being diverted into the company's ditch system.
Their ditches were running full, emptying upon lands on which scarcely
a pretence of cultivation was being made, while the actual farmers,
just when they needed it most, had barely sufficient water for their
domestic purposes, for stock, and for their small gardens. There was
none for the main crops in the fields.

Naturally the crops suffered, the grain most of all. A series of hot,
dry winds came. With water they would have done little or no damage;
without it the leaves curled, shrivelled, and turned pale, starving for
lack of moisture. And the peculiarly galling feature of it was that the
water which would have meant so much was practically running to waste.

In spite of these troubles Casey managed to devote time to his guests.
His projected excursi